#she has other good ones and ones that tie into longer series

[vitos-ordination-song]

Le Guin must-read short stories:

The Matter of Seggri

Mountain Ways

The Shobies’ Story

Dancing to Ganam

Paradises Lost (more of a novella but you know)

Seasons of the Ansarac

Vaster Than Empires and More Slow

Solitude

The Stars Below

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part VIII / Part IX

(Completed) Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: PLEASE READ, we have reached the end of their journey and I am so sad/happy/excited about it. I don’t even know how to feel honestly. I just want to thank everyone who has commented, messaged or reblogged this story. Your kind words and funny little depressed memes have been really uplifting for me. I was actually considering just giving up on this blog when I posted the first chapter. I haven’t had much inspiration lately or interaction I feel like, and you all have helped reignite that spark within me. Summary: There’s something keeping you tied to Cooper Howard, an invisible string wrapped around you both. You’ve fought against it as long as you could but he’s not gonna let you fight for much longer.

It’s been a month and the bounty on her head gets bigger everyday. Normally the compound hires privately, they don’t like going through the agencies. He figures with Sylvie dead they’re struggling to find a new leader and they’re falling apart. Or they’re just desperate for her head on a stick. 

He sees her face everywhere, crudely drawn images of her varying in their accuracy. In some she has a hat like his on, in others her nose is the wrong shape, or her eyes are all wrong. No one seems to have a good grasp on who she is. Out of curiosity and a strange need to know she’s still alive, he’s asked around. 

There are different rumors as to where she’s hiding out. Some think she’s taken to hiding out in the caves near Filly. Anyone with half a brain knows that the area’s overrun by irradiated bears and other mutated freaks. 

There are those that say they’ve seen her wandering through the sands. Following that lead had led him nowhere. He doesn’t know where she is and it’s driving him insane. She’s like a constant itch in the back of his mind that he just can’t scratch. Days and nights are spent thinking about her and he hates it. 

He’s not sure what he’d do when he does find her. Whether he’d shoot her to repay the favor or just tie her up to keep her from leaving again. He’s conflicted on how he feels about her. He’s bothered that he feels anything towards her at all. And he knows that when she shot him, she was shooting to kill. 

She had no way of knowing that he would heal from that bullet. She’d watched him bleed out on the ground and left him for dead. He was impressed, as much as he wanted to be mad, he was almost proud in a way. 

Throughout their tumultuous lives and times together she’d always had to be guided by him. He’d shown her the ways of whatever world they were living in. She’d relied on him and he enjoyed it. The time had to come when eventually she wouldn’t need him anymore. 

It’s outside of Filly that he finds the most accurate poster of her so far. She looks like she did in their first movie together. A proper outlaw, wanted all across the Wastelands for her crimes against a bunch of sick fucks. If he could kill Sylvie again, he would. He’d kill all of them. 

Not that he’s condemning them because of what the compound’s doing. He’s dabbled in organ trade before, eaten people, he’s done a lot of fucked up shit. But he draws the line at trying to hurt her. He’s the only one who should be allowed to fuck with her.

He takes the poster down and whistles softly at the price under her name. It’s enough to keep him happy for a longtime. If he never wanted to take on another bounty he wouldn’t have to. Course, he was never in this for the money. A man’s gotta have something to entertain himself with at the end of the world. 

He wonders if she’s even still alive. Maybe a Deathclaw got her a day after she left him behind. He could have walked past her corpse and never even known it. He folds the poster up and slips it in his bag. He doesn’t know why he bothers keeping it. Possibly because it’s the closest thing to her that he’s got, but he doesn’t feel like lingering on that thought for long. 

He tugs his hat lower on his head and heads through the tunnel leading to Filly. He’s caused a lot of issues here over the years. Usually he kills most of the people who could identify him as an instigator, but he doesn’t feel like pushing his luck today. He needs more supplies and he knows Ma June won’t sell to him if he causes a fight beforehand. 

It’s louder than normal today, more people rushing around. They’re all congregating around something in the center of the marketplace. He turns to the left, heading up the stairs to try and get a better look at what’s got everyone so excited. 

“They found her!” A boy shouts, fidgeting in his spot next to him. He glances at him from under his hat and the boy pales before scurrying away from him. His lips turn up in a cruel grin and he finally gets a good look at what’s happening. 

She’s kneeling in the middle of the marketplace, two Knights on either side of her. He’s more surprised by the fact that she actually has picked up a hat in her time away from him. 

She seems to be playing into the outlaw routine more than he thought she would. 

You’re embarrassed, honestly, that you let these two idiots capture you. Them and their useless little squires. 

You’ve found odd jobs through the Brotherhood when they need assistance looking for relics of the old world. Though, you’re really not sure how much use a toaster oven can be to them, but they pay good money for it. 

Once your bounty was posted and they figured out who you were, though, that stopped being useful. You can’t even hunt bounties because the agencies would just grab you and turn you over to the compound.

They clearly didn’t give a shit about women, you don’t get why they’re making this whole Sylvie situation such a big deal. 

You had to bribe Ma June by buying some of her junk, but eventually she’d helped you find some work in Filly. The people here are stupid enough that they don’t recognize you when they see you. Most of them are high or drunk so the only thing you have to worry about is wandering hands and not stepping in the middle of their brawls. 

From the patrons of the bar you hear stories about yourself. How you slaughtered the entire compound, even the children, which is so far from the truth you can’t help but scoff. Or how you apparently slept with a ghoul and you're carrying his mutant baby. 

You don’t even know where they got that one from. 

They also seem to think you wander through the sands, shooting anyone who gets in your way. It’s a comfort that no one seems to have caught onto you yet. But it’s also disheartening to know that all that’s left of civilization is a bunch of psychopathic idiots. 

What happened to natural selection?

You know your stint in Filly is up when two Knights walk in, their squires struggling to carry their bags behind them. You pull your hat further over your head and duck behind the bar. You try to keep your back to them and let the old man, Marley, who runs the bar deal with them. 

His shaky voice is cautious as he greets them, “What are Knights doing so far out here?”

One of their distorted voices rings out through the, now quiet, bar. “We got bored. Wanted to shoot some shit.”

You roll your eyes and focus on cleaning the cup in front of you. You spit into it, not enough water to properly clean it, and scrub at it with a stained towel. Marley hums, clearly displeased with the answer. You can hear his tottering steps approaching you and wince, praying he’s not going to do what you think he is. 

He tugs on your shirt with a shaky hand and you slump forward in defeat. “Deal with these jackasses,” he mutters, taking drinks over to a different table. 

You pour the only alcohol the bar has into two cups and keep your head down as you approach. “Heard that a woman took over for Knight Damien.”

One of them scoffs and shakes his armored head, “What the fuck is this world coming to?” You don’t know how they’re planning on drinking their liquor with the helmets on but you’re not going to ask stupid questions. You drop the cups in front of them, but your hand slips and one of them tips over into a Knight’s lap. 

“I’ve got it, sire.” Their squire lunges forward and begins vigorously scrubbing their armor. Your face curls up in distaste and you’re about to walk away when a metal hand grips your wrist. 

“Holy shit, it’s her!” Oh, you’re so screwed. 

They’ve got a fucking leash on you, it’s humiliating. The scarred and dirt-covered faces of the citizens of Filly surround you. They’re all leering, shouting at you and begging the Knight’s to share in the bounty. But the Knight’s aren’t listening, they’re just congratulating each other. 

“What do you think they’ll give us?”

One of them shoves their squire and he goes toppling into his large bag, feet flailing in the air. “Hopefully better fucking squires. I��m getting sick of this one’s stupid face.” 

The squire kneels down and shouts in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, sire!” God, you really hate these people. You wished they would just shoot you. Having to sit here and listen to them talk was making your brain go numb. 

The Knight’s distorted laugh rings out through his helmet. The other one glances over at you, “What do you think she did? I’ve never seen the compound this pissed off.”

“I dunno. Hey!” You know he’s talking to you, that they want an answer, you really don’t care to give them one. “What’d you do?” They stare at you for a moment and then he sighs when you don’t respond. He shoves his squire towards you and the kid goes stumbling over his feet. “Make her talk.”

He nods rapidly, head bobbing up and down. “Of course, sire.” Your hands twitch to your side and you give him a wicked grin as he approaches. 

He’s debating going down there and trying to help her when the first shot goes off. He doesn’t even see it happen, he just watches as one of the squires drops to the ground. 

Those who don’t want to get caught in the crossfire are quick to move away from the area, hiding in their shops or shoving past him to get through the tunnel. He heads down the stairs, taking his time and trying to figure out where the shot came from. 

The second squire moves towards her and his head flies back, a hole between his eyes and his brains splattering across the ground. One Knight shoves the other one and points at their dead squire’s, “Did you not take her fucking gun?”

He’s been in those suits. He remembers how it felt, the power you get from being in them. How they make you feel like a big man. He also remembers how fucking slow they could be. She’s on her feet and running for cover before they can even start to grab her. 

She dives behind a stall and tugs a knife out of her boot, sawing at the ropes around her wrists. He can’t reach her before the fighting starts. Someone in the remaining crowd shouts, “Grab her! Get the bounty!” And all hell breaks loose. 

Someone runs at him and he shoots them before they can grab him. Shots start going off, the Knight’s mowing down anyone who tries to swoop in on their bounty. Everyone else is shooting blindly, just trying to get rid of the competition so they can claim her bounty as their own. 

He ducks under the hail fire and slides next to her as she’s reloading her gun. She glances over at him and frowns, “Didn’t I kill you?”

He hears a shout and watches as some half-feral woman charges at them. She shoots her dead and turns back to him. He gives her a wry smile, “You want to do this now, sweetheart?”

She peers over her cover and surveys the chaos going on around them. She sighs and glances back at him, “Why aren’t you dead?” 

He tugs one of his specially made bullets out of his bag and loads it into his gun. He lifts himself to his knees and aims at the weak spot on the Knight’s chest plate. They both watch as blood explodes out of the neck of the power armor, the Knight’s friend cussing as he watches him die. 

“Next time,” she turns to look at him, “aim for the head,” he instructs. She glares at him before making her way to Ma June’s shop. He follows, not willing to let her out of his sight again, and she ducks behind the barrels of supplies in front of the shop. 

“Clearly,” she winces as the Knight’s gun starts firing off again, “I’m not making it out of here on my own.” They dive to the side as bullets rip through the barrels they’re leaning against. They’re not gonna have cover for much longer.

He grins at her, “Sounds like you’re asking me for a favor, darling.”

The sounds of screams and bodies dropping is nearly deafening. A few feet away a bullet catches a man in the throat and he drops to the ground. They watch as he chokes on his blood and tries to claw his way to safety. Steps rapidly approach them and she turns to shoot a different man, his body dropping an inch away from them. 

He turns back to her and his lips turn down, “After you tried to kill me? You want my help,” he laughs at her and she glares. 

Before she can speak a voice rings out above them, “I got her!” He shoots at the woman on the upper level above them, half of her leg gets blown off and she tumbles over the railing, narrowly missing the pair. 

He turns back to her, “You’re asking a lot, darling.”

“You’ve fucking shot me, twice. I’m not asking you for anything.” Her lips turn down in a sneer and she looks at him like the very sight of him disgusts her. “I don't need your help. I don't need you.” She glances back over her shoulder, surveying the gore and the bullets flying around them. She checks her gun and he sees just how little ammo she has left. “I’ll handle this myself.” She snaps the chamber of her gun closed and moves to get up. He grabs her wrist and yanks her back down, ignoring the angry expression on her face. 

“Look, you might not want my help, but you need it, sweetheart. Just stay here.” 

You watch as Cooper runs off, his guns firing before he’s even fully standing. You only wait a second before you’re running into Ma June’s and out her back door. She shouts at you as you barrel through her shop, knocking over her displays and shelves, but you can’t waste any time getting the hell out of dodge. 

You’re surprised Cooper was stupid enough to think you would actually wait for him. The Knight’s had called for an air evac out of Filly and if you stay there any longer you’ll be back in the compound before you can blink. 

You’ve spent a month evading them, you’re not about to let yourself get caught because of Cooper. 

You can’t believe he’s not dead. It’s not like you’ve been losing sleep over killing him, but it’s been hard to cope with the fact that you killed the man that was once the love of your life. Seeing him again, though, you wished you had shot him in his smug face. 

You’d forgotten, in the time apart, just how condescending he could be. He seemed to think you needed him to survive. You didn’t. 

At best, he provided the comfort of company. Poorly. 

Despite how much he undervalued you, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You didn’t need him to save you. You would have figured your way out of there on your own, eventually. You’ve handled yourself a month in the Wastelands without him. You learned how to carve an existence for yourself out here and you did it without help. 

You race into the woods beyond Filly, putting as much distance between you and the sounds of fighting as quickly as you can. The trees around you begin to shake, the ground vibrating and a swirl of dirt and leaves rises into the air and whips you in the face. 

You look up and begin pushing yourself faster. One of the Brotherhood’s Vertibird’s is circling Filly. “This is not a hostile landing! Please remain calm!” You blame your distraction on the announcement. 

You would have heard him coming up behind you if you hadn’t been listening to whatever the Brotherhood was saying. Rope loops around your arms and you’re yanked backwards. Your head thumps painfully hard against the forest floor, rocks scraping you as you’re dragged across the ground. 

Cooper’s face appears over yours, a cruel smile on his lips. “Now, this seems awfully familiar.” He walks around you, boots straddling your waist and grabs you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back to your feet. “I thought I told you to stay put, sweetheart.”

You frown at him, shoving your leg up between his. He groans, doubling over while you shimmy out of the loose rope. “Honestly, after all the shit that’s happened you think I’m gonna listen to anything you say?” You step back from him, brushing the dirt off your clothes as best you can. 

You sigh in frustration when you realize that when the Knight’s had grabbed you, you’d lost your supplies. Cooper looks up at you and scoffs, “Missing something?” You eye his bag on the ground and start to go for it. He pulls the hammer of his gun back and you glance towards him. You’d forgotten what a quick draw he could be.

He’s fully recovered now, eyes narrowed in on you and gun pointed right at your chest. “See, a bullet to the chest might not kill me, but I reckon it’ll do a hell of a lot of damage to you. Why don’t you back up for me, sweetheart?”

You let go of his bag and slowly back away from him. He keeps his gun trained on you and stoops down, throwing his bag back over his shoulder. Your eyes dart to the hat on his head and your lips curl up when you spot the hole you’d put in it. 

Two hundred years and he’s kept that hat nearly pristine, you take no small amount of pride in being the one to ruin it. 

“The Brotherhood will be swarming these woods in a few minutes. They’re not gonna be too happy about one of their Knight’s being dead. Come with me, I can help you out.”

You scoff, “Like I’ll ever trust you again. You’ve shot me, sold me, and left me for dead, Cooper.”

He huffs, eyes narrowing and lips curled in a sardonic grin. You can tell he’s getting pissed off. “The choice is yours,” he tucks his gun back in his holster and turns on his heels. You watch in surprise as he stalks away from you. You had fully expected him to put up more of a fight, it almost hurts that he left so easily again. 

Then you hear the sounds of orders being shouted behind you. Metal creaking and stomping through the underbrush and you realize he hadn’t left but forced you between a rock and a hard place. You could follow him or let yourself get captured by the Brotherhood. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You risk a glance over your shoulder and spot a rapidly approaching party of squires. You run in the direction Cooper went and find him leaning casually against a tree, a satisfied look on his face when he spots you. “Don’t say a word,” you warn, shoving past him. 

He glances at her from across the fire and finds himself feeling almost at ease for the first time in a month. It’s been a while since he’s looked up to actually find her staring back at him. She might look like she wants to kill him, but she’s here. 

“You have to admit, we make a pretty good team, darling.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, “Yeah, Cooper, we’re so great at murdering people.” She looks over to the dead bodies of the raiders they’d stolen this camp from and shakes her head. “I forgot how much death you surround yourself with.”

“I surround myself with? Might I remind you, you fired the first shot, sweetheart.” Granted, he had shoved her out of her hiding spot and given her no choice about it. 

Her head shoots up and she glares at him, “You made me!” She opens her mouth and he grins. He enjoys provoking her like this. Even if the last time he had she’d shot him because of it, but it’s fun to rile her up. She always gets so pissed off, it entertains him to no end. 

To his disappointment, she closes her mouth and shakes her head, choosing not to engage with him. He sighs and rips off a piece of jerky. “When did you turn into such a wet fucking blanket?”

Her eyes flare with anger, despite that, he can hear how hurt she really is. “Maybe when you sold me!”

He tilts his head and runs his tongue over his teeth, “You ever gonna let that go? I told you it was a mistake. How was I supposed to know they were gonna breed you like a prize pig?”

She scoffs, the noise high pitched and shocked. She shakes her head and stares at him with wide eyes, “You are unbelievable.” He shrugs and takes a swig from the flask he’d stolen off one of the raiders. He’s not sure how they make their alcohol, or if they trade for it, but it’s fucking disgusting. He frowns at the flask and drains the rest of it before tossing it into the woods behind him. 

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, her voice tired as she asks, “What’s the plan here, Cooper?” 

He picks at his teeth and shakes his head, “With what?”

She leans against the log behind her and gestures at herself. “With me. What, are you going to wait for me to pass out so you can tie me up and send me back to the compound? I’ve seen the price on my head. I know how valuable I am to everyone in the Wastelands.”

He doesn’t know why what she’s saying bothers him so much but it does. “You really think I’d send you back there?”

Her face is devoid of anything as she responds, “Why wouldn’t you?”

It’s the bluntness with which she asks that, that bugs him. Like there’s no other possibility but him betraying her. Taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable and weak and then handing her over to the people who want her dead. He wouldn’t do that to her. 

He didn’t go through all this fucking trouble to find her just to lose her again. He wants to tell her as much but she’s on her feet and grabbing her bag before he can. “Look, I appreciate the help today, but I’m not interested in starting this partnership back up again. I think it’s better if we just part ways.”

He whips his gun out before he can think about what he’s doing. She freezes, still bent over and eyes his gun warily. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, darling.” He can’t let her leave again. And maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but he doesn’t know how else to stop her. 

“You gonna shoot me, Cooper?” She whispers, her own hand twitching for the revolver at her side. He stands up and grabs her wrists, ignoring the way she struggles against him. He binds her hands with his rope and he sits back down, 

“I’m not gonna turn you in and I’m not gonna shoot you. But you’re not getting out of here that easy, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow in on his, her fists clenched tightly in anger. “I killed two men with my hands bound today. What’s stopping me from killing you?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. There’s nothing stopping you, just like there’s nothing stopping me. But I’m not killing you, am I? See,” he leans forward, “I’ve fought too hard and spent too much time looking after you to just let you go now. We’re in this together, whether you want it or not.”

Her lips split in a sneer and she throws herself down on the log. “You’re all the fucking same. You treat me like a goddamn dog that needs to be beat into submission. I’m not some misbehaving pet, Cooper!” Her eyes well up and her voice breaks, “You don’t get to just leash me and expect me to be okay with it.”

“I’m under no illusions that you’re happy here, sweetheart.” He runs a hand down his face and she shakes her head in disbelief. 

“Then just let me go,” she’s bordering on begging now and his chest squeezes the longer she stares at him with those pleading eyes of hers. It’s not something he’s familiar with, this feeling, this longing for her to just shut the fuck up and stop making this so damn difficult for him. 

“I can’t,” he mutters, wanting her to just drop it. 

“Why not?” She snaps, dropping any pretenses of trying to get him to sympathize with her.

He surges forward and grabs her by the jaw. Her eyes widen in shock and he smashes their lips together, teeth clashing painfully. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about this kiss. Her teeth are ripping into his scarred lips until the taste of copper is spreading on his tongue. He groans, digging his fingers into her cheeks until her lips part. 

His tongue probes against hers, the taste of his blood spreading into her mouth as well. She whimpers, the noise stirring something in him he’d forgotten about. There’s an old desire bubbling in him that’s making him blind to the rest of the world. He wants her, more than he ever wants to admit. 

He’s wanted her for a long time before this and they both know it. How hard he’s fought against it, against moments like these. He didn’t think he was still capable of this feeling, this desire for her. But it’s consuming. She’s ruining him, running him in circles until he thinks he’s going insane. 

But it’s not the same gentle passion it once was. It’s as twisted as he’s become. The desire to possess, consume, covet until she’s his and only his to do with what he wants. His teeth dig into her, letting her blood overcome the taste of his own. He groans, his free hand grabbing her waist and yanking her closer. 

She tastes so much sweeter than he does, he wants to rip a chunk of her off and eat her whole. He’s so distracted he doesn't even notice her pulling out her gun until he’s shooting back from her. He lands roughly on the forest floor and groans, hands clutched over the bleeding hole in his gut. Pain radiates through his abdomen and he rolls onto his side.

He looks up at her in shock. She’s spitting their blood onto the ground, her bound hands wiping at her lips. “Asshole,” she mutters. She tucks her gun back in her holster and looks over at him. 

His eyes are wide in disbelief as he struggles to sit back up. The movement causes another wave of pain and he hisses through gritted teeth, “You shot me!”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a blank look, “You’ll live.” He limps back to his own seat and lifts his shirt, watching as the hole closes over slowly and the blood stops leaking. She watches as he heals and sighs, “Unfortunately.” He tugs it back down and sighs at the state of his shirt. 

“My shirt won’t.” He digs a finger into the hole and tugs on it, watching as it rips wider. Two hundred years he’s kept these clothes, she ruins them in a month. Un-fucking-believable. 

“Sew it,” she gripes, still wiping at her mouth. “I can’t believe you just fucking kissed me,” she frowns and spits again, bits of crimson lingering on her lips. 

He sighs and leans back against the tree. “Felt right in the moment.” It did, he wants to do it again. They’re even now, they’ve both shot each other twice. No reason for her to shoot again. 

He wants to feel the way she shivers against him and moans into his mouth. She can be pissed all she wants but she kissed back, she can’t deny that. He’s sure if she wasn’t tied up she’d be a bit more receptive to him. Or maybe she just needs time to cool off after the whole compound incident, a month seems like a reasonable amount of time. Then again, women are so damn unreasonable. 

She tugs a knife out of her boot and positions it between her knees. She places it between her wrists and saws at the rope until it falls free. She slides the knife back in her boot and tosses the ruined rope at him. 

He catches it with a sigh and glances up at her. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

Her eyes are alight with a challenge, “I wanted to see if you would let me go yourself.” Well, clearly, he had failed her little test. “I wanted to see if there was even a possibility I could ever trust you again.”

He gives her an unimpressed look, slightly pissed off about his shirt. He never should have taught her how to shoot. If he’d known it would come back to bite him in the ass he wouldn’t have. “And?”

She gives him a disbelieving look and shakes her head. “And instead of letting me go, you kissed me.“ She throws her hands up in astonishment and glares at him. “Why the hell would you think that was a good idea?”

He smirks and revels in the way she shivers at the sight. “Well, darling, I’ve always been better with actions not words.”

“Yeah,” her voice is a challenge, eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly in frustration. He loves the sight of her all riled up. He loves it even more knowing he’s the one getting her like this. “What were you trying to tell me with that little display?”

He doesn’t answer her question, not wanting to just yet. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Her mouth snaps shut and she looks away from him. He laughs, leaning back and giving her a smug look. “You can be pissed off at me as much as you want, sweetheart,” the nickname rolls off his tongue like a taunt and she sneers at him. “But you want me just the same as you used to.”

“Do you like hurting me? Is that why you keep me around? You’ve been alone for two hundred years, Cooper. And for the majority of them you’ve harbored this hatred for me because you thought I had abandoned you just like everyone else.” 

Her words strike a place deep inside him that has him on edge. She knows what she’s doing. He’s forgotten, in his time with her, that in the same way he can get under her skin, she can do it too. She knows him just as well, she’s just always been the better half of their duo. She never feels the need to stoop to the level he does. But she’s doing it now and it feels like a kick in the teeth. 

“And I’m the only one that’s actually stuck by you.” She laughs, but there’s an underlying pain to it. She looks away from him and wipes at her cheeks and his fists clench within his gloves. “Is this your revenge? You think by torturing me you get back at everyone whose ever fucked you over. I’m sick of it, Cooper. I’m not gonna let you use me anymore.”

“I feel for you,” he forces the words out. He doesn’t want to tell her this. He shouldn’t have to tell her this. She should just stick with him, it’s what they’d always done, it’s how it always should be. Them, together. But she’s fighting against that, against him, so much that he doesn’t have a choice. 

She’s backed him into a corner he doesn’t know how to get out of. “In a way I haven’t in a very long time. I can’t let you go. Don’t you get that, sweetheart? We’re in this together.”

She shakes her head and he sighs. “No,” she looks at him and just shakes her head again. “No, you don’t love me, Cooper, or you don’t want me at least. I’m not the same girl I was, that’s what you’re after. That idea in your head, of us together, that’s who I was. You were right, the Wastelands changes you. I can’t be her for you and I don’t want to be.”

He chuckles and she shrinks away from the sound in suspicion. “Newsflash, darling, I’m not the same man. I loved you a long time ago, sweetheart, but I’m not capable of that anymore. Not for the girl you were, anyway.”

She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she accepted the answer, but he could see beyond that, could see that she thought he was rejecting her. It hurt, she could hate him as much as she wanted, but that still hurt her. “Good,” she muttered, “she’s gone.”

“Well, good.” She shrank further into herself and he grinned.  “You. You as you are now. That’s what I want. I don’t give a shit about who we were, the only person I’ve wanted since I’ve been out here has been you. You’re the only person I’ve met who can actually keep up with me. I don’t give a shit if anyone in this godforsaken Wasteland lives or dies, but I give a shit about you. You’re also the only one who can knock me on my ass.”

Her eyes darted to the hole in his shirt and a small grin came over her lips. “Haven’t been shot a lot, have you, cowboy?”

“No,” he chuckles again and grins at her, “I haven’t. Though, I am still pretty pissed about the hole in my hat.”

Her tone loses a bit of her playfulness and she glares at him, “You more than earned that.”

He acquiesces and holds up his hands in surrender, “Maybe.” She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes. “But I think we’re even now.”

“Barely,” she mutters, rubbing at the bruises on her wrists. She glances up at him and sighs, a surrender in her eyes. “But, it’s close enough now.”

He stands up and she eyes him warily as he throws himself down on the log next to her. He holds out a hand, “What do you say, darling, partners?”

She sighs and stares at his hand for a long time. He doesn’t mind, he leaves it there, hovering between them. He knows she’ll take it. “Deny it as much as you want but this is how it’s meant to be. You can keep fighting it or save us both some time.”

She reaches forward and tentatively wraps a hand around his, she uses it to yank him forward, their faces separated by an inch. “Shoot me again,” she whispers, “and I won’t miss the next time I knock you on your ass.”

“Oh shit,” you jump at the kickback on the rifle and nearly drop it to the ground. Cooper laughs and reaches around you, taking it from you. 

“Maybe I should have started you off with something with a little less kick to it.” He props the rifle against the tree and glances over to the cans you’d been shooting at. Well, you’d gotten one out of five at least. 

In all fairness this was the first time you’d ever handled a gun, you’re sure you’re doing fine for a beginner. He sucks on his teeth and looks at your targets. The serious look on his face cracks and he’s clearly trying to fight off laughing. 

You shove at his shoulder, smiling, “Shut up. I’ve never used one of these things before.”

He picks the rifle back up and starts laughing now, “You mean a gun?” 

You throw your arms in the air in defeat and slump into the patio chairs he’s dragged to the back of the cabin. “This is pointless, anyway.” He cocks the rifle and lifts it up to aim properly. In quick succession he knocks the remaining four cans off the fence. You roll your eyes at him, “Show off.”

He smiles and takes a seat next to you. You remain silent for a while, gazing across the yard and to the towering mountains across from his cabin. You appreciate him inviting you here. When you’d told him how overwhelmed you’d been feeling with all the new publicity you hadn’t expected him to drag you all the way out to his mountain home. 

You wouldn’t have accepted if you’d known it was just going to be you and him. You’d thought he was bringing his wife and kid, too. Spending a long weekend playing house with Cooper wasn’t going to do anything in getting rid of your crush. It was just getting worse the longer you were around him.

Waking up everyday and having him be the first person to greet you was going to send you into an early grave. You swear your heart’s never beat this fast around anyone else. He seems to be the only man who's ever had you feeling this head over heels. 

“I think it’s important you learn.”

You glance over at him, surprised at how serious he sounds. He’s still staring out at the mountains, but his gaze is distant. His mind is some place else. “Why?” You ask, voice quiet, afraid to spoil the moment.

He finally blinks, gaze darting down to his hands and the rifle still in them. “It’s easy for people to dismiss the war nowadays. They weren’t there, they didn’t watch as hundreds of good men and women died for them.” You frown, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’d been fighting on the frontlines. He’s so good at being a socialite, you feel guilty that even you sometimes forget he was a soldier before he was Cooper Howard. 

His voice is heavy, the tension thick around the both of you. “They seem to think the war is over. I know it’s not, it’s just going to get worse. People can bury their heads in the sand as long as they want, but when the fighting is at their front door, what are they going to do?”

You reach out, hand covering his own. He finally looks up at you and you smile. “I appreciate it, Cooper.”

His eyes quickly look at your hand before looking back at you. “For what?”

You shrug, moving closer to him and lacing your fingers with his. You shouldn’t indulge yourself like this, but you can’t help it. He seems so sad and you only want to make him feel better. You just want to take care of him, the way he takes care of you. 

“For always looking out for me. You’re always there, I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

The sad cast over his face finally breaks and he smiles at you. His hand squeezes yours once, then again and he looks back out at the mountains without saying anything else. You don’t think he needs to, that either of you needs to. Sometimes you understand each other better without words. 

You’ll always be there for one another.

You eye him warily and he holds the jerky out further. “Aren’t you a little curious?” He taunts, waving the jerky around in front of your face. You know he thinks you won’t take it. That he’s just screwing with you. He’s been doing this ever since you agreed to tag along with him. Teasing you at every given opportunity. 

You snatch it from his hands and rip a piece of it off. It kind of tastes like beef, if not a little sweeter. There’s also that metallic radiated tang to it. You chew it slowly, savoring the slightly caught off guard look on his face. You swallow it down, forcing your face to stay straight and not give away how disgusted you feel right now. 

He chuckles, leaning back and looking at you with something that seems like appreciation. “I hope you know that was ass jerky.”

You gag now, glaring at him and tossing the rest of the jerky at his smug face. “You’re such a dick.” You take a swig from your canteen and swirl the water around your mouth. It gets rid of the taste well enough but you’re never going to get over the fact that you swallowed a part of someone’s ass. 

He suddenly gets serious, swatting at your arm and motioning to the front of the store. You crouch beside him, watching as a raider walks out of the front doors. You don’t get why they chose an old movie store for their hideout, but Cooper had it on good authority that they had a decent cache of supplies inside. 

The last time you’d followed him into one of these things, you’d nearly died, and then he’d sold you. You’re still not fully trusting of him. The only reason you’re with him now is because you need extra security from bounty hunters after getting booted out of Filly. 

If he wasn’t such a good shot, you would have never given him a second glance. Despite how much he insists the compound was an honest mistake, you find the trust slow to come. You’ll let him take the lead on this one, you’re not confident in him having your back if things take a turn. 

He moves forward and you hang back, keeping watch while he slits the guard’s throat. He lowers the body quietly to the ground and you creep behind him, following him through the doors of the store. 

This group is smaller than the last one you dealt with. Only five of them with no extra guards outside. Cooper ducks behind a dust covered shelf before they can spot either of you. You go to the other side of the store, moving slowly along the edge until you have a good shot. 

You take out one man and Cooper manages to hit two more before they start firing off their own guns. You dart back behind the shelf, willing to let Cooper handle the last two. But one of them dives behind the shelf and grabs at you. 

Another shot goes off and his friend’s body hits the ground while he rounds the corner with you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your throat and the barrel of his gun pushing so hard into your skull you can feel an indent forming. 

It wouldn’t be hard to shoot this guy, you still have your gun in your hand. Cooper seems to realize that, too, from the questioning look he gives you. You drop your gun to the floor, you want to see what he’ll do. 

Maybe you’re stupid, gambling with your life like this. But you don’t feel any fear, not from the guy holding you hostage at least. You just keep your eyes locked on Cooper’s. They’re so familiar to you, yet so distant. Like a stranger you’ve known all your life. 

He slowly rises from the floor, hands raised in the air in surrender. “Alright, let’s just see if we can’t talk this out like gentlemen.”

The guy holding you jerks you roughly, gun banging painfully against your temple. You wince but remain quiet. “Stay back or I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!”

Cooper’s eyes dart from your face to the guy. He huffs, frowning and pursing his lips like he’s trying to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He could leave, he’s got enough time to make it through the door before he fires at him. 

Or he could help you. 

It’s the only reason you let yourself get caught. If he wants your trust he’s going to have to prove it. Cooper looks at you and a grin splits across his face. It’s like he’s read your mind, from the knowing look on his face you think he might’ve. 

Then again, you never really needed words to talk to each other. 

With a speed that never fails to catch you off guard his hand darts under his jacket and he draws his gun. He’s shooting the man before you even get a chance to brace yourself. Your body gets dragged back slightly by the dead weight but Cooper moves forward and wraps a hand around your shirt, tugging you into him. 

Your hands shoot out, bracing yourself against his chest. He peers at you from under his hat and grins, “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you go that easy did you, darling?” Your eyes dart down to his lips, you feel like you can still taste him. 

The timing of his kiss might not have been appropriate, but he certainly hadn’t made it forgettable. Nothing about him was forgettable. As much as you wished he could be. You hated yourself for still letting yourself fall into his trap. 

Hollywood might have once labeled you as the most seductive actress of your generation, but Cooper had you beat. He kept you coming back even when you knew you shouldn’t. He had you wrapped around him and all you wanted to do was squeeze until he let you go. 

You push off of him, ignoring how much you want to pull him closer. You move towards their pile of supplies, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

There are a few different posters set up in the old movie store that intrigue him. But the one that’s caught his attention the most is set up directly behind her. Her back is to it, so she hasn’t gotten a chance to see it yet, but it’s all he can focus on. 

The Outlaw and The Sheriff

Their first movie together. 

He looks at her and huffs out a laugh, she glances up at him for a moment before she begins rifling through her bag again. She looks like she walked right off the fucking poster, hat and all. She’s the spitting image of herself, but she seems so different. 

Maybe it’s the eyes. The light there has changed, dimmed slightly from how it used to be. She used to seem so naive to the world, like a little lamb that just needed some guidance. Now, he wonders just how much of the world she’d seen before he found her. If maybe she had never been as innocent to it’s cruelties as he’d once assumed. 

She stepped into this new role of hers just as quickly as he had. You didn’t just change that quickly without knowing already just how awful people could be. 

“Sweetheart,” she looks up and he points behind her. She turns around and looks up to the poster.

She scoffs, moving to stand beside him, “I always hated how I looked in that.”

He glances over at her and shakes his head, “Probably shouldn’t show you a mirror anytime soon, then.” Her hands reach up to fiddle with the brim of her hat and she smiles, a real smile for once. 

“No, I suppose not.” Her hands trace over her lips, he glances back at the poster. At that old signature of hers. She always had to have those red lips. “It’s so different,” she whispers and he knows she didn’t mean for him to hear. Her eyes glisten and he frowns. 

He shouldn’t have shown her. It’s not like he enjoyed seeing those fucking Vault-Boy posters, he sure as hell hated seeing clips of himself. Why would she enjoy seeing who she used to be? Who they used to be?

Things used to be so simple. He loved her, she loved him. Now he’d fucked up so much he wasn’t sure she could ever look at him the way she used to. He didn’t want who she was before, he couldn’t handle that. This new her, well, he didn’t give her near enough credit. 

But he wouldn’t hate seeing someone look at him like that again. Endless adoration and unflinching loyalty. He knew he would follow her anywhere, he’d realized that a while ago. He didn’t have anything in the Wastelands, nothing but hate and spite to keep him going all this time.

Now, he had her. He just needed her to realize that she had him just the same. She had him wrapped around her and he hated it and loved it at the same time. Hated her and loved her for it all the same. 

He tugs his glove off before he reaches for her. He cups her cheek, thumb tracing over her lips before she turns towards him. His eyes meet hers and he smiles slightly at the familiarity and mystery to them. So much of her he recognizes and then there are these new parts he’s yet to discover. 

He wants to discover all of her. Learn everything he can about her all over again, feed his desire to consume her entirely. 

She pulls him in this time, her lips chapped and cracked. Her arms wind around his neck, yanking him closer and he tugs at her. She tastes as sweet as he remembers and it only makes him crave more. More of her, more of anything she’ll let him have. 

She pulls back from him, pressing her hand against his chest, slowly backing him against the wall. He lets her ease him to the floor and she throws a leg over his lap. She settles herself above him, both her hands tightly grasping his neck, crushing their bodies together, eyes gazing intently into his own. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for in him but she seems to find it when she leans in once more. 

She isn’t giving him a chance at control, she’s got a leash on him, pulling back anytime he tries to lead. He relents, following her as she slowly explores him. 

He’s not sure how long this peace between them will last before one of them inevitably fucks up. But they’re stuck together now. It doesn’t matter what happens, he’s not letting her get away from him again. 

She’s his, always has been, always will be. It’s been that way since before the fallout. He’s led her, guided her.

He had loved her as a different man. History always seems to repeat itself with them. As twisted as the world is, as twisted as they’ve become, they always seem to drift back together. No matter how much the both of them fight against it. 

He’s giving in now, giving into her. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[genericpuff]

So I watched ChattyMia's Lore Olympus video which was great and everyone should watch it. It seems most people who do series reviews of the Lore Olympus don't like the comic for obvious reasons. Then I was reminded by the end that the comic is expecting a TV series which is in development hell. It made me think that Rachel might be better off not having a Lore Olympus TV show. Most praise for the series died awhile ago as the story became an utter mess. If it did get a TV show, people will see the early red flags like the age gap, the treatment of Minthe, trying to excuse cheating, Hades horrible behavior to workers, nymphs being discriminated with no pushback, etc. If some of them read the comic for spoilers they would later see the other big red flags of the series. Excusing slave labor, Persephone threatening the lower class, Hera getting with Echo a 'trash nypmh' as she once called Minthe, Apollo gets community service, the continued mistreatment of Demeter etc. Which I feel will cause everyone to go 'wtf is this series? 50 Shades of Grey mixed with Keeping Up with the Kardashians?'. Then you have to wonder if some of them will do a deep dive and find the stuff about Rachel's tie to Lolita. It would be especially bad if a bigger content creator talked about it. And we already know Rachel doesn't handle criticism the best (i.e. the struggle street tweet, the Minthe cosplay situation or even the merch). So I could only imagine how much worse it would be for her if Lore Olympus got a TV show and more eyes got drawn to it and her. It would no longer be just confided to the web comics fanbase but the much larger TV one. Unless Rachel seriously considered rewriting the TV script (or rekindling it lol) I don't see how a TV adaptation of her show would be good press for her.

Yess I've seen that video, it's great! She did a great job summarizing a lot of the biggest core issues with LO's story and art without getting too lost in the sauce (though god knows the rabbithole of LO's issues runs INCREDIBLY deep in an equally fascinating and "oh god what the fuck did I just read' kind of way), her video editing was very entertaining and her Persephone cosplay was a great touch 😎

That said, regarding the thought of "most people who do series reviews of LO don't like the comic", there is an amount of bias we have to acknowledge there - there's often a lot more to say in the negative rather than the positive. By extension, people who simply enjoy LO and don't participate much in the online discussion surrounding it or the discourse concerning it are less likely to make 2 hour videos analyzing it. So while the popular opinion of LO has shifted more towards a negative point of view, that doesn't mean that fans of the comic don't exist - it's just that most of those fans are blissfully enjoying the comic and can only sum it up as "it's very pretty and the plot is great", whereas many people who didn't enjoy it are more likely to voice their opinions as to why in far more explicit detail (though on the flipside of that, it also goes to show that there's a lot more to analyze in LO's flaws than its strengths - it's ironic that the fans often don't have much to say beyond "it's cute" or "I relate to Persephone" and anything further than that is relegated to pure headcanon pieced together by assumption and best guesses to make up for Rachel's lack of writing).

All that aside though, regarding the TV adaption, at this point it's less a matter of reception and more a matter of relevancy. The perfect time to release or at least show us proof of the LO TV show was years ago, when the comic was at its peak between 2020-2021. The second best time was at last year's NYCC when Rachel was a headlining guest. The fact they still had nothing to show for it at this year's NYCC, with Rachel nowhere to be seen and instead focusing more on the Freaking Romance adaption with Snailords filling the role as their featured guest (an equally if not even more problematic creator), is astounding, but unsurprising.

To me, LO feels like a real life case of "Tortoise and the Hare". Back at the start of it all, in 2017-2018, it was doing what no other comic on the platform was doing, presenting us a retelling of the Hades and Persephone story - which was very popular on Tumblr at the time - through a modern setting and with art that was incredibly unique for the platform. That, paired with WT's aggressive marketing, propelled it far ahead every other comic on the platform, creating a gap so massive that even the comics in second place on the trending tabs still weren't even close to LO's lead in terms of stats and money.

But then it got complacent. Quality of the comic's writing and art dropped, it was becoming increasingly obvious that LO had become no more than a marketing grift akin to the likes of Harry Potter - easily turned into books, t-shirts, socks, coloring books, figures, etc. - and that gave way to an increase of criticism towards it, criticism that had always somewhat existed even as far back as its days on Tumblr, but was now amplified by the existing ongoing proof that LO was never all it was cracked up to be.

Now, at best they shill $200+ figurine pre-orders, but the show is nowhere to be seen and, with the comic now finished and locked behind Daily Pass, its relevancy is dying out. "Rachel Smythe Presents" still has nothing to show for itself, Rachel's IG and Twitter seem to be purely for merch-pushing by the Inklore team, and Rachel has, at best, two new series that she suddenly announced but, in her words, don't even have anything written or planned for them yet beyond the taglines that were thrown together for her socials.

Meanwhile, the rest of the Greek myth retelling industry is in a renaissance. Hades is still a massively popular game, with its sequel now in early access; Epic: The Musical has been making waves on Spotify and TikTok far exceeding that of LO's in terms of audience reach, and even has more to show for itself in the way of official animations than LO ever has; and now Kaos has recently launched its first season after being in production since 2018 - yes, you read that right, it got commissioned around the exact same time LO became an Originals series which suggests the idea for it was already floating around and being pitched prior to LO - and, frankly, has beaten LO at its own game by achieving everything LO set out to do - weaving a Greek epic-style story in a modern setting, balancing romance with prophecies and world-ending stakes. It took a while, but Kaos made it past the finishing line, while LO has been dragging itself behind it, still making empty promises that a TV show is "still in the works" and "coming soon", with not a single thing to show for itself.

LO may have gotten a head start in being the "sleek, modern, sexy Greek myth retelling" by the virtue of being a weekly webtoon, but slow and steady wins the race - the productions that have taken their time cooking in the oven are now coming out as beautiful and delicious as we, the guests at the table, were told would be, while LO is simply the short-term gratification junk food that bombards us with gimmicks but sits like a rock in our stomachs and leaves us unfulfilled and wishing for a better meal.

Those better meals are here now and they were absolutely worth the wait.

[baronessvonglitter]

Law of Attraction ~ Chapter 4

Rom Con AU divorce lawyer!Dave York x fem!Reader

Word count: 2,759

Summary: You and Dave naturally become closer in a friendship comprised of two lonely people.

WARNINGS: Rated T. No smut, but there is brief mention of a fantasy (nothing described). Dave is a capital S - Simp! No physical infidelity but definitely an emotional affair. Fluff. Idiots falling in love and they don't even know it yet. No use of y/n.

Author's note: I wanted to give these two some more time together to let their romance blossom. They keep going on dates that are not dates but are totally dates. I want to thank everyone who's shown love for this lil series of mine, which is honestly such a surprise because I wrote it thinking people would pan it. I will strive to keep bringing y'all some rom com goodness 🩷

Series Masterlist

Out of sight, out of mind. But even when you're not in sight, you're still on Dave's mind.

He starts his morning early, a brisk run through the park, a shower, selecting a suit for that day, rifling through the abundance of ties he has on a spinning rack in the walk-in close he shares with Carol.

Nine times out of ten she disapproves, making a face when he comes down, swiftly putting down her tea so she can remove whatever color or print has offended her eyes and telling him which one to wear. Though he's a lawyer he's not going to argue with his wife. He goes upstairs and switches it out for the one Carol wants.

Breakfast is usually had on the go, but he makes sure the girls get to school with something nutritious in their bellies, walking them to the school doors and kissing the tops of their heads before they disappear inside. He's aware of the looks some of the mothers and even the teachers give him, and he gives a friendly wave or smile to each, but he's not thinking about their smiles and sultry 'good morning' greetings.

He thinks about you more often than he should, considering you're no longer his client. But he appreciates that you promote his services on the corkboard near the register at your bakery.

A smile stays on his face all day when you send over a thank-you gift of an assortment of bagels and muffins, complete with flavored cream cheese, butter, and jam. It's the most thoughtful thing anyone's done for him in a long time, made concrete when he spots a special blueberry muffin in a separate pastry box from the others, with a little note tucked inside:

I can't thank you enough, Dave. I'll always appreciate what you've done for me. Your name is signed on the bottom.

There's a slight scent on the paper, probably the perfume on your wrist that rubbed off as you wrote the note. He presses it to his lips just briefly.

He goes to your cafe every morning, heart racing, gut twisting with anticipation of seeing you. He subtly checks himself in the window before going in, making sure his hair looks okay and his tie is straight.

On the days he doesn't see you there, disappointment sits heavy in his chest, similar to a kind of heartbreak, as he orders his coffee and heads across the street to work.

He tries not to look overeager when he does see you behind the counter, though he feels the blood rush to his face (and even lower, if he's honest). Sure, he's found other women attractive, but he hasn't had a crush since high school.

And that's just what this is - a crush.

You're beautiful and kind and funny and smart. And single.

And he's married.

Still, it's not a crime to get a coffee and a raspberry danish just because the owner is a stunning and sweet former client.

You greet him with a smile that's different from others, special, set aside, more genuine. And he returns that smile. You've stopped insisting he doesn't need to pay, and take his credit card with a little smirk as you spy him putting money in the tip jar.

"What? Business is obviously terrible," he returns your smirk, glancing back at the line that's formed, that forms every day in fact. You haven't had a bad business day in awhile, and he's happy to be a small part of your patronage.

Every day is too much, right? It's not like you have much time to chat anyway. A quick hello, do anything fun over the weekend, hope you have a good day.

He makes the choice to go just three days a week. He's worried he might come off as a stalker, some deranged guy wanting your attention because you're single now. On the days he doesn't come to your cafe he stays at the office, puts his coffee order in with a group DoorDashing from Starbucks or Dunkin' Donuts, and it never tastes the same as yours.

It doesn't help that you're suddenly gone for a week. Then two. The last time you'd been absent was right after your breakup with that asshole Javier, and he worries about you. In between meetings and consultations, he finds your file with your phone number, but thinks twice about calling or texting you.

The next time he's at the cafe he casually asks the young man at the register, "Hey, I haven't seen the big boss in awhile," and the cashier tells him your on a vacation with your family.

He's grateful you're okay, and glad you're enjoying yourself after all you've been through so far. But it doesn't really ease the ache that gnaws at him like a fresh bruise that has yet to turn an odd color.

It takes him completely by surprise when, the next time he does see you, you pull him aside to show him your photos from the cruise you took with your parents and siblings, turquoise-polished thumb swiping gracefully over photos of you with your family posing in front of a huge cruise ship; some scenery shots of the ocean and pink sands of the Bahamas; and others of you hanging out on the pool deck sipping a fruity orange drink, a beatific smile on your lips. Dave gives a small cough when he sees one of you in your swimsuit, obviously just a selfie and not meant to be seen by him. He blushes as you click out of the photos.

"Sorry, I guess I just wanted to tell someone how it went," you tell him, putting your phone away.

"Don't be sorry. Looks like you had fun."

"I was a little seasick the first few days. It was awful," you laugh.

"I know how you feel. My wife and I took the kids on one of those Disney cruises last year, and I'd never been happier to set foot on dry land."

He asks you more about the sights, the beaches, the restaurants. There's nothing better than the smile that lights up your face as you talk about your experiences, and he hangs onto every word.

Suddenly there's a buzzing in his pocket. He reaches quickly for his phone and learns he's late for a meeting with a new client. He curses quietly. "I have to go," he apologizes. "We should catch up later."

"Lunch tomorrow?" It's hard for him to ignore the hopefulness in your voice, the notes of which sing straight into his heart.

"Tomorrow," he nods and smiles, heading out.

It's just supposed to be one lunch. Just two people who know each other and get along well. Just friends, but even Dave doesn't dare to let his mind venture too far into any further possibilities because of the fact that you're vulnerable.

Dave wants to feel guilty for monopolizing your free time, especially considering the way he feels about you. But then one lunch turns into two, and then three. and it becomes the most natural thing in the world to meet with you for an hour or so during the day. There's a significance in carving out time for each other that neither of you mention as an easy, genuine affinity blooms between you.

He's never texted another woman simply because he wants to. Everything has been business related, but he catches the way his heart skips a beat when he receives a text from you. Due to the nature of his work he keeps some privacy by only showing your name and not the message itself on his home screen. It's usually something related to your plans:

I heard that new sandwich place is really good. We should lunch there soon.

I'm trying out a new muffin recipe. Stop by tomorrow and tell me what you think.

They're featuring Monet at the museum this week and I'd love to get you in for free again!

It's not a date, but quite reminiscent of one when he does meet you on the front steps of the museum. His hand naturally rests on the small of your back, a gesture born of protectiveness and intimacy. You don't smell of roses this time, but something softer, sweeter, indefinably you. Dressed all in pink, from the casual long sleeve shirt and sequined skirt to the flowers you're idly twirling in your fingers, you look like a dream.

He never feels at peace unless he's in your presence, a fact which he tries like hell not to think about. You're not even trying to be alluring, and that's the hard part. If you'd make a move he'd politely sidestep it (or at least he tells himself he would) but you're just friendly, approachable, sweet.

You watch the art and Dave watches you. Your profile, the way your eyes squint slightly when you're really trying to see the details of the paintings, the quick pink tongue that peeks out to wet your lips now and then. And when you catch him staring at you, you have the audacity to smile, give him a playful shove. It could be your slight warning, your reminder that he's married and you're friends. But he doesn't mind the contact, as brief as it is.

As he walks you to your car it starts pouring down rain. Sans umbrella, he whisks you under the nearest canopy to wait out the sudden shower.

"How did you know I wanted to see a movie?" you tease him, and he looks up to see you're taking shelter under a marquee heralding classic films.

"Shall we?" he asks, and after purchasing two tickets you find your way inside. The theater is cozy and warm as The Apartment plays onscreen. Your fingers touch while you share the popcorn bucket, and he chuckles when you get brain freeze from your cherry icee.

"Are you okay?" he asks, slipping his arm around your shoulders. It's an involuntary act that doesn't register until he feels the warmth of your body under his touch and he tenses around you for a moment.

He's tempted to leave it there for the rest of the movie, but he knows how it would sound if someone saw him here with you and it got back to Carol. He could probably talk his way out of it if she ever questioned him, but he also knows she's so preoccupied with her own life that she'd be completely oblivious if he were to bring you home and do ungentlemanly things to you in front of her.

"What does she do?" you ask as you're sharing a post-movie snack at the cafe. It's near closing time and you've whipped up Monte Cristo sandwiches and hot herbal tea. ("I just love tea after a good rain," you'd told him, and he stashed away that little fact in his ever-growing file of you in his brain.)

"Carol's a hospital director at Mercy Memorial," he says, hoping that saying her name out loud will ward off the thoughts he's having about you.

"That sounds pretty important. A lawyer and a hospital director.." you sip your drink, letting the heat from the cup warm your hands.

"She likes taking charge and making decisions," he shrugs. "I guess you could say it suits her."

You'd brought her up simply because you felt you needed to. Spending all this extra time with someone whose wife you weren't even acquainted with was starting to feel like a secret you could never spill. You thought about all the women you know Javier had been involved with, knowing he was taken. Did they ever stop and think about you and how their actions would hurt you?

Then again, you doubt any of Javier's whores had daydreamed over Monet paintings with him, or shared a laugh over an old black and white film. They likely never ran through rain sprinkles or cooked a late night meal together.

But it doesn't necessarily make you innocent.

"What would she say about us.. hanging out?"

Dave really thinks about the question. "I don't know, " he says at last. "She might not even care."

"Don't say that," you tell him immediately. "She's been with you for so long. She obviously loves you and the girls." When Dave goes quiet over this, you fill the silence before it can become awkward. "Sorry.. I didn't mean to put a damper on our day."

Our day. Dave has to smile at the comforting sound those words have."I'm sorry," he says. "I wish I knew what was going on in Carol's head. It sometimes feels like we're in a chess match and she's playing by a different set of rules that's never existed before."

You lean forward in your seat, listening.

"She's a control freak," he says at last. "She works too much and criticizes people for what they lack. I proposed to her when I was in law school and she refused, saying she wanted to be engaged to an actual attorney. She wouldn't say yes until I passed the bar."

That should have been the first red flag, he knows that now. But he was young and in love. Carol had first dated Dave's college roommate before things went sour with them. Now he knows she just wanted to marry status.

"She hated that I changed fields. Criminal law is where most of us can make a name for ourselves, but I wanted something else. She gave me the cold shoulder for three weeks when I switched to family law." He chuckles at it now, but at the time he felt like nothing he could do was ever good enough for her. Any time he was happy she seemed to be the opposite.

"And then the kids came and every perspective I had changed. Children can bring a couple together. But more often they split you apart."

"Alice and Molly are great," you tell him, sensing he needs some positive reassurance. "They're such sweet kids."

Dave agrees smiling. "And how are you doing? How's living on your own for the first time?"

A dry, bitter chuckle leaves you. "I'm considering getting a cat. But I know I'd pick up stray after stray.. I'm continually one cat away from being the Crazy Lonely Cat Woman."

"You should get a dog," he says.

"Do you have one?"

He shakes his head. "Can't. Carol's allergic."

"Then I'll definitely get one. We'll pick out a dog together and I'll keep it at my place, and you can come and visit whenever you want."

"That actually sounds like a nice idea.."

"What kind of dog should we get? A nice golden retriever? Labradoodle? Shiba Inu?"

"I'm pretty sure that last one's made up," he smirks. And yet it feels so normal, discussing something so domestic with you, and the thought of sharing any kind of space with you sets a new beat to his heart, as if redirecting and resetting it.

Later after you've closed up he walks you to your car. There's a chill in the air and you've rolled your sleeves down. You've put the pink flowers you had from earlier that day in your purse. When you release them they fill the air between you with their fragrance. "Give these to Carol," you tell him, hating to waste the last of their beauty forgotten on your dashboard.

"And, do me another favor, Dave?" He turns back to you when you call out.

You smile, holding his gaze a little longer. "Wear blue more often. It brings out your eyes.."

Carol doesn't come home until after Dave is already awake. She either ignores or doesn't notice the flowers he left on her pillow, and it pleases him to have a reminder of you in his own bed, as if you've already made your mark on something so intimate.

Later when he comes downstairs in a navy suit and royal blue tie, he ignores Carol's critical stare as he grabs an apple from the counter.

"Darling, change something about that suit. You look like you're going to a wedding."

He shakes his head, enjoying the look on his wife's face when he refuses to comply. "I like it. Blue's my color."

"At least get that ridiculous wilted flower out of your pocket."

He pats the pink bloom you gave him the night before, a small symbol of his insubordination and leaves without saying anything, pulling out his phone to text you good morning.

dividers by @strangergraphics 👑

taglist: @penascigarette @joelalorian @la-vie-est-une-fleur29

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@almostempty

[lokisprettygirl]

Close Ties (Daemon Targaryen x Female Reader) (Modern AU) (Non canon) (18+)

Read Chapter 3 // Series Masterlist

Chapter 4

Summary: Things get messier as you both try to ignore the undeniable chemistry between yourselves.

Warning: 18+, smut, dad's best friend trope, canon (we don't know her), familial uncle niece sort of relationship but he's not really her uncle, there will be more smut later, significant age gap but reader is in her mid twenties, mention of infidelity, divorce, smoking and alcohol drinking,

You were finally back home at your parent's when you realised Daemon was going to live with them, thankfully you didn't have to be there forever, you had your own place a few miles away but your parents insisted for you to stay a little longer, none of your excuses worked on them.

It's been three days since you had been here, Everytime your eyes met with Daemon you looked away, ever since he had reminded you that he remembered the night you have been avoiding him and he had noticed, of course he did.

If all of this wasn't bad enough you also overheard Cassandra fighting with him last night, well to be fair she was the one yelling and he was trying to pacify her. Later that night she entered your room with a puffed up post crying face and you somehow managed to keep her away from him after that but she seemed as if she was utterly devastated by this thing ending between them which you didn't understand..

Aemond had been in touch with you via calls and texts but you hadn't met up with him since Bali, also your ex Dylan has been calling you at least ten times a day. When Cassandra finally went back to her place the next day you walked towards Daemon's room and knocked, he had just returned from a meeting with your dad, he wanted Daemon to work for him. The richer he got the more users he befriended which wasn't good for his business and he wanted Daemon to handle his finances now. He trusted Daemon more than anyone else in his life.

Why didn't he stop him from leaving then all those years ago?

As he opened the door he was still in his business suit, he had earpods in and you realised he was on a call so you tried to excuse yourself and leave but he grabbed your arm and pulled you into the room slowly, he still had his eyes on you even though he was completely engrossed in that other conversation. Okay he didn't have to be so goddamn sexy all the time.

He had his hand wrapped around your upper arm as he walked back and forth while he kept the call going, taking you along with him like a child on a ride.

"Sorry dear, I had to finish that call" he mumbled as he let go of you and put his phone down on the bed, then he took his coat off, loosened his tie and rolled up his sleeves one by one revealing those gorgeous forearms. You almost forgot why you were there in the first place.

"What is wrong?" He asked you so you crossed your arms together.

"What did you say to Cassandra? She's a mess..I have never seen her be this way.. usually uhhh it's the other way around" his brows furrowed as you said that.

"I told her the truth.. I'm not her boyfriend, we are not in a relationship..i had to end things so I did" he told you as he took his tie off, and unbuttoned the top three buttons of his white shirt. His room smelled like his cologne, you felt the need to bask in it and snuggle to his thick daddy body but you were discussing the matters of your best friend with him instead.

"She ummm.. wants to keep the fling going" he looked at you as you said that, he wasn't fazed at all.

"I don't give a shit about what she wants darling" He snickered so you glared at him and the smirk vanished almost instantly "Why are you upset with me?" He asked you so you shrugged again,

"I am not upset with you ..uncle"

"Then why have you been ignoring me?"

"I'm not ignoring you uncle"

Uncle uncle uncle. He wasn't sure if he wanted to be your uncle anymore.

"Alright Pixie.. whatever you say" he smiled as he walked towards his closet to grab a towel, your phone started to ring so you took it out of your pants pocket and groaned as you looked at another unknown number.

"Well I'll see you at dinner then.. uncle" you turned around swiftly to leave, closing the door on your way out. Daemon knew now that he shouldn't have slept with your best friend but he wasn't in his senses, he felt lonely and he needed someone to distract him, he had no clue Cassandra would become such a pain in the ass, he probably would have kept the thing going if she wasn't such a brat.

While in the shower he looked back at the last three days and he knew you were ignoring him ever since he had reminded you that he remembered that night when he had subtly caressed your lips and kissed your cheek followed by that not so innocent intimate hugging.

He was drunk and he had lesser control on his actions that night, he was just glad he was able to pull away at the right time. However your reaction to him was what kept him up that night, the way you clutched your fingers around his neck and hugged him so tightly was seared in his memory and now you were avoiding him.

Were you embarrassed by your reaction or you felt violated by him? He needed to make sure he hadn't done something that would make you see him differently, sure he had hots for his best friend's daughter but he wasn't going to let it ruin things between him and your family.

At the dinner table he watched you grimacing as your phone continued to bother you once in a while, as your eyes met with him he gave you a smile so you returned it. You didn't want to be rude even though you were starting to feel a bit of underserved resentment towards him.

His plan to enjoy his dinner in peace after a long day also was ruined as he watched Cassandra sauntering towards the table,

"Hello everyone" she smiled as she sat down next to you.

Throughout the dinner she continued to glare at him and even you noticed that, she has known him for mere few days so her obsessive behaviour towards him didn't make much sense to you. What did she want from him? More sex?

Once she was done eating you dragged her back to your room before she'd make a scene in front of your parents.

"Cass what are you doing? You didn't even tell me you were joining us for dinner" you asked her so she chuckled as she sat down on the bed and proceeded to cross her legs elegantly.

"Really? Now I have to take appointments to see you guys? Since when?" She asked you as she tilted her head so you sighed and walked towards her to give her a hug.

"That's not what I meant..look ..he's not the first man you have had a fling with. Why are you so affected by this?" You asked her calmly so she whined like a child.

"I don't know..I just ..I'm not used to guys breaking off things with me..you have no idea how this feels"

Well she was bothered because she hasn't been rejected before in her life? Yeah you couldn't relate.

"He's not just some guy cass..he's my ..hes..like my uncle..you knew what you were getting into right? My dad just got his friend back and I need him to stay.. please just forget about him"

"I need him back so I can reject him" she smirked and you just wanted to slap her in the face at the moment.

"You're being ridiculous" you told her plainly and all you got in response was an eye roll..

Your phone rang once again and you wanted to throw it out the window this time, you had blocked Dylan's number like five times but he was very persistent just the way he was in the beginning of your relationship with him.

As Cassandra finally left you made your way downstairs, you really needed to go out for a stroll to clear your head. On the way out your dad spotted you leaving since he was with Daemon in the living room discussing business and he was concerned that you were going out alone at such an hour so he asked Daemon if he'd mind joining you..

"Can I accompany you pixie?" Daemon asked you softly so you nodded. Well you'd let him do anything if he asked like that.

"Keep her safe mate" your dad said to him so he smiled in response..

As you began to walk away from your parents house there was an awkward silence between you two but you were the first one to break the ice.

"I can walk by myself, I'm not a kid you know" you said to him so he chuckled,

"I don't think of you as one Pixie" his rough voice gave you goosebumps, "that wouldn't discourage me from wanting to keep you safe though" you smiled as he said that

"Mmm i appreciate that"

"Are you alright? You seem a bit troubled. Who's bothering you?"

He asked so you chuckled, at least he cared. You were not used to being cared for. Sometimes you felt as if you were always there for Cassandra but she wasn't always there for you when you needed a friend to share your troubles with or just vent like a normal person..

"Well for one…Cassandra is bothering me with her constant cribbing.. and she's cribbing because of you so you're also bothering me" His smile faded as you said that ..he didn't want that for you. He never wanted to do something that would bother you.

"I'd apologise pixie but I'm not sure how I can fix the situation now "

Well don't fuck her again you thought. You suddenly felt bad about saying that to him, you didn't want to make him feel obligated for your mood swings or upset him in any way. Cassandra knew what it was from the beginning, he was honest with her, he didn't promise her the world and then broke them all.

Late at night you couldn't bear the guilt of supposedly upsetting him or making him sad so you got up and made your way to his room, you didn't have to knock as he had kept his door open.

"You're not bothering me I swear..I'm sorry i said that" you mumbled hurriedly as soon as you entered his room, he was fixing his hair so he put the comb down on the dresser and walked towards you..

"You don't have to apologise"

"I do..I keep snapping at you for no reason and it's not fair...I just forget at times that you're going through something as well and I'm..sorry " you mumbled softly so he smiled,

"I asked you a question during our stroll ..this time answer me truthfully.. Who's bothering you?" You sighed as he questioned you again, maybe sharing with him would feel better.

"It's just my ex..he keeps calling me" his brows furrowed as heard your response.

"That cheating arse?"

"Yup"

"What does he want?"

"Probably wants to get back together.. whatever..i don't even ..want to know" you shrugged as you crossed your arms together, even though deep down all you wanted to do was cry and then cry some more.

"Cheaters always cheat again.. remember that"

"Mmmhmmm ..he didn't just cheat though, he did something else too that i…" his jaw clenched and it wasn't unnoticed. What were you insinuating here? What did he do with you?

"What did he do darling?"

"It doesn't matter"

"It always does"

Your eyes teared up as you felt completely overwhelmed all of a sudden, maybe it was the concern he showed towards you that got you finally. You really weren't used to someone making you feel as if your issues mattered as well. You had the best life your parents could have given you, you were very privileged, never had to struggle for anything you wanted but that didn't mean you weren't hurt or used by other people or had your humanely emotions.

"Hey …come here" he grabbed you by the shoulders and pulled you into his chest, as soon as you felt his warm embrace you broke down in cries, you really needed a good cry but your mind has been so occupied lately with millions of conflicting feelings that you weren't allowing yourself to have a moment of weakness.

Gods you never wanted to leave how his arms felt around you ..so strong, so protective and so very warm.

"I just…feel so inadequate sometimes" you sobbed uncontrollably between your words so he cupped your cheeks and wiped your tears with his thumbs, you didn't want to look up, you felt afraid you'd do something stupid if you looked him in the eye..you were so close to him at the moment and you had a feeling that this was the extent of what you could get from him, there was a line that both of you couldn't have crossed..

"I know how that feels..i understand pixie..don't cry sweetheart, you're okay..I'll keep you safe..you just have to come to me" he mumbled softly as he kissed your forehead, your fingers clutched the fabric of his shirt, skin was tingling from head to toe and you wanted him to touch you in places he would never ever touch you that way.

"I'm sorry..I'm so sorry" you mumbled between your hiccups so he shook his head in response,

"Shhhhh..I'll take care of you..I'm here now"

He wrapped his arms around you again and caressed your back until your sobs had diminished.

Why did he have to be your dad's friend? Why couldn't he just be another guy? Those were the thoughts swirling around your head, if he wasn't so familial you'd have made your move and kissed him by now because you really wanted to. You really wanted to just get on your tiptoes and kiss him, and then do stuff with him that would make him see you differently, anything other than the daughter of his friend.

Once you had calmed down you pulled away and finally built the nerve to look at him, his expressions were soft, the problem was that even if he was seeing you differently now none of you could have crossed that line, you would remain forbidden to him and he was to you.

"Feeling better?" He asked you so you gave him a nod and a small smile,

"Are you sleepy?"

"I am tired"

"Then you should sleep.. uncle. I'll see you tomorrow"

"Okay.. sweetheart"

"Thank you for comforting me.. I needed that"

He nodded as you said that, as you left he closed the door and then stood there with his head resting on it for what felt like eternity. When he came back he just wanted to rebuild his life here again, he hadn't forgotten what had happened between him and his friend but he wanted to give that broken relationship a second chance since he gave her a countless chances but he wasn't ready to get caught up in this mess, he never saw this coming, He never thought he'd suddenly develop sexual feelings for his supposed niece. This wasn't supposed to happen and it never should have happened.

The sexual desire combined with the emotional attachment that he already had with you since you were a child made him feel perverse, and he was afraid the longer he stays around you the worse it will get for him.

Next day he didn't see you around the house since you were at work, when you came back you had Aemond by your side and he honestly didn't know how to feel about it, he fucked your best friend so there's no way he could have asked you to not date his nephew.

He watched you giggle and laugh at whatever unfunny jokes Aemond told you at the dinner table and he found himself feeling something he had not felt in a while, he was jealous. Jealous of his own nephew making his so-called niece laugh.

As Cassandra appeared suddenly he groaned internally but pretended as if he wasn't affected by her at all.

"Hey guyyysss" she giggled as she hugged you and then she hugged Aemond , he was a bit surprised but he reciprocated the hug, then she proceeded to greet your parents.

You had an empty chair right next to you but she walked around the table and sat down right next to Daemon. Daemon couldn't help but wonder if you felt jealous of the attention he had been giving to Cassandra?

"Hey Daemon" she mumbled as she looked at him so he gave her a smile. He didn't want to be unnecessarily rude to her if she wasn't acting like a psychopath.

"I can't say how happy I am that you both are dating" she raised her glass of wine to both so you shook your head immediately.

"We are not dating..just friends" you clarified as you felt everyone's eyes on you, especially Daemon's, you wanted to hide from his intense gaze. What was he thinking? It was so weird, when you both were talking to each other there was no awkwardness at all but as soon as you both were around other people you felt such tension between you both. The sort of tension that could resolve by ripping each other's clothes off.

Maybe you needed to go back to your place soon. The longer you'd stay here the more complicated things would become between you and him.

"Mmm well that's good because honestly it's kind of weird.. I mean Aemond is Daemon's nephew and you're like his niece so that would make you both like siblings " she giggled and you just wanted to smash your head against the table. To get away from Cassandra, daemon finished his dinner quickly and headed straight for his room..

"Babe let's have a girls night, i pinged the girls to come here" Cassandra jumped up and down as you both made your way upstairs to your room after seeing off Aemond, she was crying her eyes out yesterday so this sudden change in her demeanour was nice.

"Sure..I'll be right there ..I have to go see mum first" you told her so she went to your room and you went downstairs to your parents' bedroom first but they were not there so you headed towards your dad's office. Daemon was there as well ..they were deep in the discussion while your mum was on the couch reading her book.

Daemon looked at you for a second before he looked away almost immediately..

Your mother just wanted to talk about your day to day life so after chatting with her you mumbled a good night to everyone before you went back to your room.

Girls were already drinking and playing spin the bottle when you joined them.

You felt restless, your mind wasn't at peace, you had made it clear to Aemond that you weren't looking for a relationship or dating at the moment and he was more than decent about it. He was alright being just your friend, however that wasn't the only reason why you didn't want to date him. There was one other reason, a very tall, sexy and scrumptious reason.

"Yay ..y/n's turn" Donna yelped in excitement, making you snap out of your Daemon dreaming.

"Truth or dare?" Cassandra asked you knowing really well that you'd never pick anything but the truth.

"Truth of course"

"So predictable" other girls groaned in unison and it made you smile. Was lusting after your sworn uncle predictable?

"I have a question..why does daemon call you pixie..you never told me the story? He even got your number saved with that name..just curious babe"

Cassandra questioned you and as you recalled the memory it brought a smile on your face.

"Ummm well..when I was twelve I had just returned from the boarding school after years and gotten this very bad haircut due to peer pressure..you can guess which one. I was basically inconsolable because I missed my hair and the cut didn't really suit me" you chuckled before you continued "It didn't help that dad basically made fun of me and I saw mum laughing too but then they took me to go see uncle Daemon. I had never met him before, only saw him in pictures and stuff, but as we reached his home he noticed my sniffles and my tear soaked puffy face. He then bent down to my level and cupped my cheeks to tell me that i was his darling little pixie now and would remain one forever"

He had turned one of the worst days of your life into a sweet memory that you still cherished to this day.

As you finished your story there was a pin drop silence in the room for a good few seconds before they all cooed like birds together. The memory made you feel even more conflicted now, he was your uncle and he saw you as his niece, if there was that five percent chance that he felt attracted to you as well then this must have been ten times worse for him.

"That's so adorbs ..though I gotta say he's so handsome..bumped into him downstairs" Rochelle said to you but it was Cassandra who gave her the deathly glares,

"Eyes off him alright.. it's still complicated between us"

No it wasn't complicated, he was done with her but whatever made her sleep well at night you thought.

When the bottle spinned towards Cassandra, as a dare Donna asked him to go kiss Daemon.

"I don't think that's a good idea guys" you immediately interjected but you watched Cassandra upping from her place despite your resistance and she winked before she made her way out of the room.

Daemon was about to get in bed when he heard the knock on his door, at first he thought it must have been you but he saw Cassandra just in her nightwear, standing on his door with one of her hands resting on the doorframe and other one on her waist,

"What do you want, Cassandra?" he asked her in a no-nonsense tone, his voice didn't carry any emotions for the woman standing in front of him because he didn't have any.

"I just wanted to see how you were doing and wanted to apologise about my behaviour yesterday" she mumbled sweetly so he sighed, she was a vacational rebound for him and he didn't want to hurt her at all but she was just too similar to Stella and that was what had attracted him to her at first and then put him off later,

"Alright i appreciate that" he mumbled softly and he was about to close the door when she leaped towards him and wrapped her arms around his neck, before he knew she was kissing him in the ways that would turn on any warm blooded man, she wasn't capable of warming his heart but his cock was a different story.

It all happened so fast after that, he fucked her quickly and right against the door, unbeknownst to him, you had come to check up on him and perhaps save him from the situation if Cassandra would blow up again but the moment you heard the sound of her moans and groans, instead of going to your room where your friends were, you ran towards the guest room and then you cried your heart out.

For once you allowed yourself to feel hurt and jealous, hurt that he slept with her again even after he knew she was being unhinged about it, and jealous because it wasn't you he was fucking against the door.

Next morning Daemon woke up with regret, not only had he encouraged Cassandra by giving into her advances but he had a feeling he had disappointed you in plenty of ways and his suspicions were confirmed when you didn't even look at him even once when he met you during breakfast.

"That old man's dick is the best dick. Period" Cassandra mumbled excitedly so you gave her a fake smile in response,

"He's not that old you know"

"Well I'm not saying it as an insult..lord I think I'm falling for his sculpted ass"

Your smile faded as she said that, this thing was about to get messier because he couldn't keep it in his pants, all men were just cunt hungry whores. Your mum was so lucky she found someone like your dad.

It was Saturday and you didn't even have the luxury of getting engrossed in work today so you spent your day trying to avoid Daemon as much as you could. It wasn't fair to him you knew that, it shouldn't have mattered to you who he fucked or how many times but it did.

In the evening while you were napping clutching onto the plushie he had given you there was a knock on the door.

You were just hoping it wasn't Cassandra and luckily it wasn't..it was Daemon instead, he had a black silk shirt on that was loosely tucked in his fitted pants, your dad was taking him out to meet some of his business partners.

"Uncle.. What can I do for you?" You asked him so he smiled and walked closer to you until he was merely inches away from you, his cologne intoxicated you as he stood so close to you. You just wanted to kiss him.

"I know you're upset"

"Why would I be upset?" You mumbled, making him give you that infuriating smile.

"You shouldn't be..but you are..y/n..we are both adults here, yes? You're dating my nephew..i sleep with your best friend, that shouldn't cause any problems between us, I don't want that"

Now you wanted to punch him in the face and then kiss him.

"You're right.. the thing is your nephew won't come crying to you if we break up but my best friend does and then it becomes my problem yes, uncle?" You told him as you raised your voice a little so he tilted his head down and glared at you. You weren't intimidated by him. Not at all. Or Maybe you were, just a little.

"Then maybe you should choose your friends wisely"

Your eyes teared up as he said that so you looked down and he immediately wanted to take his words back "I came here to apologise darling..i didn't come here to upset you further"

"Then why are you doing that!?" Your voice choked as tears began to build up so he cupped your cheeks and kissed your forehead, no tears came out but you still felt the pads of his thumbs caressing your cheeks tenderly.

"Ask me to not sleep with her again, and I'd never touch her, if this thing bothers you so deeply then I'd never ever look at her again"

He whispered softly so you looked up at him, this was your chance to tell him that you didn't want him to sleep with her, in fact you didn't want him to sleep with anyone. But as you opened your mouth the truth just refused to come out.

"You can do whatever you want..uncle..it's not my place to ask you for such a thing. I'm just acting out because I feel overwhelmed by my privileged people problems"

He chuckled as you said that.

"At Least you're aware of that"

His fingers ruffled your hair before he kissed the top of your head and stepped away from you.

"Have fun" you told him so he nodded, he wished you had asked him to not touch Cassandra again and he'd have obliged, he cared about you and he didn't want you to feel upset by his actions or feel hurt in any ways. And there was a part of him that just wanted you to accept that you felt something more towards him, something more than just feelings you'd have for an uncle.

"Mister Daemon'" He turned around as you called for him, this was the first time you had taken his name since he had returned.

"I'm not dating or planning to date Aemond..i wouldn't want to do anything that would make you leave again for whatever reasons..i hope you feel the same way.. about staying here ..in London i mean"

You didn't ask him directly but you told him what he wanted to hear from you. You weren't going to date his nephew for his sake..So he had to cut Cassandra off completely.

He was ready for that, but then what? What would happen between you two then?

👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀👀🙃🙃

Taglist

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[nightxcreature]

See ya later. 👋

Summary: Reader and Team Freewill make their way to the apocalypse world and come face to face with someone they lost.

This is not based off of the post I made the other day, but it could technically be a tie in if I do a series.

pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader; Platonic!Cas x Reader, Platonic!Sam x Reader, Daughter!reader

Warnings: 18+, Language (reader likes to swear because so do I), slight dirty talk at one point if you squint, dead people, angst, angry dad for like two seconds, Cas feeling guilty for knowing something before everyone else, readers a big ole bitch about Jack

word count: 2492 (I busted my assssssssss, bro.)

Requests are open. 💕

The echoes from Kelly’s screams reverberated off the mountains surrounding the little cabin on the lake, sending those cries of pain and fear right back to us as if mother nature herself knew that Kelly Kline was bringing the worst of the worst right to her front door. Sitting helplessly listening to her pained wails feels like we’ve got a front row seat to the end of the world. Mary had gone to keep her company when we first arrived, but nothing she’s done has given Kelly a distraction from the child trying to rip its way out of her womb. Castiel continues to try and convince us that this baby will bring peace, but something that’s half of the biggest bad in history has no way of knowing a damn thing about peace.

                Another scream fills the house, and we all flinch. I can’t stay in here any longer, lifting my head from hands I turn to Sam, “Did you guys check the wards on the house? If we can’t move Kelly and Lucifer is headed this way, then we need to make sure that they’re strong enough stop him.”

                “Uh, no. No, not yet.” He whispers quietly, “You wanna check them?”

                I nod slightly and stand, glancing in Deans direction and pointing toward the door, “Wanna come with me?”

                He doesn’t answer, just stands, grabs my hand, and pulls me toward the door. As he reaches for the doorknob, Cas tries to interject, but just a second too late.

                “Cas,” Dean starts gruffly, pointing toward what looks like a big golden tear in the middle of the air, “What the hell is that?”

                Cas sighs and follows us out the door, Sam close behind him, “It’s a tear in space and time.”

                “Uh, and that means?” Dean questions, moving down the stairs to get a closer look. I stay close behind keeping a firm grip on his hand to yank him away in case something comes barreling out at us…or he gets the stupid idea to jump in.

                Cas steps in front of us to face the rift before stoically responding, “It’s a doorway to another world.”

                “Another world?” Sam questions, coming to stand on Dean’s other side to study the rift himself.

                Dean scoffs and looks at Cas in confusion, “What like Narnia?”

                Cas slowly turns to speak, “No. No, in there it’s Earth but…but different. It’s a…a alternate reality.”

                “Like that time we got zapped to another world and you were Polish.” Dean says with a chuckle and quick look toward Sam.

                “And you were on a soap opera, ‘Eric’.” I pipe in earning a grin from Sam.

                “Right,” He says quickly, “Cas, how did this get here?”

                Cas, who seemed utterly confused at our banter, stares back into the rift before he speaks, “The child being born, his power it seems to be puncturing the fabric of our universe.”

                “As if things weren’t already hectic enough with the kid and his psycho daddy, let’s just add in a portal to the multiverse, to keep things interesting.” I mutter, earning a disapproving look from Sam, “What? Am I wrong? Who knows what could come out of that thing! Thanos?”

                “The Brain Gremlin?” Dean adds.

                “The Brundlefly!”

                Dean nods in agreement, “Good pick.”

                “What exactly is on the other side, Cas?” Sam asks cautiously.

                “You don’t want to know.” Cas replies solemnly, continuing to stare into the abyss.

                We each glance at each other in silent communication, agreeing that there’s no way we can let this thing stay here without knowing what could come out of it. With our world already experiencing potentially the biggest bad that it’s ever known, we don’t need to add another to the mix. Sam and Dean nod to each other before Dean speaks up, “Probably. But we need to.”

                And without another word, Cas touches the portal and we’re whisked into the unknown.

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

                Immediately we land in the middle of what looks like a war zone. Bodies impaled on spikes taller than trees surround us, those not being used as shishkabobs are thrown haphazardly throughout the maze of destruction. Bright orange fire balls raining down from above and lightning flashes of bright crimson are the only color to be found in this place.

                “Whoa.” Sam breathes.

                “Cas, what is this?” Dean asks as we survey the area around us.

                “As I said, it’s Earth. But this Earth is locked in eternal war between Heaven and Hell. There are armies of angels fighting hordes of demons, and the few humans that remain are caught in between.” Cas begins to walk ahead, being careful to avoid the dead around us.

                “Humans? You mean there are people that are still kickin’ here?” I question as we follow behind him, making sure to step exactly where he did…just in case.

                Sam stops, “How do you know that?” He asks Cas, confusion littering his features.

                “A friend told me.”

A guilty look crosses Cas’ face as he glances in my direction, but just as quickly it’s gone. I make a mental note to question him about that later and look to Dean as he starts to speak.

“Oh, good. Now you’re making friends? That’s…” Irritation begins to creep up his face and he shakes his head, “Alright, on a scale of one to ten, how bad is this?”

Sam scoffs as he moves to look around even further, “I don’t know. I gotta say a, uh, hole in reality leading to a bombed out apocalypse world? I’m gonna say eleven.”

“Sounds right.”

Cas smiles softly, “You don’t have to worry. The child, he opened this door, I know he’ll close it.”

I laugh dryly, giving Cas a pointed look, “Yeah, Lucifer’s son, right? You sure about that?”

“I have faith.”

“Really? In your unborn baby-god?” Dean sarcastically quips.

“Yes.” Cas’ stern reply isn’t as effective in ending the conversation as it usually is, it just pisses me off.

“Well, then, you’re a dumbass.” I snap, “Lucifer has literally taken everything from us. He’s possessed Sam, tried to kill Dean, tortured me for days after he got out of the cage, and killed you and my dad before taking Sam to Hell! If you think for one second that this demon baby is gonna save the world, you’ve lost your damn mind. Everything that comes from that sorry, good for nothing idijit is pain, death, and destruction. I’m sorry, Cas, but you’re wrong about this.”

Cas’ frown deepened as he stared at me, guilt appearing on his face once more, “I’m sorry about your dad.”

Confusion colors my features and I choke out a quiet, “What?”

“Your dad. I’m sorry that he died.”

 “That was years ago, and you both came back the same day. There’s nothing to apologize for.” The guilty look remains on Cas’ face as I speak, so I add, “Seriously, if you’re gonna apologize for anything it should be for is believing in the Devil Spawn.”

“No, not that time.” He says sternly, “I’m sorry about Dick. I’m sorry that you never got the chance to say goodbye. I know you wish that you had.”

“This has nothing to do with-“ I start to respond, but am suddenly cut off by Sam yelling to get our attention. Yanking my pistol out of its holster and snapping my head in the direction of Sam’s stare, I notice a strange figure slowly walking toward us. Its head covered in a checkered hood, scarves around its neck….and a bulky tan jacket that I would recognize anywhere….

“Hey! Hey! Hands in the air!” Dean yells, raising his gun and preparing to take a shot.

Cas throws up an arm and pushes Dean’s hand down, “No, don’t.”

He looks at me again, the guilt from earlier crossing his face once more and then he nods. I can feel tears pricking my eyes as I take a small step forward meeting the figure as they finally reach us. He doesn’t move to remove the hood, but I know him all the same.

“Don’t shoot me, Old Man.” I whisper as I raise a hand to touch the jacket on his frame, “You had one of these where I’m from, too. The scarves are a new addition though, don’t think I ever saw you in that.”

He chuckles, and I feel the tears start to fall as I hear the voice of my childhood for the first time in five years, “Yeah, they’re itchy as all hell, too.” He says as he removes the scarf covering his face, “I hate the damn things.”

“Bobby?” I hear Sam’s reaction behind me, and I can only imagine the shock on Dean’s face, but I can’t make myself look away for even a second, afraid that if I do, he’ll disappear. His face is dirty, and his hair looks longer under his hat, but he doesn’t look much different than he did in our world. The bags under his eyes are the same, though I’m sure for a much darker reason here than they were back home. He’s talking to Sam, and I can vaguely understand that he has no clue who they are. My eyes widen and I look back toward the boys panicked. What if he doesn’t know me? What if I don’t exist here? Or worse, what if I do and he doesn’t know that I’m not his kid?

“Bobby, it’s us. Sam and Dean Winchester.” Dean explains, pointing between the two of them.

“You say that like it’s supposed to mean something, but…naw.” Bobby replies curtly, and turns back to me, “You alright, ‘Pea?” he asks softly.

I snap my gaze up to his face again, “You know me?”

He gives me a small smile and puts his hand on my shoulder, “I’d know you in any world, Chickpea.”

The tears freely flow down my cheeks as I reach up to touch the hand he placed on my shoulder, “You died in my world. And I didn’t even get to say good-bye.”

He sighs and looks down, “You died here, a couple years ago actually. I thought I would’ve eaten a bullet by now, but I got too many people relying on me. And you’d kick my ass in the afterlife if I did.”

I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me at that and I shake my head, “Morbid old man.”

Dean clears his throat awkwardly and takes a step to stand beside me, “Listen, I know you two need this reunion, and I want you to have it. But maybe we could address a few of the other pressing matters first, you know?” He says, pointing toward the bodies next to us.

“What do you want to know?” Bobby asks.

We spend the next several minutes discussing the ins and outs of his world and ours, and compared to his, we live the high life. This is a world in which Sam and Dean Winchester never existed, therefore the Battle of the Brothers did occur, Michael whooped Lucifers fiery ass, and humanity was fucked because of it.

“Damn,” I mutter to Dean, “I was hoping there was another you running around here somewhere.”

He leans down and grins, “I thought you were thankful there was only one of me?”

I shrug and turn my head to whisper in his ear, “Maybe I would’ve liked to experience two.”

We both grin at each other, but before he can respond we’re interrupted by someone loudly clearing their throat.

“Is what I have to say not important to the two of you?” Bobby barks, causing Dean to stand up straight and step away from me, “That’s right boy, you stay at least three feet away from her while you’re in my world or I’ll have you by the balls.”

I stare at Dean blankly, blinking a few times, “You’re thirty-seven, what are you doing?”

He shuffles his feet and looks down, “Sorry, must be PTSD or something…Haven’t heard him yell at me like that in a while.”

Sam pats his back and chuckles, “It was good seeing you, Bobby. Hopefully this won’t be the last time.”

“We’ll see.” He responds gruffly, grabbing my arm as we turned to go, “I know you’re not my kid, but you look like my kid and you sound like my kid, so I love you. Please be safe out there.”

“I love you, too. And I’m pretty sure I need to worry about you being here more than you need to worry about me over there.” I say as I point back to the rift, “Thank you for not shooting me earlier. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you did.”

“If it was anybody else, I would have. You’re lucky that you’re you,” He says with a smile, “I hope I get to see you again soon, Kid.”

“Me too.” I fight back the tears forming in my eyes, I know what’s coming and even though I’ve spent every day regretting missing my dad’s final moments, I still don’t think I’m ready for good-bye, “What if we don’t say bye? Just see you later.”

He smiles and nods, “Can I hug you?”

“Absolutely.”

He wraps his arms around me, and I can’t stop myself from sobbing into his chest. We stay like for a few minutes until I feel the boys eyes on my back. I sit up and grin at him, “See you later, Old Man.”

His eyes glisten as he rests a hand on my cheek, “See you later, Chickpea. I love ya.”

“You too.” I reply as I turn and step through the portal.

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

Dean has his arm wrapped around my shoulders and kisses the top of my head, “You okay?” he asks, leaning away just enough to see my face.

“That’s a loaded question.” I say with a smile, “But I think I will be.”

 He pulls me close and rests his chin on my head as he sighs, “Good, cause we’ve got a lot of work to do. Mad Max World over there is gonna need to be taken care of.”

“Yeah, but we’ve got problems of our own to take care of first. He’ll be fine.” I state as I lean into him. Looking back toward the rift, I make eye contact with Cas who smiles awkwardly. I grin back and mouth, “Thank you.” To which he gives a little nod before turning to go inside to check on Kelly; Sam, Dean, and I tagging close behind.

“Oh, come on!” Dean exclaims as we come face to face with the King of Hell.

“Hello, Boys.” Crowley gives a little wave with his bandaged hand and smirks.

“Wait,” Sam starts, “How the hell did you-“

“I improvised. And lucky I did, it turns out I’m the answer to all your problems.” He says with a nod to the rift.

                Looks like ‘later’ is coming a lot sooner than planned.

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

A/N: I hope you enjoyed! And, I also hope it makes sense that Cas was feeling guilty about seeing Bobby first, I'm not sure how that comes across. I did this on microsoft word and just pasted it here so i hope it shows up ok. As always, I'm brushing the dust off my fanfic writing skills so please show mercy. lol

Tags: @lmhf1

[pfangirl]

SAAMMM! Why we really should be excited for Season 2 of Tomb Raider: The Legend of Lara Croft

Honestly, as exciting as it’s been to learn that a second season of Netflix animated series Tomb Raider: The Legend of Lara Croft is on the cards; that it will in fact feature a team-up between former best friends archaeologist Lara Croft (voiced by Hayley Atwell) and documentary filmmaker Sam Nishimura (Karen Fukuhara); and that their pairing will revive the decade-old Salara/S.S. Endurance ship regardless of how things actually pan out romantically for the young women…

The greatest thrill actually stems from the fact that Season 2’s first promotional image reveals Lara and Sam glaring at each other. No grateful reunions shown, there’s clearly a lot of unresolved tension between the duo. And with a mountain of issues to scale, it feels safe to say that there’s going to be a lot of meaty emotional content paired with the show’s globe-trotting action. As in Season 1.

Before jumping into that, though, it’s worth remembering that Tomb Raider: The Legend of Lara Croft is playing fast and loose with the lore established in the games (if you take Roth’s revised depiction as an indication), and apparently acting like the tie-in comics and novelisations don’t exist at all. It’s therefore unclear how much of existing canon will filter through into Season 2.

That said, we can assume the former best friends aren’t on speaking terms – even if the series chooses to ignore Sam’s off-screen psychiatric hospitalisation twice(!) for Himiko possession, and a kidnapping or two.

Officially, if we stick to the games alone, we know that in Rise of the Tomb Raider, Sam wouldn’t talk to Lara even if her doctors would let her. By the time of Shadow of the Tomb Raider, Sam is communicating with Jonah again, but Lara simply wasn’t returning her calls. At a certain point after that, we can assume Sam gave up on reconnecting if Lara wasn’t making the effort from her side.

So yes, Sam Nishimura has every reason to be pissed, for two very good reasons.

Lara Croft is a terrible friend

The whole of Season 1 of Tomb Raider: The Legend of Lara Croft is Lara learning to get over her isolating tendencies; to treat the people who care about her with simple respect, like actually asking for help instead of treating it as a given, and communicating her actions instead of simply running out on people.

With Sam, the ghosting has been especially brutal because out of all the Endurance crew, Lara’s bff experienced the most trauma on Yamatai next to our title hero. Sam was betrayed by both Mathias and Whitman, set up to be burnt on the stake, violated by the invading soul of Himiko, killed cultists in self-defence, and before all that, she pulled strings (via her wealthy treasure-loving uncle) to fund the expedition when investors pulled out. Lara may have provided the directions to the island, but trust fund baby Sam made it happen, making her as culpable for the deaths and disaster as Lara.

The two friends could have found solace in their shared experience, but Lara is so wrapped up in her own guilt and pain that she never once asks Sam how she’s doing. As Reyes jeers back on Yamatai, “It’s always about Lara.” Back then, Sam instantly replied with a “That’s not fair,” but a few years down the line, that reaction is probably no longer the case. This after the pair were clearly each other’s biggest cheerleader, their ride or die, believing in each other and supporting each other’s dreams – typically when no one else did.

It’s notable in Tomb Raider: The Legend of Lara Croft that Lara reacts with especial prickliness when Jonah tells her to talk to Sam instead of using him as a message middleman. As soon as Sam’s name comes up, Lara immediately cuts off the conversation and closes her manor door. And when Lara briefly does calls Sam in the season, it’s solely for her own cathartic purposes. Again, there’s no asking how Sam is doing; it’s all about the “I” that is Lara. As a far more empathetic, less emotionally stunted person, it’s likely Sam will have picked up on the friendship imbalance. And, as a less easy-going and patient figure than Jonah, it’s not a stretch to say that her resentment has been quietly building towards Lara. For very good reason.

Sam isn’t a damsel in distress

This is the biggie. Sam clearly has a chip on her shoulder about being considered useless or inconsequential in comparison to Lara. While the topic is the source of her biggest argument with Lara in the Dark Horse comics – in the Queen of Serpents arc – it even surfaces briefly in the 2013 game when, before a mishap with a mounted machine rifle, Sam is in the process of explaining how Lara isn’t the only one who can be helpful.

The thing is, while Sam may label herself “a ditsy American troublemaker with a camera” in one of the 2013 game’s collectible documents, the reality is that she has kept pace with Lara Croft for years. As equals.

We should never forget that Sam and Lara had multiple “awesome adventures together” in their college years – backpacking, hiking, climbing and exploring the world. And as much as she’s shown enjoying the finer things in life, Sam is revealed to be as serious about work as she relishes play, having already filmed in some of the world’s most extreme environments, including the Arctic, Red Desert and volcanic regions. This attitude, in combination with her extroverted party girl nature, actually positions Sam closer to Classic Lara than the latest iteration of the character.

In 2013, Sam escapes the sinking S.S. Endurance on her own, and later steals a radio to communicate with Lara. In every one of her appearances in Tomb Raider media, barring the Ten Thousand Immortals novel, she’s proven to be driven, spirited, brave and resourceful, whether she’s fighting off an attacker with cupcakes, sassing her itchy-palmed kidnappers, defending herself against a shark, or stabbing herself to finally escape the presence of Himiko (all in the comics). That last one is especially important as Sam ultimately saved herself; not Lara.

Sam’s master improviser and problem solver status is even apparent in the first released image for Tomb Raider: The Legend of Lara Croft Season 2. While Lara is fully kitted out to face whatever is behind the door, Sam seems to be wielding an oversize lock or something similar. If Lara is Fred Astaire, Sam is Ginger Rogers because she does what Lara does… but essentially backwards.

As for why Sam is investigating the black market artefact trade, well, it could be to make a point to Lara, who has consistently sidelined her since Yamatai. Or, it could simply be that Sam is following a great story, in keeping with her professional ambitions; her own hunger for the truth – which once again mirrors her best friend’s primary drives.

As a side note, as we don't hear the conversation, we do maybe have to question if Sam actually called Lara in the final episode of the S1? Though it's likely it was Sam (reaching out to her previous savior in desperation, knotted up in complicated emotions regarding her own capabilities), it could also be a trick from a third party to get the brilliant archaeologist on the case.

Either way, given that Sam and Lara have a very different dynamic to Lara and Jonah, with the latter providing protection, reassurance and stability, Season 2 of The Legend of Lara Croft should have quite a different tone. Get the popcorn ready because if Season 1’s deep dive into Lara’s psychology was any indication, we’re going to get front row seats to the resurfacing of all of Lara and Sam’s resentments and other… pent-up feelings. Finally, after over a decade of dodging the issue.

We just have to keep fingers crossed that they’re both alive and reunited in some capacity at the end of it all. If Indiana Jones and Nathan Drake can have figures like Marion, Sallah, Elena and Sully backing them up in their adventures in various capacities, why can’t Lara Croft?

[fictionadventurer]

Fortnight of Books 2024: Day 4

Favorite author you discovered this year

Mary Elizabeth Braddon. Her Jane Austen-meets-Conan Doyle style is so fun! She's got the perfect blend of domesticity and mystery. Her descriptions are immersive while remaining readable. She's now my third-favorite Victorian author, behind Gaskell and Collins.

Technically, I had read The Christmas Hirelings, but I didn't discover it was by her until this year. Which I think still counts as discovering her.If that doesn't count, some other contenders are:

William Thackeray: I love a man who's having this much fun with his writing. He gets too mean and cynical, but it's because he's an idealist.

Margot Benary-Isbert: I loved the ability to highlight the everyday goodness and human emotions in bleak circumstances.

Margaret Oliphant: She has a compassion toward her characters that reminds me of Gaskell or Goudge.

Charlotte E. English: Unfortunately, her use of magic in Miss Landon and Aubranael goes just a bit beyond what I'm comfortable with, but I loved the storytelling style (especially the second-person interludes that probably inspired some things I wrote this year)

John Henry Newman: His style's too dense for my taste, but I also love his personality, his philosophy, and his sarcasm

Author you read the most in 2024?

Thanks to the Little House reread, it was once again Laura Ingalls Wilder, with seven. (Plus several other books related to the Little House series).

Second place is probably a tie between G.K. Chesterton and Elizabeth Gaskell, with five books each (though one of Gaskell's is a short story within a longer work.

[markantonys]

I'm curious how the show is gonna handle Rand's relationship with the Aiel. It should be very interesting. Bookwise he kinda rejects their culture/seeing himself as Aiel cause of him clinging to his old life. They might just frame it differently, maybe he just doesn't feel a right to it cause he wasn't raised Aiel. Overall it seems like the show might be going in the direction of people in general being more receptive to learning about Aiel culture over them just handwaving them away as weird (like Perrin's interactions with Avi when book Perrin wouldn't have done that). Maybe Rand is more willing to learn cause he wants to learn more about his birth parents

yeah i don't know what to expect in this regard! my only particular annoyance with aiel-culture-related stuff in the books is that the books would introduce something as culturally or thematically important, but then shuffle it aside once it became inconvenient to the plot. i.e:

the aiel are introduced as very anxious to tie rand to them so that he doesn't destroy them. but when later plot prevents rand from having aiel hanging around him, they stop hanging around him and aren't overly concerned about him ignoring them (bar complaints here and there, with little attempt to actually Do Anything to make him stop ignoring them).

avirand's relationship is introduced as a crucial binding cord between rand and the aiel and as significant to general aiel-wetland relations, but this is dropped once later plot prevents them from spending time together, and aviendha is never used as a mediator in rand-aiel conflicts when by all logic she should be since that was one of the main narrative purposes of their relationship upon introduction.

the maidens & wise ones are so concerned about keeping avirand together for binding cord reasons that they chase off any wetlander woman who tries to hit on him, but once RJ decided that a) he wanted min to hook up with rand without being obstructed by the aiel surrounding him and b) there would be no opportunity for her to become first-sisters with aviendha before doing so, then suddenly the maidens & wise ones are all about min and becoming top min/rand shippers and aviendha is saying it's totally fine to make an exception to the first-sister rule for min even though she is very adamant about upholding it for elayne. when by all logic, the maidens & wise ones should NOT be happy about another wetlander woman with no connection to aviendha trying to get with rand (they'd have no reason to think min is any different from isendre, cairhienin nobles, etc in this regard) and aviendha should be much more resistant to making exceptions to rules we've been told are hugely culturally significant to her.

so my one wish for all aiel-culture-related stuff in the show is that if the show introduces something as culturally or thematically important, it should commit to that importance for the rest of the series rather than sweeping it aside once it's no longer convenient to the plot. that doesn't mean rand/wetlander-aiel relations needs to be a major theme or plot point of every single season for the rest of the show, because ofc it should naturally fade more into the background as the story goes on and other things come up, but it's gotta be either a) rand is tied securely enough to the aiel by the time he has to go off and do other stuff that it makes sense they're not concerned about things like him ditching them and getting a new wetlander girlfriend, or b) if he's not tied securely enough, then make the aiel react accordingly and actually try to use aviendha to intervene with him on their behalf.

hopefully this ramble makes sense djkjfg and it didn't even end up having much to do with rand's personal attitudes towards aiel culture, so i got off topic a bit! but for me, i am good with whatever show!rand's personal attitude ends up being as long as things remain emotionally consistent throughout the course of the show.

[imfromthemiddlekingdom]

Felony saying that everyone in the universe can access the force if they tried hard enough makes me want to deck him in his fugly face

He’s ruining all established canon in real time. Speed running the absolute destruction of continuity of the SW universe and people are still rooting for him and his blorbo self inserts like there’s no tomorrow. Literally the whole reason I no longer engage in Ashoka content is because he massacred my girl and made her so one dimensional that my Mary Sue self insert fanfics OCs I wrote when I was 14 looks well developed compared to the absolute bland “girlboss kick ass take names” personality Ashoka has right now.

There were so many opportunities for him to explore the absolute potential of angst and conflict within Ashoka in this new series, to give her character a believable story of grief loss and growth yet he threw it all away because he wanted his OC to be the specialist girl that ever lived. This series could’ve been used to explore Ashokas conflicting feelings regarding the Anakin that taught her and was a mentor to her whilst trying to connect it to the monster that killed her family and hunted her culture into almost extinction and tried to kill her, a person he confessed to love as a sister, on Malachor. It could’ve been a good send off to a great character, to have her face that the Skyguy she put on a pedestal in her mind was in actuality the worst sort of scum and have her try to come to terms that just because she can forgive him for being the genocidal maniac he was and still hold love in her heart for who he used to be and also understand why the Jedi, her family, wasn’t the reason for their own downfall.

But alas. We got another series of “the Jedi caused their own downfall!!! Anakin did nothing wrong ever and him killing all my family and everyone I’ve ever known is so not his fault!!! It’s definitely the fault of the unbending stuck in the past council!!!”. Instead of a series that could’ve made Ashoka’s “departure” (literally never going to happen with felony at the helm, he’s going to find a way to make her immortal and then show up 200 years in the future to be the protagonist of another light v dark fight since she’s his special SI) from the series tie in nicely thematically and canonically with every other Star Wars media we have, he decided that the best way to have this series go down is 1) everyone is force sensitive if they tried hard enough ig and 2) the Jedi were bad!!! Their protocols don’t work! They were mean to my little meow meow Anakin Skywalker the greatest Jedi of all times™️ therefore he got to kill them all!!!!

Got a bit off topic but I’m still so mad that he had this chance to make Ashoka truly experience growth like the first 5 seasons of TCW yet he decided maintaining the badass rebel without a cause aesthetics for her was more important then good story telling.

Honestly though, my main problem with this series is that he decided that apparently everyone in the universe can be force sensitive if they “just tried hard enough”. Like your Midichlorian Count no longer matters since even if you were Force-Null you can still be special!!!!

This takes away any and all urgency in the Jedi Fallen Order games. It makes Cals journey absolutely redundant. It throws away all the tragedy contained in having inquisitors being force sensitive kids kidnapped from their parents and tortured till they give into the dark side. If all beings are able to use the force in his universe then there are no consequences to the inquisitors not finding the Holocron that holds the names to all force sensitive children in the universe. There would be no need to them to chase Cal and the Mantis Crew throughout the universe to obtain what they have. They could’ve just went down to any random level in Coruscant and take homeless Force-Null kids and train them.

Even better! It makes the entirety of the KOTOR games redundant!!!! Oh and I guess the hidden path is also redundant since everyone can be force sensitive and no one truly needs more saving from the empire over others :/ totally not like these kids that were saved by the path would’ve been taken and tortured into inquisitors, definitely not since EVERYONE is force sensitive nowadays or is it just the ones Ashoka trains herself because she’s the “living embodiment of the daughter uwu she’s so special and unique look how well she can train a non force sensitive to be force sensitive!!!”

Everyone in the Star Wars universe has Midichlorian’s in their blood. That is a fact. It is also an established fact that the amount each person has is different and is not determined nor dependent on lineage. Force-Nulls typically range in the 1000-3000 count and you need 7000 to be force sensitive and higher to be accepted into the order. (The order isn’t the end all be all of force cultures, Rouge One shows that Jedha’s force culture isn’t restricted to only force sensitives as the Guardian’s were never specified to be only a religious order of force sensitives. And high canon doesn’t depict many other force cultures but we know that there are many force cultures in the universe that co-exist with the Jedi with which the Jedi weren’t in opposition towards; literally not even the witches of Dathomir were oppositions anywhere outside of the battle fields.) You don’t need to be force sensitive to be part of a force culture (Jedha literally has pilgrims who come far and wide to make a pilgrimage to the holy site and not all of them were force sensitive), Sabine could’ve very easily been taught the tenets of the Jedi without retconning her to be force sensitive or making everyone in the universe force sensitive.

No where in either the EU or High Canon did anyone ever say that you have to be force sensitive to be a badass or to make a difference. Hera did not hold the title of the best pilot in the universe just for some rat of a man to come and say that Anakin was the best because *muh force sensitivity!!!!* Some of the most heroic and most influential (good or bad) people in the franchise are Force-Null! And that’s great! It means that the force doesn’t make anyone better than anyone else! It’s a quirk of the universe! To retcon that everyone can and is force sensitive if they tried hard enough is literally cheapening everything the franchise stands for. Andor did not literally give us an entire story about how Force-Nulls in the Galaxy makes just as much of a difference as force sensitives for felony to come out and say that “you know what??? Midichlorian’s are a scam! You get a force sensitivity! You get a force sensitivity! Everyone gets a force sensitivity!!!!”

Sabine was great as she was in rebels, why cheapen it with “oh she’s actually force sensitive all this time!!!” When we could’ve stuck with badass Force-Null Mandalorian can kick your ass five ways to Sunday with her paint bombs and blasters you force wielding asshole!!! Like why even do that felony. Do you want people to hate her??? Nvm ofc you do, you need Ashoka to be the best in every way possible even if it means ruining every other beloved character in this franchise👍

[pinehutch]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Spread the self-love ❤

Thank you for tagging me!

I should be honest: I am not much of a fic writer. This isn't self-effacing; I've been reading fic since the early aughts but only have 10 works on ao3. One of them is a poem. One of them is a few hundred words of something I've never finished.

That said, fic is important to me for a lot of reasons, but one is that in 2016 I started following a tumblr for a Dragon Age fic exchange, and in 2017 I wrote the first fiction I'd written in almost 20 years. I had been struggling to write poetry for about 10 years before that, too, and fic writing was part of my path back to writing at all.

This isn't to say that I think fanfic is valueless unless it results in 'original' writing; every story happens in context, and we all know how the lines between fanwork and original work blur, both in fan spaces and in commercial ones. But my particular, personal fondness for fic is because it gave me a path back to the first best thing of my life, which was language, and what we do with it.

With that said, my personal top five (links in titles):

Fundamental Forces (or, Root Causes)

Literally my first fic. This was when I remembered that writing can be fun. It's Dragon Age fic, femHawke/Varric. It's also written with a focus on Hawke's POV, a thing I think I pulled off quite well and have never attempted again. It's very silly. It features a 40-year-old and a 35-year-old being profoundly bad at emotional honesty. I riff on turnips for a while. It has a happy ending, which should surprise no one.

She breathed in through her nose and her eyes fluttered shut. “Kiss me, you idiot. Before they think I’m horrified.” Their first kiss. Quick and mostly chaste and part of a joke. She thought it was fitting.

Chapter Last

This is also T-rated Hawke/Varric, written for the same exchange, a year later. It's about near-misses, and trying again, and not being able to pick up where you left off, and it's stumbling back onto the path later, unexpectedly, and after having found another way. It is about stories, and why we do them.

It's fic of the games, of course, but in a way it's also fic-of-fic: there's a novella that's both a tie-in novel and a diegetic book in the Dragon Age setting, and it was printed irl the summer before I wrote this fic.

What I'm proud of, with this story, is character voice. Whenever I share any Varric-voice writing, even years later, people always say very generous things. Varric's also a writer, canonically, and I had fun mimicking 'his' style in passages of this, and trying to keep in mind how his writing and his inner narration would align and diverge. (Lots of Dragon Age fans are understandably thirsty about Varric; I think I've always found him relatable, in many ways, and it didn't occur to me to thirst. But I love him.)

I don't love the structure; I chaptered this, and way more than I needed to. I'd love to rewrite it, someday, but I also think it's good for me to sit with the awareness of its imperfections and the knowledge that people have loved it anyway.

Afterimage (there are two colours)

The Magnus Archives fic, E-rated. Basira/Daisy. This was meant to be a single installment in a series - I think I have a 20,000 word 'outline' in my gdocs, still, but I'm unlikely to ever finish it. The point of this story is self-indulgent, purple-prose, dreamy smut. Wanting the thing and having it, but not keeping it.

This was baby's first E-rated fic ever written. I have no explanation for this, either.

Transformative Work

Written for the 2022 OFMD Big Bang with @mia-ugly. Mostly Frenchie/Jim, a bit Jim/Oluwande, a bit Frenchie/Oluwande, a light sprinkling of polycule potential.

Transformative Work is my favourite thing I've posted to ao3 for three reasons.

It's 40k! I never finish longer works, so 40k is a big deal to me.

I think it's actually brilliant. Clever as hell, at minimum. But mostly brilliant.

It's collaborative!

Writing has always been a solitary thing for me; one of the things I love about Mia is how we can get on a wavelength about a story. (This is mostly a them trick: they're an excellent collaborator and instigator, in general.) I wasn't at my best when we were writing this, dealing with undiagnosed health issues and workplace burnout and an accumulation of grief, but it was beautiful and joyful work, in the end.

Also, I think it is almost exactly what we wanted it to be, and that is such a high.

Number 5 is a bit of a cop-out but still:

Remember when I said "we all know how the lines between fanwork and original work blur"? This is a poem I started writing when Succession 4.3, "Connor's Wedding" aired. I was in a worst spot than I had been the previous year, health-wise, grief-wise.

The title of this poem, "My Father's Dead and I Feel Old," comes out of Connor Roy's mouth in the episode. I had to pause the episode and just get pummeled by that perfect, simple line of iambs. I was a wreck, just generally. Yeah, man, my father is dead and I do feel old! That sort of thing. (The aforementioned health issue? Still not identified or addressed when this aired in spring 2023, btw. My brain was not braining well.)

But there were words for it. I was off work on medical leave at the time. I had just made the transition from crying like it was a full-time job to sleeping like it was a full-time job. The sleep wasn't helping. The crying hadn't helped, either. It wasn't something people could help. But words, and what we do with them - that helped.

Anyway, I'm actually quite proud of this poem, both as an original piece of poetry and as fanwork. It's not on ao3 for reasons including 'I haven't gotten around to it' and 'I don't know if this is sufficiently transformative, by the invisible guidelines I've just set for myself.'

Thank you for sending this to me, it was a lovely thing to think about on my Friday eve! <3

[tildeathiwillwrite]

Tag Game: Writeblr Interview

Thanks to @cowboybrunch for the tag, this looks fun!

Long post incoming.

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Short stories, novels, or poems?

I find I end up with novelette/novella-length stories more often than not. I've written plenty of one-shots and short stories for prompt events, and I like doing that especially when I'm doing fanfiction or nameless characters. When I write with ocs though I tend to stretch stuff out and what had originally started as a one-shot or short story ends up becoming a novella.

Don't get me wrong I have plenty of WIPs planned out to be novels (like Trials of the Six), but the first drafts of The Hunter, the Myth and the Cure and The Legend of Orian Goldeneye were both novella-length and will probably stay that way or end up being longer. My Hero x Villain series ended up being a novelette, so basically I can't plan for how long a story's gonna be lol.

I've written a little bit of poetry (heck, I wrote one for The Legend of Orian Goldeneye that may or may not get cut), but it's not my favorite thing to write because I way overthink things. But when I do compose poetry I usually do limericks.

What genre do you prefer reading?

Fantasy, no contest. And within fantasy, usually High Fantasy with a lightcore or hopecore focus. I read some gritty stuff, but I find they tend to have elements I don't really like more than the ones I do.

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

Both? I like having an idea of where the story's gonna go, and I plan that out either before writing or while writing, so I don't get stuck. But it's really loose and gives plenty of room for the characters to go feral. I'm in the middle, but I lean more panster than plotter.

What music do you listen to while writing?

Soundtracks, usually from videogames or movies. I really should start organizing my two writing playlists by vibes other than calming music and boss fight-type, but I'm pretty happy with how I have it now. I also have some seasonal aesthetic playlists which match the vibe of the current weather.

Field Music Playlist (calming background soundtracks)

Boss Fight Playlist (pump-up, more exciting soundtracks)

Seasonal Aesthetics: Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter

Favorite books/movies?

Oh goodness.

Uhhhh. UHHHHHHHHHHHHH.

My knee-jerk answer for favorite movie is and always will be The Princess Bride. But I also really like Back to the Future, The Martian, and Clue.

With books I tend to separate them into categories. For fantasy I would say it's a tie between Dragonlance: Dragons of Autumn Twilight by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, The Death Gate Cycle: Hand of Chaos by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman, Mistborn: The Final Empire by Brandon Sanderson, and Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynn Jones.

For sci-fi it's The Martian by Andy Weir, followed closely by Skyward by Brandon Sanderson.

My favorite classic is Little Women by Louisa May Alcott, followed by Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austin.

And for nonfiction I like Stuck by Justina Van Manen, The Healing Imperative by Mike Aquilina, and Beautiful Holiness by Kathleen Beckman.

And of course the Holy Bible and the Catechism of the Catholic Church.

Any current WIPs?

This post is getting long enough already, I talk about my WIPs here and they're all linked in my pinned post in one way or another.

Create a character description of yourself:

Quiet, and keeps to herself. Never without a book, never without a rosary. Her brown hair is long, reaching nearly past her waist, and often kept up in a ponytail or a braid. She dresses mostly in dark colors, black jeans or skirt and a shirt or blouse that is black, navy, or gray, but occasionally wears a bright shirt. She wears little to no makeup unless she feels like being extra fancy. She always has a ring on her right hand, and usually a bracelet that matches her outfit, both of which she fiddles with. Her friends are few but she loves them dearly, and they are often on her mind. Though she may be quiet most of the time, she never hesitates to speak up for what she believes in.

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Eh... not really. I know my own thoughts and experiences much better than those around me and I wouldn't wish a lot of the stuff I do to my characters on the people I know so it just feels kinda weird to me.

Are you kill happy with your characters?

I find I like to bring my characters to the brink of death and back again rather than just killing them unless I want to write about grief. I'm more kill happy with immortal characters for the same reason.

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Usually just water, but if I can get my favorite iced coffee drink than I'd be happy to drink that.

Slow or fast writer?

It varies depending on the amount of research I have to do in a scene, but I think I write pretty fast. I haven't measured my words-per-minute in a while but it was pretty good if I recall correctly.

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

I'd love to be a guide of some kind, part of the group enough that I won't get killed off. I'm pretty good with navigation and maps, and I'd like to have powers (minor ones, not overpowered) but that would depend on the fantasy world.

Most fav book cliche:

Scoundrel with a heart of gold. I eat that up like a starving woman. Han Solo, Mat Cauthon, Ifan Ben-Medz, etc. Draven Cozenson, Diana Ozborne and Korfel Domin are two oc examples.

Least favorite cliche:

Love triangles. Frustrates me to no end, especially how most of them are resolved and how they really only seem to drive wedges in the fandoms (Keeper of the Lost Cities fandom, I'm looking at you.) I have no love triangles in my stories and I never will. I have minimal romance anyway but in the two I got there is no competition.

Favorite scene to write?

*evil grin* Love writing the whump or hurt/comfort scenes, all my ocs get whumped in some form or another, and I have fun every single time.

Reason for writing?

Creative expression, love for my ocs, with a dash of "I maked these :D"

In all seriousness, it's a hobby that I love. It sparks joy and it's a craft that I continuously improve upon and the more I write the better I get at writing. I also occasionally fantasize about publishing one day and my books having fandoms of their own. Maybe that will happen someday.

----------

This was fun! Tagging @fourwingedwriter @phoenixradiant @thewritingautisticat @writingphoenix @somethingclevermahogony

@agirlandherquill @happypup-kitcat24 @imsoveryveryconfusedatlife @geode-crystal @pluttskutt and open tag! :D

Blank list under the cut:

Short stories, novels, or poems?

What genre do you prefer reading?

Are you a planner or a write as I go kind of person?

What music do you listen to while writing?

Favorite books/movies?

Any current WIPs?

Create a character description of yourself:

Do you like incorporating actual people you know into your writing?

Are you kill happy with your characters?

Coffee or Tea while writing?

Slow or fast writer?

If you were in a fantasy world, what would you be?

Most fav book cliche:

Least favorite cliche:

Favorite scene to write?

Reason for writing?

[pitroig]

Mrs. Maisel: it’s ok that you’re not perfect.

I can only describe the latest episode of The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel as charming and intelligent. I believe it has perfectly encapsulated, in its pacing, scene selection, and motifs, the reasons why this series will remain embroidered in our minds like a heart in bright red thread. Additionally, I think it manages to explain the storytelling of this season and tie up the loose ends we have seen in Midge's character over the past 8 episodes, which have angered a part of the audience.

And I think that all the explanations lie in those four minutes of monologue that she steals from Gordon Brown's pettiness, and with it, steals the spotlight from all the men who have taken it from her until now.

- Is Midge a "bad mother"? Probably. Very likely, in fact. This last episode shows us a Midge so focused on her success and career that she doesn't scold her children even when they have clearly done something very wrong (pretending to be sick and insulting their elders is wrong no matter how you look at it). In the monologue itself, she anticipates that her children will end up in therapy complaining about her, as we know actually happens, and she accepts it as part of the evolution of parent-child relationships. But even more revealing is the fact that she pretends to forget her children's names and then remembers them, ah, when the monologue is already over. - Is Midge a worse character for being a "bad mother"? No! On the contrary! I think it makes perfect sense in terms of character development because from the very beginning, all Midge wants is to be the center of attention. Fame. In the Catskills, always winning awards and competing. At her own wedding, giving a monologue. Maybe she never wanted to be a mother; what she wanted was to be herself. But what she was raised for was to be a good wife. Only when she sheds that burden, only when Abe sees her exactly as she is, does she understand that it's the layers of convention that have been dimming her shine. Midge loves an audience. When years later, she has a free Tuesday, and we hope she uses that Tuesday to tie up one of the loose ends: Will she go see her children? Grandchildren? Her parents' grave? Joel's grave? No. She wants to work. She needs the adrenaline rush of the show. She needs to be the center of attention. And there are only two people in the world who understand that. One is Susie. The other, of course, is Lenny Bruce.

- Lenny Bruce. I don't want to spoil the devastating opening scene or ruin the smile of the last scene they share together, but I'll comment that in the monologue, Midge says that dates, boyfriends, lovers become cannon fodder for the comedic. She does it with her own ex-husband, right in front of him, and she will do it later with other ex-husbands. But she never does it with Lenny Bruce because Lenny Bruce, the one she doesn't want to see when he's no longer himself, is the guiding star of Midge, and she will never, ever dare to touch him for fear of breaking him.

- So, does she love Lenny or does she love Joel? Despite the undeniable chemistry Midge and Lenny share, she can't love Lenny because, in human terms, there isn't much he can offer Midge. Joel, on the other hand, despite his many faults and fragile male ego, is still the guy who cares about Midge, and above all, the guy who always sees Midge as a shining star, always the center of attention in his life. And in the end, that's what she has always wanted, right? I think it's okay for Midge Maisel to be selfish, to lose focus, and to be clumsy when it comes to handling her ambitions and her life. We're all doing the best we can, and chances are, we're messing up all the time.  It isn’t a show about a woman who has it all. It is about a broken woman who has lost the only thing that gave her life a sense of purpose and identity. It was about another woman marginalized by societal norms, ignored and living in the shadows of sticky-floored bars. And how together, they found a safe space for them to be, their reason for being in comedy—not in motherhood, marriage, or a desk job—but in building this space, they broke all the codes and rules. 

No matter the cost.

*Please note that the term "bad mother" used here is loosely defined. I am referring to widely recognized social conventions regarding the expectations and stereotypes associated with motherhood.

[useless19]

I was kinda hoping for a junior birthday edition of days, i loved junior in this series? I thought you were hinting twards it to. Did you have ideas or was it just a way to reasure bowser that luigi would be back?

So was I! I made a space for it in my drafts doc and everything, but I couldn't figure out enough of a plot to hang it together. It might've been because by that point I was starting to wind down my writing in Days with an aim to finish the series off, or it could have been because it would've required a fairly heavy narrative switch and I was already struggling with Bowser's pov for Day 16.

Or it could've been that I didn't want to have to figure out what a spoilt 8-year-old Koopa prince's birthday presents were going to be!

It's Junior's birthday, so it's going to be the most coolest awesomest day of the entire year! -the planned summary

Like King Boo, I left myself the option of writing Junior's birthday just in case. I've honestly found this to be pretty useful for constructing the series as a whole. Things happen that the narrative doesn't show (Luigi thinks about taking Junior Lava Bubble fishing one time, but we never see that), and allowing myself the freedom of not having to write it meant that I managed to finish more other parts than I ever thought I would when starting.

Still, I know roughly where the characters are at on Day 51 (aka Junior's birthday), so let's have a look at them, shall we?

Luigi extends his visit so he leaves the day after Junior's birthday. It's much easier for him to agree to stay longer than it is for him to commit to a longer stay before he arrives. He gets comfortable where he is. He spent the previous day making sure Junior knew he was going to leave after his birthday so that he wouldn't have to keep reminding Junior on his birthday and bring the mood down. Luigi likes a good party and he doesn't have to be the centre of attention, so he has a great time.

Bowser likes a party even more than Luigi and his son is growing up so well. He's way more tolerant of destructive antics than most parents too (he's got minions to deal with mess and rebuilding). He also starts to realise some of Luigi's problems when it comes to visiting; ie that he's very suggestible. It's not an entirely conscious observation, but he's less worried when Luigi leaves and spends more than a week away, despite saying that he was only going for a week. There's always going to be some lag. Email updates help (even if the first one is from a long-suffering Mario).

(If anyone other than me did the maths and figured out that Luigi wouldn't actually be at Bowser's castle for Day 69, assuming a consistent week-in-the-Mushroom-Kingdom/week-in-Bowser's-castle, this is why. It's always a bit more than a week-long visit).

And, of course, Junior. He's more resilient than Bowser in the being abandoned department, though he's still a bratty kid who's used to having his own way. He's very determined to show Luigi every single last one of his presents so Luigi will know what he's missing out on if he goes ahead with his stupid leaving plan. Similarly, the Koopalings also get the full range, but they have to leave in dribs and drabs over the next week too.

I guess part of why I couldn't figure out a plot was because Junior is going to be getting more and more intense and overexcited as his birthday party goes on and that would narrow the focus too much to be interesting.

(Maybe the lesson here is that putting it in Junior's pov was a bad call and I should've been trying to see Luigi's thoughts on the whole thing).

I don't know what Luigi would get Junior. He'd probably play it safe and do some art supplies (which are fine, but nothing super exciting and he gets a bit miffed when Junior moves on fairly quickly). He also delivers a letter from Peach (which Junior initially dismisses as boring), with an invitation to a brand new tournament she's organising (I'd have just picked a random sport that's not a main Mario tie-in game, or maybe one of the less represented sports like one of the Olympic ones). Luigi can't remember speaking with her about that, but he must've said enough for her to do this. Junior's quite excited over this - it's his own invitation, not just his dad's!

I also imagine that Mario sends something, maybe food? Possibly a bunch of hot sauce bottles from the various places he's helped out (they won't stop sending them and, while he likes spicy food, he can't eat this much!)? He puts the same amount of effort into it as he would a nephew. Luigi's also surprised at this and has to deal with the (actually super obvious in hindsight) realisation that he's sort of on his way to becoming Junior's step-dad, not just a regular old babysitter.

(Yeah, this would've been a challenge to properly depict in Junior's pov. Possibly an interesting one though.)

It was definitely set up more as potential day for writing, but it was useful to help reassure Bowser once I'd added it.

[nerdieforpedro]

Do you know that hippo?

Part Three of the Rock & Doc Series

Tim Rockford x plus size OFC - Doc

Rating: Explicit for ending

This blog is for readers 18+ MDNI

Word Count: about 5.5k (things are moving along)

Summary: The engagement party of Doc and Kim's friend leads to some surprising discoveries. Gold it seems is Doc's color and keep an eye on those hippos. They've got major clues. Big things are happening at the precinct.

Warnings: disco, drinking, hippos, family dynamics, mutual pining, swooning, bad pranks, panic/anxiety, trench coat mention, blood, fatal injury, murder

Notes: We've got the more to the plot in this one! Keep an eye out for a mention of a Pedro character and the introduction of another. I've gotta thank @lady-bess (on Tumblr) for beta reading for me. Bouncing ideas off of @maggiemayhemnj always leads to good things. I hope everyone enjoys the twists. 😘

Main Masterlist/ Tim Rockford Masterlist / Rock & Doc Series

Saturday of the engagement party:

You already want to go home. You’ve just been dropped off by Tony, Kim’s beau of two years. She’s wearing a blonde wig, orange star shaped shades to match her orange strapless dress that she’s pulled up at least the fourth time after complaining that she doesn’t have enough to keep the dress up. The orange complements her mocha skin and since her dress is strapless, she was happy to show off her rose tattoo she had on her right shoulder.  The heels of her white thigh high boots click as you both make your way to the large double doors of your mutual friend’s home. Samantha had gotten engaged to some producer who was filthy rich or had enough money to rent a space like this. 

You didn’t need a wig. Your hair, when not slicked down with grease and tied with two different scrunchies, expands enough on its own to look like a seventies wig. It’s just not curly, your hair never did hold a curl to save its life. Kim thought it would be a good idea to pin a gold disco ball in your hair and wear tiny gold disco ball earrings to match. She also did your makeup which included gold eyeshadow, soft pink cheeks and a vibrant red lipstick. You wore a shimmering gold dress that tied behind your neck and had a gold chain that connected from the tie in the back down to where the dress hit your shoulder blades. The back of the dress was longer than the front with it hitting the back of your ankles. The front stopped mid-thigh and your gold bangles that donned both wrists jingled each time you attempted to pull it down. Thankfully, the dress wasn’t bunching anywhere that you felt. Kim told you to stop fiddling with it and to let the people see since you wouldn’t let your cherished detective see anything. You pinched her arm and the two of you bickered until you met the guests of honor. 

Sam and her producer fiance were happy that you came and that you brought gifts, though you weren’t sure if they really needed a stand mixer since you were sure Sam didn’t know how to boil water. Maybe the producer…whose name you did hear three times but it never stuck, cooked or baked. The party ended up being fun though, there was delicious food, excellent music and the other costumes were a sight to see. At one point there was a disco ball that came out of the ceiling and everyone did the electric slide. 

After the dancing when things took a weird turn, you stepped outside to get some fresh air. As the night went on, you started smelling weed and some other substances you usually tested for. You thought maybe you inhaled too much of the air inside but it called you miss a few times ... a man-sized hippo.

“Hey Miss! Lady! Ma’am!” The hippo keeps trying to get your attention and you scan the area to see if there's anyone else out here and if there’s anyone else they could be talking to. You see no one. Just you and this hippo, at least you can tell that it’s a costume. This has to mean you don’t have more than a contact high right? You’re just slightly dazed you hope.

“Yes sir? Or ma’am? How can I help you? I specialize in humans and not animals.” The hippo fails their arms and groans at your answer. You weren’t sure how else to put it without coming out and saying you’re an ME. You don’t know this hippo, they don't need to know that.

“You’re not too high right? I’m not an actual hippo. I need help getting this damn head off. You’re the first person I’ve seen who isn’t high as balls. Help a guy out, yeah?” You nod and watch as the hippo bends forward so you can reach the head. You pull and it comes off with some force with you stumbling back but thankfully not falling. The owner of the hippo head has fluffy brown hair and is shaking his head. “That feels so much better! Thanks! Fresh air! I missed it!” He has a beard that’s patchy but it doesn't quite have the gray that you like. He looks like he could be Tim’s younger cousin. The mischievous grin is one you’re sure you’d never see of the detective’s face though. 

“You look familiar. Do you know-”

“Now just because you helped me get this head off, doesn’t mean I’m going to give you an autograph. You seem nice but you gotta pay for those. I have back taxes.” You cackle at the last part of his sentence and he raises an eyebrow. “That's not funny. It’s why I have a new manager and accountant. I hated that my damn brother was right. He’s always right, damn perfectionist. Like his shit doesn’t stink sometimes. That’s why his wife left and all he has is murder. Whatever lady.” 

“No, no. I was going to ask if you knew a homicide detective, you look like him. A lot. I work with him so I was curious.”

The Tim-look-alike runs his eyes up and down, a fuzzy mitt on his chin. He seems to be thinking something, you're not exactly sure what. Some people just look like others and they’re not related. You could be wrong.

You adjust your glasses nervously and he points at them. “They’re blue! He mentioned a woman with blue glasses! So you’re her…he’s mentioned you quite a bit. You do the autopsies right…medical…specialist…something like that? Mentioned something about pens and menus. I didn’t really get that part.” You close your eyes. He told someone about the pens? Who was this guy? “You’re sexy. My brother’s an idiot or maybe he’s not. He loves his job too much is the damn problem. You’re already a lot nicer than his ex-wife, you single pretty lady?” 

Blinking is your initial reaction. So this man…is Tim’s brother?! Your hunch was correct and he was related. You were thinking of a cousin maybe but not his brother. “Did you just ask if I was single? You’re wearing a hippo costume and couldn’t get out of it.” Your hands are raised like you’re pushing away the very idea of him hitting on you. The man in the hippo is not amused.

“That was a design flaw in the costume. Wait, I’m Dieter Bravo, I don’t need to explain myself. I see why he likes you, the sense of humor matches up. If you’d ever like to get to know the more fun of the two Rockford brothers, you should look me up. But definitely watch my movies, I need those royalties. I might paint about what happened here tonight. Thanks again sexy MD. My brother is a bit of a stick in the mud, but he is very nice to the ladies. Wait, what’s your name?” A fuzzy arm wraps around your shoulder and it’s not bad considering the cool night air. You tell Dieter and he comments that it’s sexy for a sexy lady. Your eyes roll as the pair of you decide to head inside where there’s heat and grab some punch. It’s warming you both from the inside out. Dieter and you chat about Tim and Dieter’s lives when they were both younger. Dieter took to the arts early while Tim focused on police work like their dad. 

A fun fact you did learn about Tim: he enjoys photography. 

Dieter explained it’s a hobby he enjoys because he can’t paint like he can. But he also admits that if his brother wanted to, he could have been a photo-journalist, but the call of shield was too great and it went on the backburner. Apparently one of the many reasons Tim and his ex-wife split was due to him wanting to make one of the half baths into a darkroom and expand it a bit. Bravo also informed Doc that his ex-wife was about as fun as putting on a wet blanket while you watch grass grow on a cool spring morning. That made Doc give Dieter a solid belly laugh.

You mentioned that you’d heard rumors of how this woman was but never really asked about her directly to Tim or anyone else. Bravo shrugged and sipped his punch taking stock of what you’re saying. It appears you don’t just like his brother but you respect him by leaving his personal business alone. As smart as he knows his brother is, he’s kind of an idiot. The fact that he knows something his brother doesn’t is a wonderful feeling. Bravo will make sure to remember this.

Dieter explains that he took his passion for art from their mom. She also taught English part time and loved Greek mythology especially which led to his legal first name. He didn’t believe it fit him until he became older and really leaned into the latter part of the Greek god of wine and revelry’s purpose. 

“I’ll tell you pretty lady if you agree to do something fun.”

You squint your eyes at the younger Rockford brother. “What do you consider fun for me?”

“I think you should send Tim a picture of yourself in your outfit. Show him what he’s missing out on by sitting at home in his boxers or sleeping in his office gazing lovingly at his murder board.” This elicited you to choke on your punch and put a hand to your chest.

“I-I- who is that fun for exactly?! What is wrong with everyone this week?!” Knocking back the rest of your drink and pouring yourself more, you’re holding onto the table to keep yourself upright. “First the damn notebook, a bone song, now I find out and meet…”

“Name’s Dieter. Don’t say my real name.”

“Tim’s brother Dion and now you’re telling me to…to…why won’t anyone just let me fantasize?!” You take out your phone and shakily text Kim but she isn’t answering. You want to leave. NOW. Dieter pats your shoulder.

“Hay calm down. I dunno what set you off, but I was half joking. I think you might wanna call someone to take you home. You’re a bit too drunk.” He suggests as he guides you to a quieter room with a couch. You’re able to sit down and call Kim but she’s still not answering. You lean your head back on the soft fabric of the couch and close your eyes. Who else could you call? Just an Uber? No…you’re not alert enough for that. You could doze off at any moment. Alcohol tends to make you sleepy. Your phone slips out of your hand and Dieter grabs it before it falls on the floor. 

Bravo has a bad idea. A very bad idea and maybe a bit mean. He texts Kim who has sent four texts asking where Doc was, that she’s okay and she had liquid courage to call Tim. He’s going to pick her up. Kim then sent various emojis with eggplants, bones, water drops and peaches. The second part of his plan had Bravo texting Tim from his phone that:

Hey bro, I met a very nice lady, maybe a few years older than me. She seems a little shy but the punch is very good. She might want to hang out a bit more after a Power Nap. She’s got some full lips and thick thighs, who knows? She might make a pretty third wife, third time's the charm after all.

Dieter snapped a picture of a dozing Doc and sent it to Tim. He waited. Maybe the text was a bit over the top but based on her outburst, his older brother has likely been a huge closed off idiot. Sadly he’s been like that since he divorced his ex-wife, he should have put more laxative in that woman’s coffee the one time he made it for her. 

Rockford was in his office finishing up reports. Did he want to be? No. But it was this or do it Monday and Mondays sucked enough without extra paperwork. Plus he didn’t have anything else going on, only that his small black notebook was missing. He’d turned his trench coat inside and out three times and searched his desk, office, car and where he thought it might be in his house. He was going to do another sweep of the office before he left tonight.

His phone lit up but he paid it no mind and kept typing, putting the finishing touches on the fourth report of the night. A small smile crossed his face when he saw Doc’s name for the autopsy of the victim. His mind is drifting to thoughts of you again. He remembers meeting you when you first came. Hands cup the back of his head as he leans back in his chair. Tim’s eyes drift to his murder board and his ear itches. That’s odd. 

He hadn’t been sure about getting a new medical examiner three years ago after Old Loaf, the previous ME had retired. His nickname came from his van which he put bread stickers on (not ever the identifying ME logo though) and he usually played classic rock and his favorite artist was Meat Loaf. Weird man, but ME’s usually are. When Doc arrived, it was an adjustment. The precinct had been used to that old bread van riding around and arriving to crime scenes. When Doc started she was first confused for an intern and not the new medical examiner, to be fair, they weren’t told anything about gender or appearance. But they could have at least asked, Tim happened to hear about Doc from the Captain and his wife over dinner. They had him for dinner from the times he used to double date with them along with his then wife.

Tim interceded between a senior detective and Doc because he kept calling her ‘young lady’ and Rockford could tell with Doc’s hands on her hips and her in his face, something was going to happen. He was pretty confident it would be the senior detective hitting the pavement as she wasn’t budging an inch. Slowly she started winning over the officers with her humor and knowledge, she even kept the loaves on the ME van and added stars, a mermaid and a catfish decal to it as well. They enjoyed the new flair of the van.

Rockford had thought her to be confrontational from her interaction out in the field but quickly grew accustomed to spending extra time in the autopsy room and office. Asking her questions, bouncing ideas off of her and at times, watching her work gathering evidence in the field and her lab. Tim had long reasoned that he spent time with Doc because of work. Over the years they worked together, however, he denied that their relationship was changing. 

They’re colleagues obviously, but he knows the times you’re most likely to be in your office, learning about your music, trying to make you laugh, maybe doing a quick check of a few databases to see if you had any skeletons in your closet. There was some threat you made against your medical preceptor which is why he knew the detective was in more danger than you were. That didn’t bother Tim though, he can have a violent streak in him too if pushed. It was comforting that you’d understand some of the darkness even if it wasn’t quite in the same context. The pen thefts were weird but he enjoyed your eyes on him, watching him to see how he’d react. Now you’re in his car half the nights a week and he should ask you on a proper date but… you seem wary of him and not in the same way he is of you. Rockford could be reading into it too much, he tends to do that a lot more now. Maybe you’re actually wary of him in the same way? He could review his notes he took if he could find his damn black book.

“Rockford! What the hell are you still doing here? Go home!” Tim sits up and looks in his doorway. His balding Captain is there with his crooked toupee. He should just shave it off. Now that he thinks of it, he could dress up like Kojak. His wife would need to pick out his suits though, the Captain puts too many patterns together. The man is wearing a zebra print button-down, red pinstripe pants and a yellow tie. That’s what the Captain wears when not in uniform. His wife might be helping her sister with her baby again, he clearly picked his own clothes again. Tim finds himself thankful that he can match his own clothes without help.

“Sir, I’m almost done with some reports. Didn’t want to leave them for Monday.” Rockford responds. He picks up his phone to snap a quick picture of the Captain’s outfit, knowing Doc’s eyes would go wide before ending up face down on her desk in tears from laughing so hard. Tim swallowed. A quick flash of another thought flashed in his head of Doc face down in an entirely different situation. “Shit.” He muttered. The Captain nodded and left as Rockford saw some text messages from someone he didn’t expect. “He better not be asking me to stream any more of his movies. I’ve seen all of them three times. I told you to fire those two con-artists….” Rockford has finally opened his messages and it didn’t have to do with any movies.

Tim’s eyebrows shot up his forehead. He called his brother, seething and confused. When Dieter answered, he didn’t allow him to speak. “You tell me right now where Doc is. What the hell have you done…” The detective growled, making Dieter reconsider his plan. He knew Tim might be mad but had only heard that tone come out when he broke a guy’s arm for stalking Dieter early in his acting career before he blew up and thankfully before Tim graduated the police academy.

“Now see…what had happened was…I had a bad idea. Which I realize the full extent of now.” Bravo paused. “Your lady friend is fine. It seems she’s a sleepy drunk. I was going to poke fun at you but you’re clearly not in the mood-,”

“Dion. Stop. The. Bullshit.” Tim stated each word in the same simmering tone. He shut down his computer, put on his coat, and headed for the door to his office. “Address. Now.”

“Ahh…Okay let me just ask someone real quick. I was dropped off, you know.”

“Two minutes Dion.” 

“Yup. On it.” Dieter is fully aware that per his request Tim calls him Dieter even when it’s just the two of them. The last time Tim called Dieter ‘Dion,’ he may have had one dumpster full of compost dumped on Tim’s ex-wife’s lawn. It was a gift since she liked to garden and constantly prune his brother’s dreams. His card had said so. Tim did not appreciate the gesture at the time. He did later though.

Bravo sent Tim the address and he plugged it into his phone. He knew the neighborhood, on the richer side of the county. Why was she there? How did she meet his brother? Why is she drunk? Now he knows she’s a sleepy drunk, and that picture… He’d seen it. How could Tim not think about it, sure she was asleep but she looked radiant in the gold against her skin. It would be a lot better with one of his cameras he had at home instead a stupid phone camera. Not now Tim you need to drive. Dieter can barely care for himself, how is he going to look after Doc? He can’t fight at all, no matter how the stunt team tried to work with him. Let’s just hope she’s only drunk. What kind of party would she go to where he would be there too?

Your head is spinning a bit but you see the fluffy hair and the hippo suit. You’re sitting…that’s right! You fell asleep. With all these people, at a party. 

“I'm an idiot.” You groan sitting your head up, your body still feels heavy.

“Sleeping beauty is awake, your trench coat knight is coming. Could you tell him not to maim or murder me? Please? I gotta go to Milan to meet this screenwriter who might be able to get me in a Nic Cage movie he’s doing. It helps if I’m not dead.” Dieter gives you very pathetic looking eyes, but you’re not sure why.

“I don’t know who my knight is. What did you do?” You’re not entirely sure what Dieter is talking about. The room is still spinning a bit. You’ve sat up but you’ve hung your head to help with the dizziness.

“Why did I have to do something? You don’t even know me Doc.”

“Doc? You don’t call me that. It doesn’t sound right.” Your entire face contorts and Dieter holds his arms out whining.

“Tim calls you that. That’s your title, you’re a doctor. Or is it like a weird pet name between you two? I’m gonna ask him when he gets here. If he doesn’t harm me.” You pay no attention to his head tilt. Your body goes rigid, you’re hoping Dieter is just talking out of his ass.

“Wait…Tim is coming here? No, no, no,no,no!! What did you do? You insane weirdo hippo! Why haven’t you taken that off? You’re wearing something under that right? You’re not one of those….I mean. I’m not into it, but you do you Dieter.” Your surprise masks your panic for a few moments before it returns and to shoot to your feet. “Forget that, I’m not…I can’t see him like this. This isn’t…wait there hasn’t been a murder here has there?” A second wave of panic sets in, if Tim is coming here, there’s been a murder. You’re at a scene of a murder while drunk, wearing less clothes then you might wear to bed most nights and you’d have to explain not only to Rockford but the other detectives and officers why you’re here. Not a bad reason, but they don’t need to see you dressed like this. You’ve finally got everyone to call you ‘Doctor’ or ‘Miss Doc’ instead of ‘young lady.’ They’d never let you live this down.

Bravo rocks himself up off the couch and places his hands on your shoulders. You can’t take him seriously in that hippo suit.  “You spun pretty fast. I sent him a picture of you while you were dozing and he’s coming to pick you up. Your friend Kim knows you’re going with him. He’s not happy that I took a picture of you so could you just, make sure I live? I mean think of it as doing your brother-in-law a solid.” You’ve closed your eyes while he’s talking and are shaking your head. 

“This is…a nightmare…a damn nightmare…” You start laughing at the absurdity of it all. You almost wish Kim was here to sing her bone song and it would be a perfect nightmare. Dieter mentions that you should meet Tim out front, that way he won’t need to look for you and it may earn him a point or two. He also put the hippo head back on. If all else fails, he tells you to pretend to not know him as a hippo and he’ll just watch and then waddle away. You decide it doesn’t matter what Dieter decides to do, this is going to be so weird. 

On his way out, Tim went down to Doc’s office where he got a spare key from the maintenance guy Joe six months ago. He had told him at the time it was for when Doc was off and that had a sub-ME come in who he had to double check behind. Or course, that’s not at all what Tim does, but Joe bought it because like his younger brother, Tim might be able to pull off some acting when he needs to. Based on what she was wearing, she needed something to put over herself. It’s way too cool for her not to and despite the alcohol she drank, she’d feel it when she got a cold later. On the drive over, he tried to plan what he would say, sure he was pissed at Dieter and he’d yell at him later about that. Would Doc be weirded out that he’s coming to pick her up? Should he have called Kim? She's Doc's friend but he can’t stand her. Kim’s good at her job and keeps things organized, but she’s a damn…well he wouldn’t say block. Just, she always interrupts with that smug look like she knows how he feels about Doc and makes little comments. Doc’s oblivious but eventually with enough of Kim’s words, she’ll understand that he likes her as more than a work friend. He’s sure he can’t have that conversation with her, especially if she didn’t feel the same.

Dieter leads Doc through the house, getting lost in a few rooms before they finally reach the main entrance. In full hippo costume, Bravo waits near the double doors, just in case Tim comes at him, he can hide behind one. He knows the stairs will slow him down. Doc stands in front of the stairs and holds her breath as she sees the brown Crown Victoria she consumes large amounts of Chinese food in pulls to a stop next to her. She walks toward the passenger side door, but Tim puts down the window. “Hey Tim.” Your voice is hushed. 

“Wait. Don’t get in yet.” Something unexpected happens. It’s not that he gets out and opens the door for you or even that he has your lab coat, though you are curious how he has it since you lock your office before you leave every night. Tim says your name softly before helping you put your arms through the sleeves and he pulls on the collar so it’s a bit snug around your neck and by extension your chest. You’re left to look up at the man you’ve admired for the past few years, the same one you keep lying to yourself that it’s only admiration you feel for him. 

“Tim…I’m sorry you had to come. I-I’m not usually… Thanks for coming. And don’t kill Dieter, just rough him up a little.” You give him a weak smile, you’re ecstatic that he’s driving out to pick you up, but feel horrible that you’re hungover and in a flashy gold skimpy disco dress when you see your detective outside of work. You wanted to have seen him in a more elegant outfit or at least something that didn’t have all your thighs and breasts out. Why couldn’t you have heard him say you name over a nice dinner? Hell even some Chinese food in your office would have been better than this, you’ve got the beginnings of a hangover and it’s not how you wanted Tim to see you outside of work. You’re not sloppy, messy and a tad obsessive sure, but not sloppy.

“Don’t apologize Doc. You’re entitled to fun after-hours. Just keep it safer next time. I was worried.” Rockford tells you quietly. His hands are still on your collar and run down to pull the lab coat snug around your middle which you flinch from his knuckles grazing your stomach. He calls your name again in the same soft tone as he smiles, “I’ve got one too. Not as soft as yours, mine’s a hard spare tire. Um…” Tim realizes he may have said something odd. He shouldn’t be referencing your body in any way but he has now. He feels like he put his own foot in his mouth, it’s not what he meant to say. “I..the gold looks perfect on you.” Rockford is making an effort to focus on your face, but his eyes drift to your lips, a bright shade of pink and even though he’s pulled your collar tight, he can still see your cleavage. There was more of it than he assumed was under those scrubs of yours. “I didn’t mean to mention…You’re a beautiful woman. You look good in anything, let’s get you home.” 

If you could melt and fade away you would, where is this tender side of Tim Rockford coming from? Is it from pity? You could care less. It’s clear that he was looking at you, seeing past your usual scrubs, his eyes had scanned your form. Maybe this outfit wasn’t as bad as you thought and he’s seeing a fair bit of the goods as Kim would put it. Tim’s staring at them in fact after calling you beautiful. Does he… Is he attracted to me? I don’t think I ever thought this far ahead…dammit I’m thinking of that stupid bone song again. But I mean…

As Tim motions his hand for you to get in the car, the hippo who supposedly was worried about life and limb has a sudden outburst, “For the love of..?! What is this? You suck Tim!” A waddling hippo is coming toward the both of you continuing to berate his brother, “You’re going to do all that with her coat you damn tease? You didn’t even hug her or kiss her! No wonder Doc drank so much punch!” Dieter then turns to you, his large stuffed head bobbing about. “Is this how he is all the time?! I thought maybe you were being dramatic but I see you weren’t. This is swoon-worthy but you need to make it count big bro. Like she’s right here!” He points his gray mitts at you, your face feels like someone has put it under a lamp and it’s burning. 

“Dieter, Shut up! Now!” You scream and get in the car, slamming the door. “Tim, we should go. Take me home please.” You’re mortified looking straight ahead in the car, hoping that he won’t ask. Tim’s a detective, of course he’s going to ask. What will you tell him? He ruined the moment…can I get another take without the damn hippo?!

Rockford shakes his head and pushes Dieter’s hippos head enough so he stumbles back but doesn’t fall. “Go back to the party, dumbass. This isn’t one of your movies.”

Dieter regains his footing and yells at Tim as he gets in his car, “You’re right it’s not! In one of my movies, she’d be a lot more satisfied than she is right now!” Tim flips the bird toward Dieter out of his driver side window and over the hood of his car. 

As Tim drives off he sighs and turns on the radio. He has questions, but knows you're way too uncomfortable to answer any of them now. ‘I’m In Love’ by Evelyn “Champagne” King plays and Tim mumbles under his breath, “Of all the times…” Any other time I’d enjoy this song. It’s way too on the nose.

“Tim, I don't want to go home.” You’re watching the houses pass by as you speak. It could be the rum you drank, the fact that you spoke at length with a hippo who said he’s your ‘brother in law’ or that you’re now aware of how Tim sees you, at least in this outfit. “Can we stop and get something to eat? To soak up the alcohol, unless you’re not hungry?”

Rockford squeezes the steering wheel tighter, “Yeah we can. You feel up to talking while we eat at the usual place or you have somewhere else you want to Doc?” He’s keeping his eyes forward. If he looks over, his eyes will linger again and he needs to focus on driving. Supposedly. 

“Where we can get a burger and milkshake.” Is your request and Tim agrees, making a few turns toward the diner you’ve both talked about going to but haven’t been yet. It was supposed be for when another big homicide case came through but, well this could be considered a large case of a different nature. 

Back at the precinct, there are a few officers on the night watch milling about and taking calls. Things are calm, they’re looking forward to eight in the morning when their shift will end. One officer notices that the mascot for their precinct, ‘Sergeant Roderick Hipops’ named and gifted to the station by the Captain’s daughter when she was four, isn’t on the podium in the command room where the Captain will give updates and assign cases for the day. A couple of the officers decide to track the hippo down so they won’t be the ones that lost it. Their search leads them to the corridor outside of the morgue, where they find Sergeant Hipops, but he’s dipped in red paint. He’s wearing a navy police coat and a small hat in his permanent seated position. One officer points out that it’s too thick to be paint, it’s blood. Their search expands and crimson drops on the floor lead them to the morgue, where they discover a body.

Stevenson, Detective Tim Rockford’s partner, had a gunshot wound in the middle of his forehead on the slab where Doc normally performs her autopsies.

Part Two Part Four

Peeps who would let Tim take their photo 📸: @alltheglitterandtheroar @sin-djarin @morallyinept @yorksgirl @bitchwitch1981 @heareball @megamindsecretlair @angelofsmalldeath-codeine @magpiepills @yorksgirl @mysterious-moonstruck-musings @avastrasposts @clawdee @pascalsanctuary @readingiskeepingmegoing @rhoorl @inept-the-magnificent @pamasaur @agentjackdaniels @pedroshotwifey @tinytinymenace @anoverwhelmingdin

[letstalkassassinscreed]

Book Review - Assassin's Creed Daughter of No One

In this spoiler-free written review, co-host Declan gives his thoughts on the new Assassin's Creed novel Daughter of No One, written by Maria Lewis:

Before I start this spoiler-free review, I want to thank Aconyte Books and NetGalley for allowing me to read the book's review copy. Daughter of No One is due to be published around November 7th 2023, plenty of time to finish Mirage before you dive into this essential piece of reading.

Daughter of No One is an intriguing story filled with love, loss and deceit; your typical Assassin's Creed formula. However, continuing the recent trend of transmedia published by Aconyte Books, this story has enough new flair and take on the formula that it can draw you in and keep you invested from start to finish. This isn't an exaggeration. The start of the book throws you right into the deep end, and throughout the first chapter the author has managed to paint a vivid picture of the world that Roshan lives in. 

The book is also unique in the fact that it not only wants to give the reader a deeper understanding of all the trials and tribulations Roshan has faced, but also the current dilemma that has drawn her into the hidden conflict of the Hidden Ones. The way the author manages this was very clever. Instead of creating a single narrative that runs from 824CE, there is a second narrative that exists through a jump back in time to 819CE. The chapters flit between 819 and 824. What is interesting is that each time the author jumps back in time she also moves the past narrative forward, so that this past narrative from 819 to 824 ends just before the main narrative set in 824 begins in chapter 1, creating a very satisfying loop. By doing the story this way she can push the main 824 stories ahead with small callbacks to the past. To me this gave the author more room to play around with the main narrative without any worries that they had missed any details that would flesh out Roshan's past. I did enjoy this style of story as each time skip back dragged me more into Roshan's story and life, and I started to feel I understood the character on a deeper level. I am curious how this early read will impact how I see Roshan when Mirage launches in October.

The story we see in 824 is an odd Assassin's Creed story as it presents the idea that the Hidden Ones need something and they enlist Roshan's help, but that's where they stop. There are only 2 Hidden Ones mentioned, but after a few chapters they are no longer involved in the plot which was interesting because when I reached the end I started to get bad feelings about how this type of Brotherhood operates and it made me wonder if they have good intentions at heart. But even with the Hidden Ones missing from the later narrative Roshan makes up for it. She is a natural-born assassin with an inherited ability to see things that can't be seen by others, and her tenacious and hard-working nature has turned her into the perfect assassin, who is not only skilled in combat but also in movement. There were also a good few moments where we see Roshan's mental reflection on what Philo says of the Assassin's enemies and it sets up the idea that Roshan makes the perfect assassin.

Overall Daughter of No One is an essential read for all fans of Mirage, it felt more like a DLC story than a companion novel. and upon finding the book I had a lot of respect and admiration for her character and I hope we see her feature in more works. I was expecting it to be a little longer as there was a few things I would have liked to see but I do feel its pace and ending were great and made for a read that I just couldn't put down. I also like how Daughter of No One is the latest Aconyte book that not only creates a fun tie-in to the games but also helps reshape the transmedia into a world that Ubisoft should expand. I would love to see Daughter of No One and The Engines of History translated into a live-action mini-series or even animated.