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casuallyobssessed · 6 days ago

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Fairytales & Firesides - Bodyguard!John Wick x Fem!Reader ❥ 6.1k Words

A/N: My Keanuverse Secret Santa gift for @at-wicks-end, hosted by @97keanu ! I hope you love it! P.S. I don't live in an area that gets snow, sorry if this is inaccurate! 🫶🏼

Before You Read: bodyguard AU, fluff, canon typical violence/descriptions of violence, short-ish slow burn (I tried lol), angst, no beta, use of Y/N, :3c

gif creds to dalekinapaintedparadise - divider by bleachbambi

Archive of Our Own Link

Winter crashes into the mountains like a raging bull, forcing you inside for the foreseeable future. Sleet and snow dominate the weather forecast, rendering the outdoors dangerous in more ways than one. While the snow comes down, you could usually be found tucked away in your home library. Warm light from the fireplace bathes you in an orange and red glow as you curl up in your comfiest chair with one of your many books. This has always been your treasured safe space.

At least, it was, until things with your uncle got more complicated. For a while now, you've been living in one of your uncle's mansions, kind of doing whatever you want. He allows you to stay there only because you promised to look after the place every winter when there aren't as many people around to help on the property due to the snowfall in the mountains.

Your uncle, Diego, is into some pretty shady stuff. Gangs, drugs, secret societies? You name it, he has his fingers in it. Recently, Diego had some kind of drug deal gone bad with a very prestigious group of people involved. Since then, they've hired a hit on your uncle and any of your family that they can get their hands on. A distant cousin, one aunt, and your great grandfather have all fallen victim to revenge killings. Diego fears that you could be next since you live in one of his properties, so he's hired a selection of bodyguards for your protection.

Unfortunately, the newly hired muscle made your comfort space feel more like a prison. As silly as it might sound, you felt like a princess locked away in her secluded tower. Being a full grown adult, something like this seemed like overkill. You didn't need twenty four seven protection from everything that goes bump in the night, but you were dependent on Diego’s generosity, so you accepted his offer of security with gritted teeth.

As the time passed, your bodyguards came and went. You never had the same one for more than a week at a time. Many of them were kind to you, and thankfully, only one of them had been a creep. They were promptly dealt with (according to Diego, anyway).

It didn't take too long for daily life to start losing its spark. You plowed through a good portion of your books in the first couple of weeks. This prompted you to start writing your own book. Really, it was more of a journal documenting your experience, but who said it couldn't be both?

The guards were usually your only contact with the outside world, so you appreciated your conversations with them. Trading stories of their heroic actions for your recounts of the fantasy books you had been reading, you were able to keep your imagination running wild and your notebooks full of ideas.

After one particularly difficult week, Sunday rolled around and it was time for a new guard. You bid farewell to the previous one and patiently waited to meet the lucky new bodyguard. Diego would brief them on their duties before they were dispatched to your side. You just hope they were kinder than the last.

Your newest guard is set to find you on the floor in your library, busy reviewing pieces of your story journal. The click of the door opening snatches you back to reality, turning your attention to the man entering your sanctuary. Standing up, you step over your journal and various papers scattered around the floor, and slowly walk over to where he stood.

“Good Morning, Ms.Y/N,” His voice is as smooth as honey.

“It's nice to meet you,” You offer your hand and he takes it, giving it a firm shake, ”What's your name?”

“John. I see that you're busy, I'll keep out of your way.”

John looks past you, at the chaos spread about the room, and gives you a curt nod before assuming his post by the door. You return to work on your journal, hoping he doesn't notice the urgency in your writing as you occasionally steal glances at him, documenting the handsome new guard.

John is not a bad looking man. He stands a good bit taller than you with slicked back, dark hair and a matching, well groomed beard. He has beautiful brown eyes that twinkle as though they hold the secrets to the universe. Maybe that last part is all in your head, but there's certainly something mysterious about this man that captivates you.

Out of your way is where John stays for the next couple of days, quiet and mostly indifferent to your presence. He followed you whenever you left your library but kept a distance either in front or behind you. At night, he sat on the couch in the far corner of your room. Under normal circumstances, it would have made you too uneasy to have someone watching you sleep, but after weeks of constant surveillance, you were used to it.

Come the third day, you are determined to break the ice with him. Two days of no conversation other than one word responses was driving you mad. It never took this long for a guard to warm up to you. So, you decide that you are going to try your best to get some kind of response out of him.

Small talk definitely isn't going to work. This man is clearly not one to gossip or discuss the weather with. Your first attempt is to ask him about current events. ‘What's the world like out there right now? Anything important happening that I should know about?’ You're met with only a shrug and a small, well meaning smile. Strike one.

Next, you try asking him about himself and his home life. ‘Have anyone at home missing you while you're busy here? Do you have any pets?’ Unfortunately, these questions don't receive much of a response either, not even so much as a shrug. The look in his eyes hardened after the first question, though. You figure it's best not to push it. Strike two.

For your last attempt, you decide to ask him if he has any interesting stories about jobs he's had in the past. This was a common question you had for your guards as their answers would usually help inspire your writing. ‘Do you have any cool action stories or experiences you could share? I can tell you about some of the books I've been reading in exchange!’ Finally, John looks at you with somewhat of an amused expression on his face. It's the most emotion you've gotten out of him, so far, but he doesn't say anything. Strike three. You're out!

…Or are you?

John shifts on his feet before clearing his throat to speak, “I suppose there are a few I could share with you.”

“Awesome. Let me grab my notebook,” you say incredibly calmly, desperate not to give away your excitement. Mentally, you're doing a celebratory victory dance.

For hours, you two trade stories. His were outlandish, but true. Each story is more nail bitingly exciting than the last. Yours range from the worst romance novels you've ever read, to the best fantasy books you have shelved in your library. You filled half your journal with wonderful ideas thanks to John. And on top of that, it seems like he is getting more comfortable with talking to you. It's an overall win-win for you.

That night, you become keenly aware of John in the corner of your room, reading one of the books you suggested to him. You're not sure what changed, but you feel very differently about having him here. Sure, you feel protected, but something inside you has started to feel warm and gooey knowing he's always nearby. Maybe you just need a good night's rest. It's been a long day. You snuggle up underneath your comforter and drift off to sleep.

The next morning you wake yourself up from tossing and turning. You can't catch your breath, you're completely flushed, and your heart is racing. It takes a moment, but suddenly your dream from last night comes flooding back and you're blushing like a schoolgirl.

You had a dream about John. Oh God. Your cheeks must be burning bright red from embarrassment. Looking over at John, he is seemingly still asleep. His eyes are closed, head leaned back, arms crossed on his chest, and legs spread wide. You wonder what would happen if you were to crawl between those long legs and… Nope! Nuh uh! Shaking the rogue thoughts from your head, you promptly get out of bed and make your way to the bathroom. You need a cold shower, pronto.

Upon returning from your shower, John was finally awake, reading the same book from the night before. Realizing you’re back and wearing only a towel, John excuses himself and steps outside the door to wait for you to change.

You don't know how you're supposed to face him, but you know that the thoughts you're having aren't fair towards him. John has been completely professional with you while he's been here and it would be inappropriate of you to cross that line.

Getting dressed quickly, you pick out a pair of plaid pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt. Never leaving the house has some perks. You rarely have to get dressed up in stiff, fancy clothes unless you really want to. Days like today, you can lounge around in pajamas with no consequence.

Once you’re finished dressing, you leave your room and briskly walk past John without a word. You don't necessarily want to be cold towards him, but until you get a grip on yourself, it's probably better that way.

John dutifully follows you back to the library and posts up by the door. You tend to the fireplace, rekindle it as needed, and then plop yourself onto the bench next to the window adjacent to the hearth. Frost is crawling up the edges of the window, obscuring your view only slightly. As you stare out into the wintry wonderland, you try your best not to think about John and the contents of your dream.

Instead, you focus on the snowflakes as they dance down from the sky in a flurry and collect on the ground below. With how soft the snow looks, you have no trouble imagining yourself making the perfect snow angel, right in the front yard. You're not sure if going out there is the best idea, given the weather and the unpredictable danger, but a little freedom might just be what you need right now.

Maybe if you move fast enough, you could get past John and escape outside. It was worth a shot. You nonchalantly rise up from the bench and silently shuffle back to your room. John trails along behind you, looking moderately confused. You hurriedly shut the bedroom door, accidentally closing it in his face.

“Sorry, John! Give me a minute, I'm changing again,” You call out.

A muffled ‘Okay’ can be heard as you dig through your closet looking for your puffy winter coat. You find it half shoved in the back corner, dangling precariously on its hanger. After pulling your coat on, you slide into your snow boots, wriggle your fingers into your gloves, and head towards the front door.

As fate would have it, a big coat and snow boots are not the smartest choices when you're trying to move fast. You make it as far as the foyer, reaching for the door handle before he stops you. So much for keeping your distance from him today.

“Ms. Y/N, where do you think you're going?” John grabs your arm tightly enough to keep you in place. You try shrugging him off, but he's got too strong of a grip on you.

“Outside. I want to see the snow.”

“You can see the snow from in here,” He responds as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

“I want to feel it, John. I want to remember what it's like to breathe fresh air.”

“It's my job to keep you safe. Inside,” He replies sternly.

“I'm going out and you are not going to stop me,” You spit back at him, putting your foot down.

John reluctantly lets you go and takes a step back. He considers you for a moment before he speaks again.

“Fine. Diego won't be pleased, but at least let me put on my coat.”

You oblige his request and wait for him patiently until he returns wearing his heavy, black coat. Though you do feel a little bad for how you spoke to him, you don't regret it. You have been cooped up in this house for far too long.

John insists on stepping outside first to make sure it's clear before allowing you to follow him. The second you cross the threshold, cold, crisp air hits your face and you breathe a sigh of relief. Being inside all the time gets incredibly stuffy and winter isn't the ideal time to be opening windows to air things out. You stare up into the sky as snowflakes land on your face, only to melt against your skin.

Everything is still and quiet. From the house to the trees, it's a peaceful, untouched spread of snow, give or take a few sparse animal tracks. Off to the side, John is watching you and your surroundings with a sharp eye.

You trudge around in the snow looking for the best place to make your masterpiece. Just in front of the windows to the library, you find the perfect spot.

Without another thought, you fall back into the snow, moving your arms and legs to create the shape of a snow angel. You feel as giddy as a kid, smiling ear to ear and laughing like a fool. Who knew something as simple as playing in the snow could make you feel so happy, so free?

“John, come on! Make a snow angel with me. Please?” You’re begging him to have some fun with you even though half an hour ago you were plotting how you could avoid him indefinitely.

His footsteps crunch in the snow until he's standing over you with a smile almost as wide as yours as you look up at him. You feel as though the heavens have opened up and you're staring directly at an angel. The frost nipping at your nose pales in comparison to the heat bursting inside your chest.

He solemnly shakes his head at you, “I can't, I'm sorry.”

You stay like that for a bit until the cold from the snow starts to overwhelm you through your coat and pajama pants, sending chills down your spine. You stand up from the ground to admire your handiwork. It's a solid outline if you ignore John's big footprints in the snow above the head. You decide it's an easy eight out of ten.

Satisfied with your creation, you move on to your next activity. You scoop up a handful of snow and pat it into a ball in your hands. Luckily for you, John is turned away, distracted by something off in the distance near the trees. Now’s the perfect chance to strike.

You wind up your arm and toss the snowball at him, smacking him squarely between the shoulder blades. Pumping your fist in the air, you holler out a loud ‘Yes!’

You hear an exasperated sigh come from John, and quickly, you realize you may have messed up and taken things too far.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-” Your apology is cut off by John whipping around, grabbing a fistful of snow, forming it hastily in his hands, and then throwing it at you, landing in the center of your chest.

Stunned, you let out a loud laugh before returning fire. John obviously has the better aim of you two. Missing every other shot was an improvement for you, while he was landing every hit flawlessly.

Unsurprising to you, John ends up as the winner of the snowball fight. You gave up once your stomach started rumbling and you realized that you hadn't eaten any breakfast yet. Hungry and defeated, you head back inside with your bodyguard in tow.

In the foyer, you strip off your coat, gloves, and boots, tossing them to the side. You had plenty of time to worry about them later. John hangs his coat up carefully on the coat rack and turns to you expectantly.

“Thank you for going out there with me. That was a lot of fun,” You exclaim while rubbing your hands together to bring back the feeling in them.

“It can't happen again, but you're welcome,” He looks genuinely sorry.

“I know,” You understand the danger, but you wish things were different, “Are you hungry? I can make us some mean pancakes.”

“Sure, Ms. Y/N,” Once again, John is smiling at you and it's enough to ignite even the coldest parts of you. There was no way on earth you could keep trying to avoid him when he made you feel this way with just a smile.

Breakfast went off without a hitch. Well, there may have been a minor hitch involving the pancake batter, but John stepped in and saved the day. He ended up offering to take over the process entirely, and you agreed. That gave you a chance to watch him do something besides stand still and look all serious.

Once you’re done eating and all the breakfast dishes are clean, you scurry back to your library with John right behind you. Your journal and miscellaneous papers are still spread around the floor from the night before. John had really given you some wonderful stories to fuel your imagination, and now it's time to incorporate them into your book.

By the door, John stands perfectly still, aside from the sly glances he throws your way. Seeing him stand over there by himself tugged at your heartstrings a bit after the eventful morning you've had. It suddenly felt very selfish to have someone on their feet, at attention, all day and night just for you. From your seat on the floor, you gesture to the chair right beside you.

“You can sit down if you want. I'm sure you can still protect me from any threats just as well over here.”

“Thank you for the offer, Ms. Y/N, but it's in your best interest if I stay here.”

“Are you sure?” You think for a moment and then continue, “What if I said I felt way more safe with you sitting next to me?”

John gives you a hint of a smile before quickly resuming his professional poker face, “I really shouldn't… but if it makes you feel safer, I guess I can do that.”

You lean over and pat the cushion of your comfy chair, encouraging him to sit. He makes his way over to you and sits in your chair, sinking down into it like it was made for him. After a few minutes of sitting together in silence as you worked, you begin to wonder when the last time he was truly able to relax was.

“Hey John?” You look up at him, journal in hand.

“Mhm?” His voice thick with unease as he looks down at you.

“Can I read you some of what I have written so far? Will you tell me what you think?”

“Sure.”

Ever so slowly, John starts to truly relax as he listens to you. He spreads his legs just so and lets his shoulders ease back into a comfortable position, listening to you intently as you tell him your story enthusiastically. You stop occasionally to get his opinion on a set of dialogue or how a sentence is phrased and he's more than happy to advise you. By the end of the day with him, you've completely filled another notebook and you've fallen totally head over heels for John.

The next few days pass by in a blur. John assists you in nearly completing your book, lets you sneak outside again (a couple, glorious times), and he even makes breakfast for you on Saturday morning.

On Saturday evening, knowing that he'll have to leave soon, you convince him to have a movie night with you by letting him pick whatever movie he wants. You make a huge bowl of popcorn for the occasion and get settled on the couch while John peruses your Uncle's movie collection. He decides on an obscure western you've never heard of, and settles onto the couch, leaving one seat's worth of space between you for the popcorn bowl.

Subconsciously, you wish he was sitting closer, but you'll have to settle for accidentally touching hands while reaching for popcorn at the same time.

So far, the movie is a total snoozefest. You wouldn't dare say that to John, considering he seems to be enjoying it. If it weren't for his proximity to you keeping your heart racing, you definitely would have nodded off by now. Surprisingly quickly you run out of popcorn, so you set the bowl on the coffee table to get it out of the way and break down that final barrier between you and John.

Half way through the movie, you find yourself scooting inches closer to John. You hope he doesn't notice, but something about him just has a magnetic pull that draws you in effortlessly.

Now three fourths of the way through the movie, you start to feel brave. Taking notice of how lonely his hand looks resting on his thigh, you make the bold move to place your hand over his during a particularly high action scene. His hand is warm against yours and the feeling sends tingles through your fingertips.

You're pleasantly surprised when John doesn't shrug you off, but instead looks over at you with a small smile, before lacing his fingers with yours. Your heart is thumping inside your chest as he gives your hand a squeeze, but you're sure it's going to explode when he lets go of your hand to pull you into his lap.

Your senses are overwhelmed as you get a light whiff of the warm spice of his cologne as you lean in close, taking all of him in. His hands are gently holding your hips as you wrap your arms around his neck. You look to him for silent permission before closing the gap between you, pressing your lips against his. The feeling in the air is positively electric as his lips meet yours.

The two of you stay like that for what feels like hours. John's the one who breaks away from you first, looking absolutely debauched. His hair is slightly tousled, cheeks and lips are brushed red, and the lustful look in his eye is burning a hole right through to your center.

It's him who decides to ignore the tenting in his pants and politely recommends that you go to bed. As much as it kills you to do so, you reluctantly peel yourself off of him and go straight to your room to take another painfully cold shower.

Your entire night is filled with another round of tossing and turning mixed with racy dreams featuring your bodyguard, who never finds his way into your room throughout the night. You assume he's keeping watch from the living room, only slightly neglecting his duties of having an eye on you at all times.

Saying goodbye to John the next morning may have been one of the most difficult things you've ever had to do. No amount of begging or tears could have changed Diego's mind. ‘Getting attached to these people is like falling in love with a mutt you know you can't keep. They're here for your protection, Y/N, not for you to play with.’ His words stung. Even if it was the truth, you didn't want to hear it.

With tears in your eyes, you watch through one of the library windows as John's car retreats down the driveway. The hole in your chest feels massive, like it’s destined to swallow you whole if you aren't careful. Holding yourself tight, you curl up in your comfy chair and cry. It's the only thing you can muster the energy for.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!

You're startled awake from your sleep by loud, insistent thuds of the brass door knocker echoing throughout the otherwise silent house. You're not sure how long you’ve been out for, but the sun has gone down and the only light left is coming from the crackling embers in the fireplace. Rubbing your eyes, you drag your feet to the front door and open it without thinking twice.

Standing on the other side is a wall of a man. He has to be taller than John by at least half a foot, and twice as wide. He's wearing a simple black suit, not unlike something one of your bodyguards would wear during their time here. That must be it, he’s the newest guard hired by Diego. Since you had been asleep, you haven't checked your phone yet to see if you had any missed calls from him.

“Y/N, I assume?” His voice sounds like gravel, in an unpleasant sort of way. It lands roughly on your ears and makes you wince.

“That would be me. Did Diego send you?”

The man ignores your question and gestures towards the foyer, “Can I come in? It's freezing out here.”

“Uh, yeah, sorry, come on in.”

As you step back to allow him through, he slams a massive hand against the door, knocking it wide open and shoving you harshly onto the floor. Before you can make sense of what's going on, he's got a hand in your hair, dragging you further into the house.

You kick and scream as he lugs you down the hall and into one of the spare bedrooms. You try digging your nails into the back of his hand but he doesn't seem affected by the pain as he picks you up off the floor and tosses you onto the bed. The second he lets go of your hair, you scramble off the bed and towards the door. In a flash, the man grabs you by the ankles and drags you back over to the bed.

This time, when he chunks you on the mattress, he produces a gun from his waistband and places the cold barrel directly against your forehead.

“Don't move again or I'm gonna blow your fuckin’ brains out.”

Your eye twitches as you stare at him, afraid to even blink. He puts the gun back in his waistband and reaches into a pocket inside of his suit jacket. Out of his it, he pulls a pair of shiny metallic handcuffs.

You're tempted to make another run for it, but you recall the feeling of his gun against your skin and you decide better of it. He grabs one of your wrists and slaps a cuff onto it, and when he reaches for your other wrist, you snatch it away.

This appears to be your second mistake of the night. The man rears back and slaps you harder than you've ever felt before.

“Stop acting like a brat,” He hisses at you.

Tears well up in the corners of your eyes as pain shoots through the side of your face. You barely register it as he successfully grabs your hand and places the remaining cuff around your wrist a little too tightly. The cuffs dig into your skin painfully, taking your mind off of the pounding in your head.

The mystery man paces around the room checking the windows and shutting the bedroom door before stopping in front of you. He places a hand on your shoulder and clears his throat to speak.

“All right, listen. Here's how this is gonna go. When I get the go ahead from my Boss, I'm gonna kill you. Until then, we wait.”

You shrug his hand off your shoulder and your brain starts to spiral into full blown panic mode. There's no way you can muscle your way out of this. You could try playing the money card, he might fall for it.

“You don't have to do this. Do you want money? My uncle can pay you double whatever your boss is paying. Call him, I'm sure he-” The man presses a finger to your lips, shutting you up.

“Stop talking.”

With that, he goes back to pacing around the room, occasionally checking his phone for that green light to take you out. Your mind races a million miles an hour as you pull against the handcuffs, knowing you can't slip out of them. Sniffles fill the room while your eyes start watering again. The man gives you a disgusted look as your breathing quickens and your lip trembles.

“Are you really crying right now? Give me a fuckin’ break. This is just business. Eye for an eye type deal,” He snarls before going back to the window.

“Shit. Shit!”

He sees something he clearly doesn't like, and backs away from the window. In a huff, he's grabbing your arm, and snatching you off of the bed. You resist, pulling away from him and stumbling backwards. The man growls before charging at you, grabbing your waist, and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“Put me down!” You scream and pound your fists against his back to no avail.

With his other hand, he pulls out his cell phone and makes a call that goes unanswered. He hastily leaves the bedroom and carries you down the hall, heading towards the kitchen. You try to grab everything you can as you pass by to try and slow him down: the walls, picture frames, even a curio cabinet that only topples over and smashes, littering the floor with glass. Unaffected by your attempts, he stops in front of the back door, overlooking the patio.

“Hope you like the cold,” He grumbles and opens the door, cold air blasting into the house.

Not giving you a chance to resist this time, he walks out into the snow and tosses you on the ground, landing you hard in the snow.

“Get up, come on,” He's got his gun out again, pointed directly at you, “Towards the trees. Go!”

You try to collect yourself to stand up, but you're shaking so bad that you can barely keep your balance on your bare feet. Lacking the patience to wait for you to get a grip, he tucks an arm underneath yours and starts dragging you along again.

The cold bites against the skin around your cuffed wrists. Your feet are so painfully frozen, they almost feel warm as you try to keep up with the man holding a gun to your head.

It's a long walk to the tree line and by the time you make it there, you can't feel your feet or hands anymore. Your pajama bottoms are soaked through from the snow and you're convinced there's no possible way you can take another step, so you don't. You collapse at the base of the nearest tree, slipping out of his grip.

“Any last words?” The man raises his pistol to your head once more, “I'll make this quick.”

As you look up at him, your attention is drawn to the black outline of a figure running through the snow behind him, about halfway between the house and the trees. Your brows furrow in confusion, prompting the man to turn around and follow your gaze.

“What the fu-” You watch in disbelief as a sickening splatter of blood, bone, and brain matter explodes from one side of his head, tainting the bright white snow with a glistening red. All that can be heard besides your own heavy breathing is the loud crack echoing against the mountains. The light disappears from his eyes as his body crumples beneath him, landing with a soft crunch as the snow packs down underneath.

You'd scream if you could feel any part of your body, but the best you can do is screw your eyes shut and hope you're not next. Your tears freeze against your cheeks as you cry and hold your arms as close to your body as you can for warmth, even if it's futile.

Not long after, you hear fast approaching footsteps stomping through the snow, headed right your way.

“Y/N?!” Your eyes snap open. You know that voice.

“J-J-” With how bad your teeth are chattering, it's hard to speak.

In an instant, John is in front of you, pulling off his coat to wrap around you. He crouches down to eye level with you and places both hands on your cheeks, looking at you, his deep, brown eyes are full of concern.

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?”

You're not sure how to answer that question without crying even harder, so you just lift your hands up to show him the cuffs digging into your wrists. He seemingly understands what you're trying to say and turns towards the unmoving heap of a man on the ground. He searches through the man's pockets, pulling out a wallet, a cell phone, car keys, and finally, the keys to the handcuffs. John unlocks the cuffs quickly and tosses them into the snow beside you before gently rubbing the sore areas around your wrists.

“Let's get you inside, hm?”

You nod eagerly and try to stand up with him, but you can't feel your legs and you end up losing your balance again, almost toppling over into the snow. Thankfully, John catches you before you hit the ground.

“I c-can't-”

“Shh, I've got you. Hold on to me,” He reassures you.

With that, John is placing your arm around his neck and picking you up bridal style. The walk back to the house seems even longer and colder than before. You hug his neck tightly as he carries you, hoping that your shaking doesn't bother him too much.

John carries you into the house, past the broken glass and snow that's blown in from the open doors, not stopping until he reaches your safe space, your library. He sets you down in your comfy chair and kneels down while holding your hand.

“We have to get you out of these wet clothes, is that okay?” His tone is soft and sweet, yet urgent.

Again, you nod and let him help you out of your freezing, wet pajamas. He starts with your bottoms, tucking his fingers under the waistband and pulling them down your legs. Next, he pushes the coat he gave you off your shoulders and carefully helps you lift your arms up to slide off your shirt. He dumps them in a soggy pile on the floor next to your chair.

“I'll be right back,” He pats your knee comfortingly before leaving the library.

You sit alone and shivering for a minute until John returns with a big, fluffy blanket.

“Do you think you can take your underwear off by yourself?”

You look at him with wide eyes and then down at your hands. With how bad they are still shaking, and the fact you only kind of have feeling in them now, you aren't sure what you could do by yourself.

“I'll help you. I won't look, just wrap yourself up in this.”

John wraps the blanket around the front of your body, then reaches around behind you to unclasp your bra and places it on top of your shirt in the pile. He kneels down again and reaches beneath the blanket, slowly pulling off your underwear and dropping them on top of your bra. You can feel your cheeks heating up from embarrassment, and you're glad at least some part of you seems to be warming up.

Now that you're free from the clutches of the wet clothes, John turns away from you to relight the fireplace. While he's occupied, you pull the blanket around your shoulders and hold it closed in front of you, still partially numb to the fact that it was John who came to save you and you did not die back there.

When he's finished with the fireplace, John comes back over and kneels on the floor in front of you, grabbing your hand and holding it tightly, like you'd float away if he lets you go. He still bears a twinkle of concern in his eyes but he doesn't say anything else. Together, you sit quietly, thawing out your extremities and regaining some of your composure.

You’re first to break the silence once you're feeling properly warm again.

“You came back?” You whisper.

“Of course I did, Y/N. I couldn't stay away.”

#keanuverse secret santa #john wick x you #john wick x reader #bodyguard au #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you #john wick #keanuverse #fem!reader

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yourstrqly · 7 months ago

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. ⋆⠀⁺ BURN YOUR FINGERTIPS / library

jenson button x reader

when jenson sends you letter after letter, you give him attention and a part of your heart but does he handle it carefully or are you one of the girls?

jenson button holds the reputation of being a notorious flirt because of his natural charm, the smooth contact of finger gazing on the other person's arm or back, and the effortless comfort of fitting in any situation, wherever he knows the people or not. he's a winner in that sense, can never stops himself to talk to whoever is available.

the brit could charm his way out of an interview, literally anything, if we're being honest.

you, on the other hand, are simpler, much more introverted and less likely to be interested in chatting with absolte strangers. this isn't your kind of thing, though it doesn't mean you'll sit quietly in a group sitting. it's depending on the people you surround yourself with, the current mood and how low your social battery is.

so the letter attached to a small box does surprise you but you don't think too much about it as you have to rush out of your door to get your bus. the gifts rest in your right hand and the other closes the door. you can't be arsed to wait for the next bus, which will leave in about an hour — you just want to buy a few groceries and maybe browse through the local bookshop.

on the way to the bus station, you stuff the box in your bag and open the letter. the first thing you notice is the texture of the paper — it doesn't feel as light as the conventional paper used for everything and it's more grainy and slightly yellowish, remainding you of handmade paper your sibling and you did with your grandparents summers ago. you unfold it. your name is written down with a dearest in front of it, making you heart tumble in your chest, eyes fleeting downwards, where the writer's name stands. jenson b.

his words are sweet and the invite is welcoming you like a warm embrace. he gives fantastic hugs.

but there's a big fat why swirling in your head.

sure, you both work in the same field, enjoying racing, especially formula one racing, however that's the only comment ground. and mark. but that's all.

you've never been alone with him, never talked without anyone else there, never exchanged personal information and desires.

he must be enchanted by you, but why? and how?

the whole thing is seems like a crush type of situation, you've experienced at the age of fourteen to sixteen on several classmates and other students.

at home you open the small box carefully, tracing the beads made out of porcelain. a beautiful piece which fits right into your collection. you snap a picture of it, dangling from your wrist, to send it to the gifter, who's number you don't have. instagram will have to do the trick.

the following day, you come home to another small box sitting on your doormat, a letter underneath it. this time the beads aren't the usual white but multicoloured, glowing in the dim light the lamp spends.

like the first letter, jenson has used the same textured paper and asks for a date, number attached. you're quick to agree, shooting him a message to which he responds in the next few minutes.

in only a few days, he's standing outside of your flat, your favourite flowers in one hand, wearing a lose button down and dress pants. jenson looks good, and if he wasn't your coworker you'd totally invite him in after the dinner date.

as you've already expected, jenson is the ideal date, table booked at a cute restaurant with a nice view and you have your fun sharing lots of different appetisers. you feel great and comfortable, laughing at his silly jokes though you can move on more serious topics without hindering the flow. and the end of the night, the brit drives you home and you find another letter in your handbag, doodles on the side.

maybe this is how it's supposed to be.

when you run into jense at work, quite literally like shoulders slamming against each other, you feel his hand brush yours and the weight of a paper note between your fingers.

"hey jense", you mumble, happiness floating your body at the sight of the man. there's a bright smile on his thin lips and his hair looks fluffy as if he woke up just minutes ago. "you look good."

"but not as good as you, sweets", he cooes, "can't compete with a beauty like you. did you get my letter?"

you nod. "couse I did. you should think about writing a booklet about love poems, they're phenomenal."

"then they wouldn't be from the depth of my heart." He winks before continuing his walk down the paddock, fingers brushing his hair away to the side. his tall figure weaves effortlessly though the throng of mechanics, media personal and other workers, and you start to miss him again.

the note in your hand reads "you have a place in my heart no one else ever could have" and you immediately know its by fitzgerald, a topic discussed on the phone nights ago.

you receive another letter but don't see the man himself for two weeks. only three weeks after you get a glimpse of him across the garages, chatting up a woman your age from a different team. she's blushing, eyes fluttering every few seconds and giggles leave her mouth as jenson touches her elbow, before handing her a letter.

its the same tone of paper, probably the exact material.

at the sight your heart shatters and you feel used, a part of his game, weaving girl after girl 'round his finger.

sure, you know and have already known beforehand of his reputation though he has a way to make someone feel special, treats them lovingly, which let's you forget about it. you thought you were different, close to his heart, but he moves on, giving every willing woman a place in his heart another woman had already filled before her. its a cycle and you are a part of it.

what happens next is your decision — move on or confront him?

#f1 x reader #f1 imagine #jenson button x reader #jenson button imagine

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ckret2 · 3 months ago

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I know that this is probably because you don't render Bill's body hair (you specifically mentioned his unshaved legs in the text!), but for some reason I'm disappointed that we don't see any fuzz poking from the bikini. Not, like, for sexual or scandal reasons, it just... feels like he'd be showing fuzz. It's so hard not to if you don't shave. Possibly intentionally, if it let him put another yellow triangle on his body.

Yeah, that's a detail I specifically thought about. I assume that Gravity Falls is much like the rest of the US, in that the women shave/wax their legs, pits, and bikini lines, and the vast majority of the men don't.

So, since Bill doesn't shave either, I figure that (after excluding beards & chest hair) he looks exactly as hairy as the average man in Gravity Falls. Such as the hair on the pits, groins, and legs of all these men:

Notice that (minotaur fur aside), all their pits, legs, and happy trails are baby-smooth.

When Gravity Falls wants to indicate EXCESSIVE hairiness, they do it through chest hair and, rarely, arm hair, on occasion making that hair look as thick as fur:

And that's it. (Notice that in the fire hydrant scene, which was used specifically as a "Dipper Wishes He Was This Grown Up & Masculine" scene: still no pit hair.)

Manotaurs aside, I was only able to find two examples of men depicted with leg hair. (And, in Sprott's case, maybe pit hair, though it's ambiguous.)

In both of these cases, the leg (and pit) hair are drawn on as jokes about how disgusting these men's near-naked bodies are.

I doubt that every male resident & tourist in a rural Oregon town waxes his pits & legs. Stan, the Manotaurs, America guy, the cops, Old Man McGucket who lives in a junkyard?? They are not shaving their pits. All the men pictured above probably have normal quantities of body hair; they just aren't illustrated in the show, because that's a detail the show decided wasn't significant to illustrate—like irises, or fingernails, or half the characters' ear folds.

The only time men's body hair is illustrated is to indicate that it's excessive and the only time it's added to pits or legs is to indicate that it's disgusting.

I did my research before deciding how to draw Bill! Based on the visual language that the show uses, if I had drawn his body hair—pits, legs, bikini line in any combination—I would have indicated that he's hairier than everyone else in town, and that it's disgusting enough to warrant rendering in greater detail than anybody else's body hair.

And going "HEY EVERYBODY! LOOK AT HOW THE CHARACTER WITH TITS DIDN'T WAX HIS BIKINI LINE!! ISN'T IT UNIQUE AND NOTEWORTHY HOW HE DIDN'T WAX HIS BIKINI LINE? EVERYBODY CHECK OUT ALL THAT HAIR POKING OUT! THIS SURE IS WAY MORE NOTEWORTHY AND DISTRACTING ON A CHARACTER WITH TITS THAN IT WOULD BE ON ANY CHARACTER WITHOUT TITS, SINCE WE NEVER BOTHER TO DRAW THEIR HAIR—BUT LOOK AT THIS ONE'S HAIR! IT'S WAAAY MORE ATTENTION-GRABBING THAN IT WOULD BE ON SOMEONE ELSE'S BODY!"

... is the exact opposite of what I want to do.

And I offer that as free advice to other artists, because this is something I keep seeing artists do: if you're giving a character a detail that isn't usually depicted in your chosen art style—body hair's a really common example—ask yourself if you're adding that detail on to every character that has that detail. If you are, great! But if you aren't, and if it turns out it's only one or two characters whose body hair you've fixated on... maaaybe ask yourself why, and what signal you're sending by highlighting that detail with them and only them.

#anonymous #ask #bill goldilocks cipher #about my writing

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lecsainz · 1 year ago

Text

MEETING OF FAMILIES

PART ONE

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

request: hii! i loved your one shot "meeting of families" and as much as it is a one shot it would be interesting to have a part 2 with charles asking her out, him being totally a gentleman and their first kiss 🥺

authors note: prob can have errors cause I didn't review, I got a major headache anyways hope u like it!

☆. . . masterlist !

After the dinner with Y/N's family, Charles realized that he needed to see her again. It had dawned on him that he hadn't even gotten her phone number.

So, like any reasonable person would do, he decided to track down Arthur.

"I need her number," he stated.

"Why?" Arthur asked, teasing his brother as usual.

"I want to ask her out," Charles admitted.

"Just promise not to mess things up, okay? I don't want things to get awkward between me and Carla."

Before Arthur could give him Y/N's number, their conversation was interrupted by the sound of the doorbell. To their surprise, it was Carla and none other than Y/N herself.

"We came to bring Charles his shirt that Y/N accidentally stained with wine," Carla said, her smile widening as she noticed the exchanged glances between her sister and Charles.

Carla's playful comment sent a slight blush to Y/N's cheeks. She rolled her eyes but couldn't hide the small smile that tugged at her lips.

Arthur chuckled, clearly enjoying the moment. "Well, perfect timing. Charles was just asking for your number, Y/N."

Y/N's gaze flickered to Charles, surprise dancing in her eyes. "My number?"

Charles nodded, trying to sound casual despite the nervous excitement bubbling within him. "Yeah, I thought maybe we could go out sometime."

Y/N's smile grew, and she exchanged a quick look with her sister before turning her attention back to Charles. "I'd like that," she replied, her voice soft and genuine.

"Great!" Charles exclaimed, feeling a surge of happiness at Y/N's positive response. He couldn't help but grin, his nervousness dissipating with her warm smile.

Arthur winked playfully. "Well, since that's sorted, how about you two head out on your date right now?"

Y/N laughed, and Charles glanced at her with a hopeful look. "What do you say, Y/N? Are you up for a spontaneous adventure?"

Her eyes sparkled with amusement, and she nodded, her voice playful. "Sure, why not? Let's do it."

Charles's heart raced at her enthusiasm. "Awesome. Let's go then."

With a casual goodbye to Arthur and Carla, Charles and Y/N headed out into the night. He led her towards his car, and as they drove through the streets of Monaco, he couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and anticipation. The city was alive with lights, and the cool breeze tousled their hair.

They drove through the enchanting streets of Monaco, the soft glow of streetlights casting a romantic ambiance over the city. The cool breeze tousled their hair as Charles navigated the winding roads, his fingers tapping lightly on the steering wheel.

Y/N leaned back in her seat, a contented smile playing on her lips. "Monaco is really something else at night, huh?"

Charles stole a glance at her, his heart warming at the sight of her enjoying the view. "Yeah, it's magical. But you make it even more special."

Her cheeks flushed with a blush, and she playfully rolled her eyes. "Smooth talker, aren't you?"

He grinned, his eyes twinkling mischievously. "Hey, I'm just stating the truth."

They continued to chat and laugh as they cruised through the city, Charles occasionally stealing glances at Y/N when he thought she wasn't looking. He marveled at how easy it was to be around her, how their conversation flowed effortlessly, as if they had known each other for much longer than they actually had.

Eventually, they arrived at the quaint restaurant Charles had chosen for their date. The dimly lit interior created an intimate atmosphere, and Y/N's eyes lit up in appreciation.

"This place is lovely," she remarked as they were escorted to their table.

Charles grinned, holding out her chair for her. "I'm glad you like it. I thought we could use some privacy."

Y/N winked playfully. "Privacy, huh? Is that your way of saying you're tired of people recognizing you everywhere?"

He chuckled as he took his seat across from her. "Maybe just a little."

As evening wrapped up, their laughter and conversation flowed seamlessly, painting the canvas of a perfect night. The restaurant's soft lighting danced in Y/N's eyes, making them sparkle even more. Charles found himself captivated by every expression that flitted across her face.

As the night drew to a close, Charles paid the bill, and they both stood up from the table. The air was filled with a mixture of excitement and a hint of reluctance as they realized their time together was coming to an end.

Outside, the city lights still illuminated the streets, casting a romantic glow over the surroundings. Charles took a step closer to Y/N, his heart beating a little faster. He wanted to kiss her, but he also didn't want to rush things. Yet, he couldn't ignore the magnetic pull between them any longer.

"You know," Y/N began with a playful glint in her eyes, "I've heard that goodnight kisses are a must after a date like this."

Charles couldn't help but chuckle, feeling a pleasant warmth spreading through him. "Is that so?"

She nodded, her smile infectious. "Mhmm. It's like a rule or something."

With a mixture of boldness and a hint of nervousness, he took a step closer, their bodies almost brushing against each other. "Well, who am I to break the rules?"

His words were barely a whisper as he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in the softest of touches. It was a gentle, tentative kiss that held a promise of more to come. Y/N's lips were soft and warm, and he felt a surge of electricity course through him.

When they finally pulled back, the air was charged with a new energy. Y/N's cheeks were flushed, her eyes locked onto his. Charles couldn't help but smile, his heart racing with a mix of excitement and contentment.

"That," Y/N murmured, her voice slightly breathless, "was definitely worth the wait."

Charles grinned, his fingers gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "I couldn't agree more."

The city around them seemed to fade away as they stood there, wrapped in the moment they had created together. And as they shared one more lingering look, it was clear that this was just the beginning of a beautiful journey they were embarking on together.

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chillentertainer · 1 month ago

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Archive Classics: Typesetting Fics

TL; DR: the internet is temporary!!! printed books (for your own private amusement) are forever!!!

What I do:

Basically, I choose fics that I think deserve to be printed and typeset them using a software called Adobe InDesign. InDesign is the professional standard in the industry, but there are definitely easier (and cheaper!) options for formatting.

Once I've chosen a fic, there a few different things I have to decide: the font, glyphs, book size, and the hors-texte (title page, contents, etc).

Then, I go about copy + pasting the text into the software, and formatting them. Usually, that just means deleting the blank space of lines that for some reason appears between paragraphs.

Every element, and I mean every single element, is designed for the reader's comfort. At no point should the reader feel lost or unable to continue because of the way the text is formatted. This means using serif fonts instead of sans-serif fonts for the body text and making sure that there aren't any widows/orphan lines. I have specific justification settings so that the spacing between words and letters are even and smooth to the reader's eye.

I also think about headers and page numbers more than you would expect. Should the page numbers be on top or bottom? Centered or at the corners. Should I have headers at all? And if so, what should they say?

When I began, and I still do this occasionally, I grabbed books off my shelves and examined their formatting. Then I'd question why they made this design choice or that. All publishers have their special little quirks and features, and if I spotted something I liked, I would incorporate that into my own works. For example, Penguin Classics love their classic serif fonts and headers. Barnes and Noble Classics have a feature in their hors-texte that is their "From the Pages Of" section.

My favorite part is creating the cover. If you couldn't tell based off the title "Archive Classics," I *borrowed* Penguin Classic's grid. I love to use paintings or other kinds of artwork (like Étienne-Louis Boullée's architectural drawings for Fractals)

Why I Do This:

While there are many amazing and necessary reasons to read e-books, I enjoy the physicality of a printed book. Nothing can beat the sensation of turning the next page, the smell of paper, or the weight of your next great adventure in your hands. Fanfiction more than deserves to be experienced in that way too.

But also, I've always had a lingering suspicion regarding the temporal nature of digital media and of the internet in general. Fanfiction, in particular, are at risk of disappearing forever, and while you can obvs download it (which I always always do), there's a slight chance that you may not be able to access the technology in order to view it. Books don't require laptops or phones or internet service.

It's a silly movie, but Leave the World Behind (2023) showcases this perfectly, albeit with streaming services and dvds.

Finally, with the ever-changing landscape of the internet and technology, who knows if say archaeologists would be able to access ao3 in a 100 or even 50 years. Look at USB-As, and how quickly they're going out of use. Physical media like printed books will certainly last for decades longer. My ultimate (and idealistic) goal is to have a physical, printed library of fanfiction for both private enjoyment and for the academic study of fanfiction in the anthropological and literary fields. The latter will most likely not happen in my lifetime (if ever at all), but a girl can dream!

This is slightly sketchy but from what I can tell from my research is that most sites don't give an af if you print like one copy for yourself and you do not print en-masse or start selling them. So like Manacled. Don't do what those kids did and put up your copies on etsy. I don't. I print this for myself and myself only. And I've never gotten a cease and desist letter or anything like that.

Requests are open: if you have a fic you think deserves the archive classics treatment, lmk! I do not accept payment. This is all free.

Examples!

A Current Cover I'm Working On:

This one is a linen wrap, which means it has flaps!

#archive classics #typesetting #book design #indesign #fanfiction #ao3 #the temporary nature of the internet is something we should be deeply concerned about!!#fanbinding

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stebeans · 5 days ago

Text

Arcane F1AU

Switching over to Vi's pov. Takes place in the '24 race season, in both Caitvi's third season in F1. Vi with Janna Shimmer Wolf Racing (SW for short) and Caitlyn with Kiramman Racing (KR for short).

Warnings: multiple minor car crashes, swearing

Things get heated between their career long rivalry until it finally boils over for the world to see. Vi's a bit of a [justifiable?] dick. Caitlyn is a naive baby and oblivious to how much weight her family name holds. Special appearances by Jinx, Isha, Loris and Vander.

The Gloves are Off

Damacia Grand Prix

Under the dreary weather of Demacia's Great City Circuit, the paddock thrummed with controlled chaos. Pit crews scrambled to have their equipment checked and in place, the engineers coordinating with the mechanics in order to set up any last minute adjustments to the cars to suit the downpour of rain, and the drivers coordinating with the race engineers to run through the finalized strategies.

Stretching her neck, Vi pumped her shoulders up and down, throwing a couple shadowboxing jabs for good measure, calmly going over her superstitious routine formed back when she was karting and barely four feet tall. "Careful out there Vi. It's pouring much harder than in qualifying." Her sister and Shimmer Wolf's Chief Mechanic, warned as she handed over the balaclava as Vi finished slipping her arms through the sleeves of the black and red race suit, intersperse by various sponsors.

"Why is Demacia always raining?" Vi whined, pulling the balaclava over her already tousled hair.

"It's not always raining." Jinx replied, playfully poking Vi's ticklish spot along her side, earning an uncharacteristic squeal from Vi who's head had gotten caught in the balaclava. Isha, the officially adopted daughter of Jinx and unofficially adopted daughter for all of Shimmer Wolf, let out a giggle from beside her, dutifully gripping the driver's helmet in her small yet careful hands. "It's just usually rainy season when we race here. You should visit in the spring when the weather is warmer and the sun makes an appearance for more than a couple hours a day."

Vi, who had finally shoved her head through, shot Jinx a glare as she held her hands out protectively against her weak spot. "I would love to but we don't all have girlfriend's who own a freaking castle in Demacia to visit in the off-season." Vi teased, dodging another half-hearted attempt poke to her tickle spot.

"Not my girlfriend." Jinx muttered, deftly ignoring Isha's imploring look and Vi's stupidly annoying grin.

Shaking her head, Vi turned to Isha, who threw her a thumbs up as she smoothed the protective gear around her neck and tucked it into her racing suit before zipping up. "Okay kiddos, it's go time."

Vi held out fist to Jinx and Isha, both knocking their own fists against hers before climbing into the cockpit and settling into its familiar seat, almost a second home to her by now and was quite literally, molded to fit her ass. Reaching over, Vi accepted the helmet from Isha, ruffling the kid's brown mop of hair as thanks, who let out an exasperated huff, so much like Jinx, Vi couldn't help but chuckle.

Securing the race helmet in place, Vi reached out for the last of her gear. The race gloves were always the last to be put on. Vi slipped her signature wrapped hands into the gloves, flexing as she got a feel for them before resting them onto the steering wheel, turning the wheel right to left and feeling the car respond in kind.

"You ready Vi?" Loris, her race engineer sparked into her earpiece.

"Aren't I always?"

"You're clear to go for formation lap." He announced, just as the pit crew member of her motioned her car forward, ensuring both Jinx and Isha were in the clear.

Applying the gas, Vi inched the car forwards and out of the garage, the crowd thundering as they watched car by car exit out of the pit lane. The excitement was infectious as it roared from the crowd and settled deep within Vi's bones.

Later on

"Time to car behind is 1.576 seconds. It's Kiramman in P4."

Son of a bitch, Vi thought. She had been trying to shake Kiramman all race long to no avail. She shouldn't have been surprised with the way Kiramman had woven through the mid-field along with her when they had both qualified P8 and P9 respectively.

Turn 8 was coming up, notorious for running drivers off the track with the sharp angle. Biting her lip, Vi risked a glance at her side mirror, seeing nothing but water spray from her tires. Fuck, she couldn't see shit. Deciding to brake late, Vi went into the corner hot, typical of her racing style, rain or not, and was nearly clear of the corner when she felt something heavy just fucking slam into the right side of her chassis, knocking her head to the side as she struggled to control the car as she spun out from the collision.

"Oh nooooo!" The commentator exclaimed over the collective gasps from the crowds in the stands. "Looks like both Lanes and Kiramman are out of the race after that heavy crash! Both appear to be okay but that's the end of the race for them. Unfortunately the rain didn't do them any favors with low visibility and threatened tire grip."

"Agreed Marty, that clash between the titans was unavoidable. Looks like Lanes didn't see Kiramman in her blind spot going into the corner with the amount of water spray. And Kiramman caught too much of the curb going inside and that was all it took for her car to spin into Lanes. Not much you could do to avoid that."

"Disappointing race weekend for the both of them. They won't be happy with that DNF, especially Kiramman who had a DNF last week after touching wheels with the other Shimmer Wolf driver, Sevika, who slipped past in P3 after that racing incident."

"Shimmer Wolf sure is putting up a fight against Kiramman, both tough drivers who don't know the meaning of backing down. I'm sure team principal Marcus will have some words with his supposedly lead driver, heir or not to Kiramman Racing."

Vi barely acknowledged Caitlyn as she stormed towards the Shimmer Wolf garage, hands jerking angrily as she pulled off her racing helmet and gloves. She wasn't going to need it considering she had been run off track and into the barriers by the Kiramman Racing driver who was still stubbornly tailing her as she had all weekend long. Anger boiling over, Vi whipped around, shoving a finger into Caitlyn's chest, causing the blue haired driver to ground into an abrupt halt should she bowl them both over. "Why don't you fuck right off Kiramman." Vi growled, barely noticing the film crew hovering anxiously around the two, cameras steady and rolling. "Haven't you done enough damage already?"

"You surely aren't suggesting that crash was my fault?" She replied indignantly, her posh accent just grating against Vi's nerves.

Vi rolled her eyes, faintly aware of the way her drenched bangs stuck annoyingly against her forehead, a couple strands nearly poking her eye out. "Of course not." She snarked. "How dare I ever accuse the Perfect Piltie Princess of making a mistake."

Eyes narrowed dangerously, a spark of intensity simmering beneath the vibrant blues. Caitlyn knocked Vi's pointed finger away as she crossed her arms - the surprisingly toned arms highlighting against her wet racing suit with the way the fabric now clung to her lean yet athletically toned figure from the rain. Vi supposed she was quite valiant in the way she forced her eyes to maintain focus on Caitlyn's face and not on... other features.

"Come on Cupcake, I was ahead in the corner, I had the inside line. You didn't have room for that shit overtake to begin with."

Vi watched with concealed interest as Caitlyn worked her jaw back and forth. She had to admit, the Kiramman before her was a steel fortress when it came to keeping her emotions in check. Today however, appeared that the seemingly perfect mask was cracking. And Vi was going to enjoy shattering it completely.

"Doesn't really matter does it? We all know how the stewards will call it even after they "review" the footage. Must be nice to have the FIA in your back pocket."

Caitlyn's jaw clenched down so tightly Vi was surprised she didn't crack a molar. "Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

Vi lifted her hands in mock surrender. "Hey now. I'm just saying aloud what everyone else is thinking."

Caitlyn shook her head indignantly, brushing past Vi with a shove to her shoulder. "Oh piss off."

"Go fuck a duck!"

Freljord Grand Prix - one week later

"Vi." Loris' voice chimed in her ears. "Stewards has announced that the overtake on Turn 17 was illegal. We've been ordered to give the position back to Kiramman."

"Fuck!" Vi shouted, knocking her head back into the seat and slamming her hand down on the wheel. "Can we dispute it? I was clean going into that corner and you know it. It's not my fault the Piltie Princess can't handle the pressure and locked up. If she knew how to drive she would've been able to keep her car on track."

"We're looking into it. In the meanwhile we need to give the position back."

Ignoring the directive, Vi shifted gears, pushing her car even faster through the chicane. The Shimmer Wolf model was a beast in turns. "Vi." Loris sounded exasperated. "Do you copy? Give the position back."

From the side mirror Vi caught the navy and gold car weaving through the chicane smooth as butter which only made her blood boil even more. Almost too easily, the Kiramman driver caught up despite the lock up and slight detour off track. The front wing of the Kiramman car was nearly touching her rear tires and Vi gripped her wheel even tighter. "This is wrong and you know it."

Even through the mic, Vi could hear the deep sigh. "I know Vi but we need to give the position back. You'll get her again. We just need to keep it clean."

Vi shook her head. Keep it clean? She has been clean all race long. The only one racing dirty was the annoying driver currently on her ass. Bending rules and regulations to suit her wins, having the FIA in her corner and God knows who else, fuck it was all just unfair. How naive Vi was to think it'll be an even playing field as she entered the F1 circuit. It wasn't like Janna Shimmer Wolf Racing was desperate for coin. They had a reliable engine, genius engineers and a supportive all-round team. It was vastly different from when she grew up forced to race Frankenstein-karts, pieces and parts salvaged and put together with meticulous care (and a whole lot of prayers) just to be able to compete with the big guns.

Jinx and her had been the laughing stock at every single damn race. Not one but two drivers from Zaun of all places was almost unheard of, not since Vander and Silco's era. And they treated them with as much respect like the two black marks staining the otherwise prestige sport everyone thought they were.

They were on the straight and any other time, Vi would've been pushing her engine to it's extent, draining every ounce of battery to gain as much time but with the Loris' orders in her ear she lifted her foot off the pedal just enough for the car to slow to allow the Kiramman car to pass.

Anger surged through her at the unjust predicament. Honestly she couldn't think of anything beyond the constant mantra of "unfair, unfair, unfair" as it drummed and bounced inside her head, the chanting getting louder and louder with every passing second, her vision nearly painted red in anger with it all.

Flicking her eye to the mirror, Vi watched as the Kiramman car start to make its move, sliding smoothly to the right in order to make the pass. The front wing of the navy and gold car was just a little over half clear to the right when Vi tapped her brakes just long enough for her car to slow immensely. Bracing for impact, she felt the Kiramman car plow top speed into her rear, clearly not anticipating the move.

"FUCKING HELL VI!" Loris screamed, his voice nearly blowing out her ear drums.

She felt the back of her car crumple after the hit as both cars skidded across the track only coming to a stop when they slammed into the barriers, mixed pieces of debris flying through the air and scattering across the track, jarring both drivers from the collision. Over the ringing in her ears, Loris' non-stop cursing, she heard the shocked gasp of the grandstand as the formerly P2 and P3 was knocked out of the race with less than 10 laps remaining.

"Red flag, red flag."

Yeah no shit, Vi thought wryly, eyeing the red flag waving on the sidelines just meters from her and the crash.

While the Kiramman car had ended sideways in the barriers, Vi ended up perpendicular to the track, allowing her to observe every fucking remaining car drive past her. Her angle also provided her with an unobstructed view of the Kiramman driver. The reaction from the crowd, just behind her was deafening. She could hear muffled taunting and curses, surprised that most of them were directed at the Kiramman driver and not herself, especially after that admittedly dick kamikaze move.

The gleaming gold race helmet - pretentious, Vi thought snidely - shook in disbelief and Vi supposed she was lucky she wasn't able to hear what had to be a string of that annoying posh shit that Piltie's passed as cursing, as Caitlyn repeatedly punched her steering wheel in frustration.

Vi smirked despite herself. Good to know that the Kiramman driver was prone to emotions other than detached coolness.

In the corner of her eye she could see the safety car deploy, and Vi revved the engine, pleased to hear it running, her tires squealing in place. "How's the car Vi?"

Testing the gas as soon as the last of the cars were passed and she was in the clear, Vi urged the car forward. It wasn't going to be pretty but granted the pit lane wasn't too far off she was sure she could limp the car as graciously as she could back to the garage.

Amusedly, she noted that Kiramman wasn't afforded that luxury, her left front tire was completely wrecked and blown, the front wing or what was left of it dangled precariously from the crushed nose and the other tire barely hung onto its axel. Yeah, that car was done for and it appeared that Kiramman had came to the same conclusion, pressing the button that shut off the engine, than working her nimble fingers to loosen the steering wheel from the shaft before unbuckling herself from the six-point safety harness. The crowd jeered and booed as the driver slipped out, shoulders hunched over dejectedly as she observed for a moment the extent of the damages before waving off the race marshall who had came bolting up the sidelines to check on their conditon, before vaulting over the concrete divider separating the track from the narrow pathway leading to the pit lane. That's gotta be one hell of a walk of shame, Vi thought.

"Vi. We need to talk when you return."

It wasn't Loris in her earpiece anymore. Fuck. She could practically feel his disappointment in that sentence alone. "Yeah, I hear you Vander."

Vi had just climbed out of the cockpit, where she parked the damaged car just in front of her garage, pulling and shoving her racing gloves into her suit pockets when she heard the startled shouts of her SW pit crew. "Hey you can't be here! Get the hell out!" Vi heard Mylo yell out.

Undeterred footsteps echoed against the pavement as Vi turned towards the commotion, an inkling of what was to come.

"What in the ever loving hell was that Lanes?" Caitlyn stormed from down the pit lane, catching everyone's attention in the vicinity. Instantly the media personnel allowed in the paddock gathered, they could smell the juicy story in the air and the ever alert documentary crew had their cameras poised at the clashing drivers in excitement. Distantly she could feel her crew coming in to support her as well. Vi clocked the way Jinx had stood slowly from where she had been observing the damages.

Vi supposed by the time she had gingerly lumbered her car through the pit lane and with Caitlyn Kiramman's freakishly long legs, they were bound to arrive at nearly the same time.

"Don't know what you're talking 'bout Cupcake." Vi shrugged, attempting to walk away. She could see Vander make his way from the pit wall, a look of concern and disappointment apparent across his features and her blood boiled. "I was slowing down to give you the pass. Can't blame me you don't know how to make a clean overtake for a position you don't deserve."

"Don't play coy Lanes." Caitlyn growled. "That was a shit dirty move and you know it. Brake checking me in the middle of a race? That was reckless and juvenile. There's no place for such games in F1, grow the fuck up."

Vi let out a dark chuckle. "You fucking want to talk about driving dirty? You better take a good long look in the mirror before you go around lecturing me about playing dirty. This was a long time coming Piltie Princess."

With a shout, Caitlyn hurled her helmet and HANS device to the ground, uncaring where it had bounced and landed as she surged forward, fisting a handful of Vi's racing suit between her fingers. No Zaunite worth their shit would ever allow someone to lay hands on them and Vi, well, she was the the scrappiest of all Zaunites. Her own bandaged hands came up instinctively, her hands gripping Caitlyn's collar and shoving her back none too gently, genuinely surprised when Caitlyn held on.

Blood rushed to her head, heart thumping inside her chest that all she could hear and see was the Kiramman driver in front of her, not even registering as other hands shot out to hold her back. Not realizing how they had pulled and shoved at Caitlyn as well. The cries of "hey, let it go!" and "no fighting in the paddock!" fell on deaf ears.

"You don't know fuck all about me!" Caitlyn shouted, shoving forward, her fist nearly throat punching Vi with all the jostling happening around them.

"You fucking Pilties are all the same! And you, Kiramman, are the worst of the worst!"

Vi returned the jab, her elbow catching Caitlyn across the jaw and knocking the driver off balance for a second.

Around them the crowd thundered as they shouted out encouragements and taunts, just as caught up in the moment as the drivers, their skirmish was being broadcasted on the big screen for all to see, no one interested in the race that was still happening in the background.

"HEY!" Vander's voice boomed above the cacophony. "KNOCK IT OFF RIGHT NOW!" Two large hands gripped tightly to the collars of both drivers, easily ripping the two apart where the previously six pair of hands could barely get the two to separate.

The roar in Vi's ears began to settle, the post-fight feeling she hadn't experienced since her teenage years was slowly wearing off. "Vi, walk away. Now." Vander commanded before turning to Caitlyn with narrowed eyes. "And you. Don't ever fucking touch my driver again. You understand me Kiramman?"

Turning her nose slightly up, Caitlyn nodded stiffly. "Now fucking get out of here before you two make a bigger mess out of this shit." He said, shoving them both away.

Rage simmering and appropriately chastised Vi turned on her heels, whipping her race helmet off her head and slamming it on the ground as she stormed through the garage, ignoring the voices from the commentators droning in the background from the wall mounted tv.

"Looks like the rivalry between Lanes and Kiramman has finally come to a boil after a season long of tussles, penalties and crashes and we're only half way through! Both drivers caught on camera in an honest to god fisticuffs just in front of the Shimmer Wolf driver's garage. Are we watching amateur boxing or F1 racing for crying out loud?"

"I don't know Marty, but I can tell you that the fans ate that up. Heated emotions and passion is what both drivers showed us today. It's good entertainment at least."

"Yeah well if I'm Kiramman Racing's team principal I wouldn't be impressed with that showing. Come on, third DNF in a row? With how much in car damages to date? And duking it out in the paddock? You might freaking bloody think this is Kiramman's first year in karting! You'd expect better from someone like her."

"One hundred percent agree with you there Marty and going by the boos from the crowd I think you've got more than a handful of people in agreement. But let's be real here. This is Caitlyn Kiramman for god's sake. Her own team isn't going to replace her, not when mommy and daddy has a say."

"Well that's just the crux of it all, isn't it?"

Three weeks later in the midst of "silly season" Kiramman Racing announces that they've dropped lead driver Caitlyn Kiramman for the upcoming '25 F1 season.

TBC

Previously:

F1 Caitlyn Headcanon:

https://www.tumblr.com/stebeans/769238244811505664/arcane-f1au-my-headcanon?source=share

Caitlyn's F1 Interview

https://www.tumblr.com/stebeans/770436973830848512/arcane-f1au?source=share

Caitlyn's g!p sexy times:

https://www.tumblr.com/stebeans/770640335450849280/arcane-f1au?source=share

#arcane #caitvi #vi arcane #caitlyn kiramman #caitlyn arcane #f1 au #vi's a bit of a dick #and channeling her best inner max verstappen #caitlyn is naive and under immense pressure to perform #poor caitlyn she has a rough go at it for the first few years #they say fighting is a form of foreplay right?#little bit of #jinx arcane #isha arcane

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merakiui · 1 year ago

Note

Not a request for full stories (unless you want to later on) Just typical mer eggs's rambles

But we will need to think about something about jade in captivity now. Maybe a small ramble?

What if both the twins were caught together maybe?

Ooooooo What if Floyd and/or Jade were the princess's present instead of Azul!!!

What if the princess wasn't the first born and wasn't married off?

Sincerely,

Mer Eggs Anon (idk why I sign off so weirdly every time lol-)

Jade in captivity!!!! Oh, he's a menace, even more so than Floyd usually is. Jade will intentionally act like he isn't super intelligent and witty when he's interacting with the researchers just so they won't think anything more of his capabilities. He keeps a lot of things about himself hidden, like the fact that he can mostly understand human speech and body language after observing it for so long. He is cooperative when it comes to the usual check-ups, but he draws the line at things like the researchers trying to poke and prod at intimate, sensitive areas like his gills or slit or fins. Jade smiles so cordially, speaking in calm clicks (though none of the researchers ever know that he's cursing them or saying terrible things about them in mermish lol).

His vocabulary isn't the biggest when it comes to human words, but he knows most of the basics. It's how he's able to communicate a little with you, but he waits a very long time before he actually speaks to you, gauging your threat level and whether or not he both trusts you enough to be entertaining and also if he likes you. You're so used to hearing his clicks and whistles and chitters, so when you hear a silky-smooth "Good morning," from him you nearly jump out of your skin. orz Jade loves to surprise...

:o omg if Floyd and Jade were gifted to Reader instead of Azul... there are so many possibilities. Unlike Azul who has mostly civil relations with the palace staff (up until the day he's transferred back to the sea, that is), Floyd and Jade are fearsome and unsettling. They intentionally scare the staff, only ever softening when you're around. They're small and mostly harmless as elvers (only because it's an unfamiliar environment and they have to assess every danger while conserving energy in case they do need to drop the harmless act and fight), so it's a great shock when they both quickly outgrow their tank. They grow to be such big, strong eels. T_T it terrifies the staff whenever they pass the pool and spy the twins peering out from the depths, but you've never once been scared. Sure, the twins can be...odd with their morbid humor and way of doing things, but they're your friends and they've never given you a reason to fear them.

In the event that you aren't betrothed, things are pleasant. You live within the palace, spending plenty of time with the both of them. When they reach sexual maturity and breeding season rolls around, things get difficult. You don't know nearly as much about eel mers as you should, so when they're coaxing you into the pool you feel a little worried. You don't trust their sticky smiles and drawling voices, and the way their bodies flush so brightly, the patterns nearly hypnotic with how vivid they are, something stirs within you. You feel bad about running off when they may need your help, but it's the first time you've felt unsafe around them.

The twins resolve to try a gentler, less direct approach. One way or another, you'll eventually find yourself sandwiched between them, their tails curling between your legs in the water. Even though you aren't betrothed, it's still a scandal if the princess falls pregnant before she's even found someone to marry. The circumstances are a little unique, though. Even the physician can't quite wrap their head around how it's possible, but the proof lies in your womb. Jade and Floyd filled you with two entire clutches and it leaves you so unwieldy and gravid. But you're just too precious. Now that they've claimed you as theirs, you won't ever have to entertain the idea of marriage to another human. :)

It may get boring living out cyclical days in the palace pool, but at least they have you. And one day they'll find a way to escape back to the sea. Once they do, they'll take you and the fry with them to pursue a happily ever after in the ocean. <3

#twisted chit chat #mer eggs anon #yandere twst #tw: oviposition #tw: pregnancy #n/sfw #i love the way you sign off!!! it feels like reading the ending of a letter hehe :D

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nogenderbee · 1 year ago

Text

♡˗ˏ✎*ೃ˚ 𝕄𝕚𝕤𝕤𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕥 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟 ₊˚ˑ༄

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ @bl4cktourmaline request: yahoo~ bee! it's me again:33 I saw the requests are open? If it is and I'm not tripping then may I request for Lyney with an oblivious reader who is a big fan of his and they are like... mutual pining for each other but they aren't even aware of it that it's become annoyingly sweet lol

Words can't describe how I love this man

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Hey hey! You're not tripping don't worry I see our mental state is similar lol But omg help I love it!! Down for Lyney too won't lie-

But omg, I kinda wanna write part 2 of this!! If I'll still feel like doing this after my requests are all done and I don't forget, I'll def be continuing this!

Anyway tho... I hope you enjoy! I personally kinda like it so I really hope you do too ^^

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ platonic/fluff

At this point Lynette and Freminet were watching you two. Even if they were 2km afar, they could still see you two and could only sigh about the view.

Lyney gave you another rainbow rose. It was like... 24 day strike by now! He gave you one every day, and every single time in a different time. First time it magically appeared in his hand, yesterday he pulled it out from ear your ear and today he "found it" in your tea!! How's even that possible?!

"For you, mon cherie~"

"Awh, thank you! I actually got something for you as well!"

"Oh really? Now what could it be... maybe you got me a reward for my latest magic show?"

"Well... yeah you could think so! Though I actually mean it as a gift for being such an amazing person for me!"

He could only chuckle as he took small box from you. His cheeks flushed gently but somehow, it just didn't got through his scalp what you really meant...

"Well isn't that sweet! Now what could we... ah- that's my favorite cake! How did you know?"

"I just happened to remember it. It's the least I could do for all the gifts you gave me recently."

But maybe it wasn't just him who was being a bit blunt here. You were as well, he was giving you rainbow roses every day, flowers meaning he loves you and yet, you just couldn't notice that special meaning...

"Should we finally help them?"

"Let them be for a bit longer."

2 siblings were now considering just coming up to you two and hitting you in the head, maybe then you'd notice how you both have obvious feelings for each other!

They know their brother has a crush on you because after every meeting with you, he's kicking his feet like highschool girl with crush in his bed. And you? You admitted yourself to Lynette while asking for advice because you thought he hated you when in reality, he was a tomato and had to run away from emberassment.

But both eventually decided to stay back and watch. They don't want to take this special moment away from you... But maybe the can at least do some backstage work at helping you with confessions?

"You see... I got something just for you! I have very important snow this weekend and naturally, I reserved a seat in front row just for you!"

Lyney smiled as he hands you the ticket with small bow, his eyes never leaving yours but not in a creepy way, he just couldn't help but admire you a bit.

"Oh you didn't had to really! But I do appreciate it. I'll definitely show up, thank you!"

"No need to thank me! It'll be enough for me if you come and let me see your smile~"

"What?"

Finally realizing what he said, his cheeks became red and began stuttering even tho he's usually smooth with his words.

"I meant- naturally I'd want to make... my audience happy! That's... just natural... magician's instinct! Yeah."

"Oh that's understandable! Well knowing you, your abilities and charms, I'm sure it won't be hard at all."

But he wasn't any better. You were clearly trying to compliment him, but he thought it's just you saying it as audience and not as someone with a crush...

"Actually... let's maybe make a plan. We can start tomorrow."

Freminet nodded on his sister's statement and entered their hous, leaving the two of you be and prepared the great plan with simple goal: getting you two together!

﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌﹌

@bleachtheidiot - come get your charming magician~

#genshin impact #genshin #x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #lyney #genshin lyney #lyney x reader #genshin lyney x reader #fluff #platonic #genshin fluff #genshin platonic #oneshot #genshin oneshot #lynette #freminet

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willowmosby · 7 months ago

Text

I have over the last 5 months watched all 15 seasons and the immortality special of the original CSI. I have no plans to watch the reboot anytime soon so I thought I would info dump my thoughts, and if love to know how others feel. I will now present a very very long post with breakdown some quick thoughts on the seasons, more thoughts on most of the characters and a few ships.

Tldr: I really enjoyed CSI as a whole and I'm sad to say goodbye to a formula and some characters I've really grown attached to. ( And If there is a good Nick Stokes written into immortality fic please lmk)

Seasons:

I do think the early seasons the most fun/ light hearted, which feels weird to say when it literally opens with Sara investigating Warrick for negligence. I kinda wish I had blogged along or something so I could be more detailed in my response about them.

Like a lot of shows I think it really hit its stride in the middle seasons. If I had to pick a few seasons to watch it be 5-7. It also helps that I had finally gotten used to the lighting.

I think the 9- 11 stretch is too serious, don't get me wrong there were some bangers but overall not great

12-15 they were better and back to a little more fun, and I think the series kept its footing pretty well in its final innings. It was no golden era and I felt really bad that Catherine got demoted but I really enjoyed it. ( Well ok I really wasn' a gig harbor arc fan)

Immortality was a fine special, although I don't really feel like it stuck the landing. Part of that will probably become obvious when I talk about my character and ship takes but I also just felt the case could have been better. It's the freshest in mind, obviously, so I will say I really loved having Catherine and Grissom back and if anything I felt like it gave good closure for them and to a lesser extent Sara.

Characters( kinda in the order of their exit):

The lab rats: Bobby, Mandy, Archie icons every one of them. There is a world where Wendy, Hodges and Henry get their own sections but I feel like they would appreciate being in this group. Never pushed into too much melodrama their characterization, always great at their jobs. I would love to grab drinks with any of them

The cops: Brass will get his own sections but to summarize my feelings on all the others. They did their job and I love that for them. They almost never overstayed their welcome but they also aren't the reason I'm watching this show. The only two I would want to get drinks with are the should have been lesbian Sofia Curtis ( she almost got her own section but then i got lazy) and the best uniform in the business, the man, the myth, my man officer Mitchell.

Warrick Brown: My smooth talking gambling king. He was definitely missed after his death. While I didn't love his characterization in the greda Arc, I usually really enjoyed his dynamic with the team and his drive to the job. His death was the closest I came to stopping my watching. His skills with kids are underrated ( probably cause Nick and Catherine are so good) and I do have a say on top of all his intelligence and skills at the job he is so handsome. I think he might go a little too hard for me to enjoy getting drinks with him but I would still do it.

Gill Grissom: My second favorite Dr. Bug ( sorry no one can beat Jack Hodgins) he really is the smartest person on the show. You can always feel his passion for science which is lovely. While sometimes out of touch or oblivious he is usually incredibly kind. I liked his tie to the deaf community. You can pull the fact that he is Demi from my cold dead hands. In a lot of the ways he was the heart of the show and it definitely shows when he left. His relationships with Catherine, Warick, Nick and of course Sara were well developed. I would kill to get a drink with him just to listen to him talk science.

Riley Adams: she gets a section as it is rude for me to not mention a character who was in the credits but she's fucking white bread milk toast. Would not bother getting drinks.

Raymond Langston: I love his relationship with Robbins and I think he's incredibly smart. But I just think the show gave him way way too much too quickly. I mean just compare it to the fucking effort Greg put in to reach CSI or that as new CSI 3 there was a long stretch where Nick didn't get his own cases. I appreciated his complex background but he brought with him the Haskell arc which was just too fucking long and serious. I would get a singular glass of wine with him.

Catherine Willows: What a girl boss. And I mean that is all the best and worst ways. I really love her at her best but man some of her lows are just.. no fun. She is absolutely vital to the show's success and 9/10 times she is out there taking no prisoners and careing for her team. Just you know wish she hadn't shown her daughter a dead body or faked a crime scene with a new guy to name some examples. She could drink me under the table no doubt.

Jim Brass: While never my favorite character I always appreciate seeing him on my screen. Competent enough to hang with the scientist and still be a good cop. I appreciated how dedicated he was to his daughter but Just not personally my vibes. I would get a drink with him but uhh maybe make it non alcoholic cause it's unclear if he needs sobriety help.

Julie Finlay: She's sweet and very very good at her job. If she had come earlier on she might be one of my favorites just my top 3 was already filled. She brings a good balance back to the team, and she has a weird level of breaking and respecting the rules that I enjoyed. She very quickly had such a good dynamic with all the returning favs that there are moments I forgot she was so new. She's got big Bi & Poly energy. I know the actress wasn't coming back but I would've paid to see her interact with Grissom. Sad that she died off screen but also kinda glad they didn't end 15 with her completely dead. I would absolutely get drinks with her, probably mimosas despite my dislike for them.

Morgan Brody: eh shes fine. I feel like despite everything she still comes off as naive. I love her relationship with Eklie and Hodges but overall she left something to be desired. Nothing that I super disliked but I do kinda wish some of her screen time went to Sara or someone else.

D.B Russell: he was honestly a breath of fresh air, well until he wasn't. I think I just love Ted Dansion for one but also I felt like Russell was a beautiful balance between caring and professional. It was nice to have a supervisor who was actually kinda good at politics. I love that he actually cares for his kids and loves his wife ( although I was informed by my mother that he is divorced in Cyber). I do kinda wish the kept the bit where he laid on the ground as a body but mostly cause I found it way funnier than it is. I really hated the gig harbor killer arc and I felt like a large reason is it made him too serious. I would get a drink with him, but honestly I'd love to have a full meal with his family

Super Dave: what a lovable but weird dude. Genuinely a great example of how you can blend strange comments with kindness and consistency to create a great character. I would love to grab a drink with him.

Doc Robbins: What an honest man and in the running for the best M.E ( up there with Ducky and Cam). I'm glad he mostly stayed out of the drama and appreciated that he was always thorough, even when people were occasionally questioning his own work. Not kind to a fault but definitely empathetic. I would 100% grab a drink with him.

Now to the top 3, the best of the best, the ones who were in for the long haul.

Nick Stokes: Whether it's the sweet Texas accent and big bown eyes or the fact that he's the longest running main cast member I do think he is my favorite. Empathetic and kind, almost to a fault, he is also a man's man who can hold his own against the worst criminals. The show put him through the absolute fucking ringer but he still leaves with a smile on his face. Even when he clashes with other characters I feel like he resolves the problems better than other people. He definitely could have benefited from good therapy but I still love him anyway. His skills with kids are so nice and grounded in his backstory. Loved that he became the new big guy. Occasionally they try and paint him as a bit of a player but given he sleeps with like 2 women over 15 seasons it doesn't super add up. This is definitely the queer in me talking but he gives huge repressed Gay energy. Like a lot of his early arc is about graining confidence in himself. Not to mention,his relationship with Warrick and Greg are so filled with undertones and honestly let that man get fucked and some of his problems might go away. Anyway. So I guess more power to the actor for not coming back for even a cameo but I really really felt the lack of him in immortality. So If anyone knows a fanfic where he's there lmk I would read that shit in a heartbeat. Would get drinks with him, would die for him.

Greg Sanders: I love rave going lab rat Greg. I love the new CSI trying to prove himself to Greg. I love mob history author Greg. I mean he's got to be one of the most intelligent characters on the show- he's good at science and history- and it never makes him come off as rude or entitled. I think his shift from lab rat to CSI, whether intentional or accidental, is well built. He is criminally oh I mean so so so criminally underutilized in immortality. I dislike when he's angry and there are certainly episodes where he feels off but overall he's just so lovable. Disgusting hair choices but hey at least that was a consistent trait. His relationship with Nick and Sara throughout the whole show are really great and after 15 seasons they really do feel like they've been a team for 15 years. He gives Huge Bi energy so I would take him to a gay club for drinks and dancing.

Sara Sidle: You can call her a problematic fav all you want but she's a bad bitch and everyone should love her. She is so great at her job and she never lacks humanity. The show kinda lost track of her exact backstory at some point but I don't care too too much as she stays strong willed and passionate the whole show. Her will to never quit and iconic smirks will stay winning forever. I have thoughts on her relationship with Grissom but bottom line she knew what she wanted and got it. Her friendship with all the main cast, particularly Greg and Nick, is really lovely and shows how she has grown and changed over 15 seasons. Because I actually care about continuity I would not get an actual alcoholic drink with her but non alcoholic drinks aplenty would be had if I could meet her.

Ships:

Listen I don't have a real finger on the pulse of what ships are popular as this show finished airing 10 years ago and I was trying to not be super spoiled.

That being said

GSR: I'm not super into Grissom/ Sara ( side note I know the Internet was a different place 20 years ago but who picked GSR as their ship tag), but I'm also not against it. I think they have a big "match my freak" energy which is nice but. I don't know I just feel like by the end of it Sara could do better. Like she gave up the lab director for the guy who asked her for a divorce. I still think it's better than some other options just you know not like my otp. 8/10

Catherine/ Warrick: I think that the flirting was all fun and games and then if became too much. Let's be honest neither of them are built for committed relationships. Probably would have been better then whatever the fuck was happening with Warrick and Tina. 5/10

Catherine/ Vartann: its canonical and like they were fine I didn't hate it didn't love it. Probably better for Catherine in the long term than any other of her potential ships 6/10

Nick/ Greg: idk if this is super popular but it's my otp for the show. They seem like they bring out the best in each other. Nicks more clean cut natural could balance out the more chaotic ature of greg. Obviously with the era the show was made in I don't think that there tension was intentional but it's still there. From the name that chemical compound game to working together until the end of really think they would be great. 11/10

Nick/ Warrick: I had to mention for the just two dudes who have homoerotic tension energy but ehh Warrick dose really read straight to me in every other context. 3/10

Wendy/ Hodges: ehh they give straight white couple who should have just talked about their feelings. 4/10

Hodges/ Henry: is this a real ship? idk man, But it's an friends to enemies to lovers I would love to read. 6/10

Morgan/ Greg: ok part of this is the my ship bias( see above) but I did not like them together. Their flirting is not good, his anger at her kidnapping too extreme, idk I Just really feels like they operate in different levels. 0/10

Morgan/ Hodges: I actually thought this was really sweet and was super said they went with the parents dating thing. I think they understood each other on a really fun level and that they brought out the best in each other. I loved how supportive they were of each other even in seemingly poor decisions. 8/10

Finn/ D.B: I would assume that this is the popular het ship for the them but uhh D.B is so happily married and Finn ( much like Warrick and Catherine) doesn't really give monogamous relationship. 0/10

Finn/ Sara: 100% queer women projection but uhh just imagine post divorce Sara figuring out her identity with Finn and they try friends with benefits but then need more. 6/10

If you made it this far thanks so much for reading and id love to hear others thoughts as I do a deep dive into this show. I Will be reading plenty of fanfiction and may start CSI: NY to appease the new hole in my heart.

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thisapplepielife · 5 months ago

Text

Written for @corrodedcoffinfest.

Reading Between the Lines

The papers are slightly crumpled in his hand, and Goodie tries to smooth them out on the workbench in the garage, hand moving over them, trying to iron out the wrinkles. It doesn't work very well, but it's fine. It's just Eddie. He's gonna make fun, no matter what, Goodie knows that, without a goddamn doubt.

And Eddie's running late.

Which. Normal.

But Goodie really wanted to show him this alone, before Jeff and Gareth rolled in. Just to see if it's anything. He's pretty sure it's not. But it's the only song he's ever really written.

Eddie reads the lyrics once, twice, then he looks up at Goodie.

"This is great, Goods," he says, and Goodie feels his face go red. He's not the writer in the band, not at all, but this had come to him, basically writing itself, and he'd just jotted it all down.

"A few things we could improve on to really polish it, but," Eddie says, holding his eyes, "I don't think we can use this."

And Goodie deflates.

He didn't actually think they would, not really, but he'd gotten his hopes up, just a little, when Eddie had said it was good. Great, actually.

He's written something Eddie thinks is great, and they can't even play it?

"You don't like it?" Goodie asks.

"I love it," Eddie says with a smile, "I really do. You did a great job. I didn't know you wrote lyrics."

"I don't, not usually," Goodie admits, because he doesn't. Just the rhythm parts of songs with Gareth, as they find their groove, their place, as the backbone of the band. Working together, hammering it out, making sure they can slide into the pocket together and keep everything else on track and on time.

If they aren't in sync, the band can't be. That's just how it works.

Eddie's still reading the lyrics, over and over, like he's trying to memorize these words.

Goodie feels terribly exposed.

"And you don't think we could, I don't know, salvage any of it? Maybe you could rewrite the stuff that sucks."

"Goods. It's great, as is. Honest. It's a love song," Eddie says, and Goodie nods. It is. It definitely is.

"And?"

Eddie looks at him, big eyes as wide as they ever are, "It's a little on the nose."

"It is?" Goodie asks, because he hadn't written it about anyone specific, he didn't think. It was just shower thoughts, put to the page.

"It's about Gareth, right?"

Goodie snatches the papers back, wrinkling them further. What the fuck is Eddie seeing here? It's definitely not about Gareth.

"No," he stresses, "no way. Why would you think that?"

Eddie pats the empty chair and grabs his pen. He leaves the cap on, not making any marks, but tracing lines, and breaking them down. Reading between the lines that Goodie hadn't even realized were there.

Goddamnit.

Eddie has a point. Even if it's all bullshit, even if it's only all Eddie's own interpretation. It's not unbelievable.

Goodie can see it.

And he's embarrassed.

"It's okay. I won't say anything," Eddie says, and it's a kindness. Eddie is an asshole, a lot. Loud and rude. But Goodie knows he won't use this against him. Believes that, without a doubt.

He could. Easily. Either run and tell Gareth this juicy gossip. Or hold it over Goodie's head, as blackmail.

But he knows Eddie.

He won't do either of those things.

Gareth rolls in, and taps his drumstick on Goodie's shoulder on the way by, just a friendly hello, and Goodie wants to sink into the ground. Be swallowed up.

He's humiliated.

"Goodie said he had a song," Gareth says, sitting down behind his kit, "we gonna play it?"

"It sucked," Goodie says, "right, Eddie?"

"Yeah. Big time," Eddie lies, helping him out, "I said no fucking way are we playing that. It's the worst piece of shit-"

"Alright," Goodie says, laughing, cutting Eddie off. He wanted help, not evisceration.

"It can't be that bad. You let us play that song I wrote about squirrels," Gareth argues.

Goodie laughs. He'd forgotten about Squirrel Song. It's been years.

"It can't be worse than that," Gareth says, trying to help him out. Goodie wishes he'd just let it go.

"Nothing will ever be worse than Squirrel Song," Eddie snarks, "But it didn't fit our sound."

"How come?" Gareth asks, "It's not like he wrote the music? We can take anything and shine it up. Make it our sound. That's our biggest strength."

Gareth's not wrong. He's not. They could turn it into something. Goodie's sure of it. And maybe Gareth would never suspect. He's not exactly as lyrically-minded as Eddie. More willing to take things at face value and not dig deeper.

But he may or may not have written a fucking love song about his friend without realizing it. He's mortified that Eddie knows, and it'll be over his dead body before Gareth finds out.

He can't risk it.

Especially when he doesn't even know how he feels about it. Does he have a crush on Gareth? He didn't think so. But those words?

They're damning.

Jeff had to leave early for his orthodontist appointment, so Gareth is taking him home in the El Camino.

Goodie should've just risked his life and rode with Eddie.

He feels awkward.

He wishes he'd never shown Eddie.

"Eddie was a dick for saying no before we could even try to write music to it. We could have made it into something."

"Eh, it wasn't very good."

"Can I look? Maybe it's something we could work on together."

Goodie's face is on fire. This cannot be happening.

"I don't think so," Goodie says, and Gareth's shoulders turn inward, like he's been rejected.

Goodie hates it.

When they pull into his driveway, uncomfortable silence stretching between them, and in a fit of insanity, Goodie opens his backpack, handing over the lyrics.

Gareth smiles at him, bright and happy, as he starts reading.

If you want to write your own, or see more entries for this challenge, pop on over to @corrodedcoffinfest and follow along with the fun! 🦇

#corrodedcoffinfest #prompt thirty-one: your song #goodie (unnamed freak) stranger things #eddie munson #gareth stranger things #corroded coffin fic #ccf day thirty-one: your song #thisapplepielife: corrodedcoffinfest #thisapplepielife: short fic #jeff stranger things #freak stranger things

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kurokawaia · 3 months ago

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❛ EXTRAVERTAED? NOT REALLY ❜

Mello X Fem!Reader

WC; 500+ | !MDNI! | TW/CW :: anxiety, x fem reader, reader is slightly timid, shy and all that jizz jazz, mentions of panic attacks + more

⋆·˚ ༘ * 𝑅𝐸𝒬𝒰𝐸𝒮𝒯 :: (filled request) Hey! I wanted to ask if you would be up for writing fluff with Mello x female reader :)) it can be headcanons or anything, but I was wondering if the reader could be like extroverted one moment; having fun and then the next moment they are over whelmed and staying close to Mello due to anxiety 😵- ANON

HONEY'S NOTE :: i don't have diagnosed anxiety so please correct me if anything here is too out of wack, im just goin of personal experiences :)

m.list | death note m.list

Your personality lowkey confused mello at first.

He likes chaos, but he never was that guy to be the life of a party. However, you make people turn their heads at you without a problem as if it was so easy to just chat up any stranger and have him be your buddy in an instant. He just can't see too many people crowd around him, while he can't help but stare at the ease with which you pull this off easily, without even trying.

Mello enjoys the spark of you coming alive in social settings. It's that sparkle when you light up, laughing and bantering when you're in a good mood, he loves how your eyes glimmer 🥺. It's not actually that he enjoys the parties or noise; it's just that sparkle in your eyes when you're having fun.

But the moment you start feeling overwhelmed, he notices right then.

You're great at putting on a brave face, but Mello's too sharp, he notices IMMEDEITYLY. Your shoulders stiffen, your laughter becomes more forced, and in one smooth motion, you're sticking closer to him, hands fidgeting. Mello's not the coddling type, but he's quick to set a hand on your arm. He knows you well enough to pick up on the shift in your mood.

Mello doesn't question it when you start to retreat into your shell. He gives you space and doesn't push for an explanation. Instead, he slowly takes you away from the group, making sure that your presences aren't going to be missed, carefully taking you outside.

That switch from extroverted into anxious doesn't faze him. Mello understands emotional switches better than most. It's not unlike his mood swings, except where he turns his frustration into anger, you tend to shrink into yourself. He gets it.

You lean against his side, his warmth making you feel better, and Mello lets you stay there without complaint. In public he keeps his usual tough-guy demeanor, but his hand resting against yours or his arm casually thrown around you is his way of helping you from an overwhelming environment.

When you're back inside a more private space, Mello softens, but only just a tinee tiny bit.

He won't flood you with questions. He has his way of taking care of you when your anxiety has drained you. Mello's care is not exactly bold, and you appreciate that he knows just how to help without making it awkward.

He knows your limits, sometimes better than you do.

He pulls you gently out of a crowd when you don't even realize how close you are to a panic attack. Then he won't make a big deal about it when you are feeling better. Mello likes that you're independent but he's there when you need him the most.

Do not copy, steal, modify, etc. Relogs and like are appreciated.

m.list | death note m.list

#mello x reader #mello x you #death note x reader #death note x you #tw panic attacks #tw anxiety #cw panic attacks #cw anxiety

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birdmitosis · 1 year ago

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Since a minor theme for today's posts seems to be Voice of the Opportunist thoughts... You know, I actually quite like the guy. He's nowhere near the top of my list of fave Voices -- in fact, he'd probably be in my bottom three -- but I've grown to sincerely love all of them in their own ways.

Paranoid

Cold

Contrarian

Hunted

Hero

Cheated

Skeptic

Broken

Opportunist

Stubborn

Smitten

Like, that's probably my rough order of Voices? But I really love Stubborn and Smitten too at this point, like a lot. And Opportunist... really interests me. I don't feel as bad about him as I think a lot of people do. (Thoughts under the cut!)

I think what gets me about Opportunist is that, while he can come across very badly for sure, I think there are two main things he wants that drive all of his (very bad) ideas: He very badly wants to be liked, but that's secondary to the fact that he wants to survive. He's just geared strongly towards survival in a way that's more... social than physical. He wants to side with the people he thinks are the most powerful without actually upsetting anyone, until he gets to a point where he feels like we have enough power to be able to wield it. And as one of the Voices, he is actually very "we"-focused -- he talks about looking out for number one, yes, but you're all kind of a collective "number one" and he maybe makes that most clear in The Wraith chapter, where he never wavers from vocally trying to make the situation better for himself and Hero and Paranoid. He never threatens any of the other Voices either -- and not even, iirc, the Narrator, though he does turn his back on the Narrator when it becomes clear he's something of a paper tiger -- just the Princess, in situations where she has proven how dangerous she is, and not even always then. (Again, in The Wraith, he's not even pleased to have overpowered her if you decide to toss her into a bottomless pit.) He does want to be liked, too, that much is clear and seems to be completely sincere. He likes traveling (or at least the idea of it) because he thinks it makes him "relatable." He totally unnecessarily tries to smooth everything over with you and the other Voices in a way that doesn't always, to me, feel like him just being mealy-mouthed in a self-serving way; the example of this that stands out to me is in The Moment of Clarity, when Stubborn and Contrarian are tired of Skeptic's philosophizing and he jumps in to reassure, "They're good questions. Great questions, even. But they don't have any answers," and there's something oddly... gentle/reassuring about the delivery. The way you get him usually shows how he's geared to your (collective) survival and why he doesn't trust the Princess: In the first chapter, if you don't take the blade but then use it to kill her, that's your only chance to get him. But you get him in one of two ways: Go back upstairs for the blade after talking to her, in which case the Protagonist has probably legitimately decided that things aren't adding up and she's actually secretly more dangerous than she's letting on (and because she is "a creature of perception" she then reveals that to be true!), or trying to kill her after the Narrator possesses you, in which case there's that clear "hierarchy" of "the Narrator is too powerful if he can just choose to control us" (and also makes his trying to appease the Narrator in the later chapters make sense). And he is like the Witch, and honestly, in some ways I think it's understandable that he's resistant to changing even when she does. She is the one who changes based on our perception, and if I'm at all right that the Voices are the pieces that break off of us because we can't change like that but they represent her perception of us, well. The Protagonist and the Witch can choose to change and break the cycle in a way the Opportunist has a harder time with. But he is much like her: "This dangerous person killed me last time, we need to maneuver this situation in a way where we can kill her without her killing us again." And a big problem with him is that he is 100% wired into that survival instinct even when it's not necessary! He wants to betray the Thorn even after she hands us the blade back! But he also just came from a chapter in which we handed her the blade trustingly and she immediately stabbed us, which doesn't excuse it but does I think explain why when he talks about slaying her right then and there he says something along the lines of "we have power right now and we may never get this chance again" -- he's still expecting this to go very badly for us.

The other ways you get him in the various Chapter IIIs also back this up, I think: In The Razor, you try to "appeal to her better nature" after she's already killed you twice (and maybe a lot more!), which is again just him trying to survive long enough to turn the tables on a threat. To get him in The Wild, the Beast first has to eat you alive, but then you stab her to death instead of letting her escape or just killing yourself, taking advantage of being close to vulnerable organs to take her down with you. (And I will say, while I adore Contrarian, I find him much more obnoxious to have in The Wild chapter.) To get him in The Wraith, you have to take the blade in The Nightmare chapter but agree to free her, then slay her either at the door when the Narrator locks it on you (again, the Narrator showing he's more powerful than he should be) or after Paranoid straight-up says "if I absolutely had to choose I slightly prefer that we kill her" -- and then, oddly, he does spend the entire Wraith chapter trying to soothe her and get her to forgive and hire/protect not just himself but the Protagonist, Hero, and Paranoid (and is actually like "this was a bad decision, there's going to be no way to smooth this over" if you do choose to toss yourself into the void with her). And in The Moment of Clarity, he is oddly gentle with the other Voices for the most part and also advises just letting her out because it'll all be okay for them if they do. All of this is just to say that, like... Yeah, he can be mealy-mouthed and backstabbing and obnoxious. But I also don't think he's a backstabber for fun. He wants to be either at the top when it comes to "who's the most powerful," or at the right hand of whoever is at the top, but at the same time I think that stems from him just wanting to feel safe -- and what's safer than no one else having power over you? Especially when that power's been used to steal your autonomy or kill you so, so many times? In some ways he's low-key like Hunted and Paranoid: "What will keep us alive?" and "I don't trust anyone but us (unless I feel like I have to)" are kind of an undercurrent to everything he says and does. ...That also means that if he got his own body I think he'd be in an interesting position. He might have some issues at first with being more "look out for number one now means me and not us," or at least having some instinctive feelings in that direction -- but at the same time he might feel more at ease having complete control over his own body, since the Protagonist losing that control seemed to low-key freak him out more than once in the Construct and his smooth-talking might have had a lot to do with how he felt his words were the only power he had since he wasn't in control of the body. So there's a chance he'd struggle with staying quite as group-oriented at first, but there's also a chance that he might be able to relax at least a bit.

#slay the princess #slay the princess spoilers #voice of the opportunist #headcanons #this counts as that right?#i do really like this guy #there's a reason i think he'd work especially well with hunted #and i'm kind of sad for him that he seems to really want to be liked but none of the other voices seem to like him particularly much

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promptcontainmentzone · 11 months ago

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FALLOUT: NEW VEGAS SENTENCE STARTERS. warnings for: guns, violence, death, murder.

What in the goddamn…?

Let's keep this in the groove, hey? Smooth moves, like smooth little babies...

Baby, the odds may look long, but that's just because we ain't done rigging them. I won't toss the dice until we are.

Look, I ain't a harbor for illusions. I ain't expecting to get out of this shin-dig alive.

Can you spell detention? I'll tell you how I spell it: DEATHtention.

You are in the LIBRARY. Be quiet here and filled with SHHHHH.

I am lord of this institution. Where once, long ago, I was a student here. Now, I am its OMNIPOTENT GOD-PRINCIPAL.

______, you're about to have your FAVORITE treat - a VISITOR. Won't that be nice? DON'T eat the visitor, boy. Don't. Please.

What YOU ask is of NULL importance! _____ besieges us, there are more important things to worry about than DATA and FACTS!

ENOUGH! Stop filling my precious brain cell units with irrelevant data!

And… I wonder why it didn't hit me before, until I saw that memory in your hands.

How gracious of you. A mannerly killing.

Can't have brains moving around of their own volition.

In short: Brains, a heart, and courage... spine. I think there was a story once where a band of murderous thugs sought these things.

The ghosts aren't real? That changes everything.

Baby, this little reunion of ours? Chalk me up as a no-show.

I'm familiar with the care and handling of explosives.

How hard can it be? Just light them and throw.

I'd love to debate you on this, but there's no time.

No way. I'm not going to torch myself for your amusement.

It would be pretty funny, wouldn't it? Oh, don't look at me that way. I'm sure you'll be fine.

_____ is dead - what a mess you've made!

There will be no repeat of the trouble we had last time, I trust?

Even now? On the brink of battle?

You'll need a disguise, then. Or overwhelming firepower. Whatever works.

You must be, like… a brain in a jar!

Frontal assaults on casinos? Not good for business.

You have an interest in this even if you're too stupid to know it. If you have an interest in breathing, you have an interest in this.

They have no idea what other cards I'm holding. It's a strong hand, believe me - I dealt it to myself.

I guess I shouldn't be surprised. It'd be like them to keep paperwork.

I don't have friends here.

We'll kill more with two of us.

You only trust strangers?

Besides. I was on break when it happened.

I want you to find something out for me. I don't know if there's anything to find, but I need someone to try.

Gonna be hard covering you when I can't move my legs.

Goddamn it! Don't sneak up on me like that. What do you want?

Let me aim that for you next time.

You're hiding something. Spit it out. You owe me.

You got no right asking me that. Drop it.

It's just something I'm not ready to discuss. With you or anybody.

That part of my life is over now. So is this discussion.

Must've been one hell of a miscommunication.

Yeah, well. That's how they wrote it up in the report.

Life has a way of punishing you for the mistakes you make. Big enough mistake, punishment can take a while.

You're like a switchblade stuck on flick.

Shhhh… we're hunting shitheads.

All this planning won't matter much when the bullets fly, anyway.

No sense trying to hold the past between your fingers when it's nothing but dirt.

That fucking monument outside?

Started? Took to it like a fish to water... well, if you know what a fish is.

What the hell is a fish?

They're like birds, except they stay underwater.

Anyway, I've seen pictures. One guy even had one above his bar in Redding, except it was made of Pre-War plastic.

Greetings, _____. The disappointment you are about to experience delights me.

Can I order room service?

Am I punching too much? I get carried away.

You mean like this melee weapon right here in my hand at this very second?

Are you talking to me, or a future _____ who is not already doing that?

He always does what he feels is right. Usually that's a great quality.

Sure, I left them. But that didn't mean I'd ever be free of them.

We always make enemies, never allies.

Hold on. I see something I want to punch.

But at least I got the chance to try. At least I know for sure that there was nothing I could do.

Wow, _____ is looking for you, huh? What do you think he wants? Bowling partner?

But… you don't have a "this is good news" expression on your face.

Well, welcome, then. I'm _____. I live in a hole in the ground.

Well that shouldn't be a problem for me. I can't afford anything like that.

I've heard they shoot lasers from their eyes.

I just kind of drift from place to place.

I'll be honest. You're the first person I've run across out here that looks like she can really handle herself.

Aw, you really know how to make a girl feel like a stray cat.

He was dead when I got there.

This better not be about the meaning of life.

Damn, son, you look like ten miles of bad road.

Are you following me?

I saved your life so I kinda feel responsible for you is all.

I'll let that slide seeing how you gotta mind full of vengeance for that no-good polecat and all.

Yup, but this is getting a might embarrassing - people are going to start to talk.

That's a puzzle, all right. I'm sure it's nothing.

What in tarnation was you thinkin'?

I'll thank you not to touch my plunder.

Meaner than a rattlesnake, ain't ya?

To the Bone Orchard you go!

Seems they made like a ghost.

Won't help you none to lay low.

The Boss is pretty clear on this. I can't let you in unless you're by your lonesome.

You did a super job wrapping things up! And I'm not just saying that because I have to!

Here's a print-out with some additional information!

What? Did you expect me to applaud your efforts to support a deranged warlord?

That wig is going to haunt my nightmares. Seriously.

That one… had a little kick to it. The poisonous kind of kick.

Ahh, that feels better. I might not die for a while yet.

Am I dead? Is this Heaven? Oh. Hi _____. Guess not.

Will the medical wonders of the post-apocalyptic world never cease?

Back to the tomb, I suppose. If you need me, et cetera.

Strange how dead bodies appear wherever you go.

As the old saying goes, two's company, but three's a small army. Okay, I'm paraphrasing a bit, but you get the idea.

Wait, wait, wait a second. What's going on? Am I playing Vergil to your Dante?

I've woken up worse places. Not many, though.

That's sounding dangerously close to a plan, _____.

Alrighty then, I'll just head out. Alone. By myself. Into the dangerous wastes.

If I buy it out there, I want twelve mariachi bands playing at my funeral. A medal might be nice, too.

I'm not exactly a mercenary, but taking out scumbags of this magnitude wouldn't cause me to lose any sleep.

Why don't you make like Odysseus and get lost?

For as lack of adornment is said to become some women, so will this place, without your presence, bring delight.

I've run out of witty ways to tell you to leave, so why don't you just go?

#sentence starters #guns /#violence /#death /#alcohol /

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