#once I started writing so much more stuff came floating up

[terrainofheartfelt]

Miloverse headcanons: BBWE Before Blair Waldorf Era

After Georgina blows their bubble of secrecy and Rufus and Lily know, and she takes off “to the spa” the first of her exits over the first year of Milo’s life, that’s when Rufus catches the fake on the paternity test. (basically how it goes down in the show). 

The first person Dan calls when he finds out and realizes Georgina ditched is Vanessa. The second is his mom. Because his dad knows so like it’s only a matter of time, and because Dan has genuinely never been at such a loss at how to deal with something, and that’s what moms are for. (Just not Milo’s, apparently).

Alison gets a hotel room and helps out for a week — Jenny comes down on the weekend. She only cracks one (1) joke about the flying monkeys chasing her out of town, but all of that feels so far away to Dan right now. 

He considers his options and decides to take the semester off. Rufus loses his shit, but Alison backs him up. Dan wonders if there’s an unsaid something about his parents’ reasons, but he’s too tired to figure it out. Milo’s all that matters. Rufus gets on board fast (Lily and Jenny’s influence, probably), but there’s something fractured between him and Dan after that, and it’s a while until they feel normal again. 

Vanessa and Nate still have school and classes, but they help out whenever they can. Basically, they treat the loft as their study hall, even though it’s clearly in another borough. They each make jokes that the baby’s cute face is perfect therapy. After the dust has settled and it’s less weird Serena comes by too. She and Blair had been inseparable since getting back from Paris, but apparently Waldorf’s head has been turned by a new guy. 

Lily demands at least one weekly brunch so that she can lay eyes on Dan and Milo and make sure they’re okay. Each one becomes bookended by Dan and Vanya talking about their babies in the lobby. Vanya saves the day when the damn stroller wheel gets jammed (Ana has the same one). 

Serena and Nate dance around each other for years before finally getting back together.

When she comes back to find Dan with a baby, he gently closes the door on the possibility of them, and she’s okay letting it latch behind her. Dan needs a friend more than a girlfriend, and she needs a friend more than a suitor, especially with everything around Nate so unresolved. 

While most of the gang is sussing out Blair's new guy at her 20th birthday party, Georgina shows up at Dan’s door with a whole speech about how she wants to try again. The same bullshit she preached a year ago at NYU. Stupid big bleeding heart believes her, but doesn’t tell her what he knows about the paternity, and never leaves her alone with Milo. 

After another two weeks, she up and leaves again. Dan is spinning, barely keeping it together, and one day his dad and Lily appear. Lily gives him a big kiss on the cheek as soon as she opens the door, and Rufus carries a 22 lb turkey to the kitchen. It’s Thanksgiving. 

Dan can’t spend too much time worrying about Georgina establishing this pattern — it bothers him, yeah, but there’s a crying baby, and laundry to do and dishes to wash and doctor appointments and he can’t really focus on anything that isn’t Milo. 

Alison and Jenny come around pretty much every other weekend. Dan appreciates the reprieve, and the chance to lay eyes on Jenny regularly. Even if he can’t do anything about it, he can at least see her and make sure she’s okay. 

After Georgina ghosts again shortly after the New Year, Vanessa plants the idea that maybe Dan should seek some form of protection, seconded by Nate. As it stands, his rights are nebulous, with just his signature on one document holding them together. He starts to seriously think about how he would look to someone viewing his case, and gets a job, one with a great built-in child-care program. 

Once when Vanessa’s hanging out at the loft, Dan casually mentions that you know you’re Milo’s godmother, right? She points out that he’s never actually said that before, or asked. He’s bewildered, because he’s thought it so long it just seems obvious. He stares into space, mortified, until Vanessa flicks him on the nose and says she’d be honored. 

Waldorf is getting married, according to reports from Serena and Nate. Figures, Dan thinks, distantly relieved it’s not Chuck, and that whoever is crazy enough to marry Waldorf has a life that will take her far out of New York. 

Dan hasn’t seen anything of Chuck since Ana was born, because he’s busy, but also because he threatened to never come to another weekly brunch if it meant Chuck Bass coming anywhere near his son. All the same, he’s happy when during one of his regular study/play with the baby visits, Nate notifies Dan of his change in address. He doesn’t give details, and Dan doesn’t pry, but he lets himself be a lot smug.

Serenate definitely hook up at Blair’s wedding to Louis in Monaco. They agree it’s a “what happens in Vegas” situation. What happens at the wedding of your best friend/ex girlfriend you spent most of your life thinking you’d marry stays at the wedding of your best friend/ex girlfriend you spent most of your life thinking you’d marry.

Time passes in a vortex to Dan, the days only measured by Milo’s successes and meals and sleeps and milestones. It’s while Rufus, Lily, Serena, & Nate are at Waldorf’s wedding that Milo calls him Da-Da for the first time (it’s early but his son’s a genius and his language development is aided by Dan’s hyperverbalism). It’s those affirmations, those moments he clings to. 

Another moment happens later in the summer.  Nate barrels in and collapses onto the loft couch and soliloquizes about his messy love life problems while Dan only half listens. It’s business as usual until they see Milo take his first steps on his own. Nate pivots from his pity party to making fun of his best friend for crying. And taking pictures, of course. 

Georgina misses Milo’s birthday (she’d stuck around for a little after Dan’s though, then vamoosed again), but there must have been some cyclical honing signal that called her back, because now she says she’s ready. Dan has fucking had enough, so he says no, and calls her out for the faked paternity test. 

He goads her into coming clean about her milehigh escapades and angering a scorned wife with Russian mob connections and she gives the sob story of retreating to Dan and using his name and goodwill for safety. But she’s past it now and she knows what she wants and she’s taking Milo with her. But Dan refuses because he’s been here all year while she hasn’t so who the fuck is she to decide? And who are you, Dan? Because he’s not your son. 

A process server finds him at work at the Brooklyn Public Library the next day. He texts Vanessa and she’s there so fast and makes sure he gets home okay. 

Alison and Jenny are with Milo like they usually are on Saturdays when he works. Jenny takes the baby on a walk and Dan tells Alison everything and just crumbles. Once he’s gotten it out, his mom tells him to call Lily. He’ll need a good lawyer, and who would know better than her?

Due to Lily’s heavy-handedness, and the Sparks’ (because they’re now throwing their weight behind Georgina), and the sensitivity of the case, it’s handled outside of the courtroom, in endless depositions and meetings in chambers and Dan feels like he’s going insane. It feels like every other day that autumn he has to put on a suit and leave Milo in the care of Dorota and go downtown and think this might be the last day. That a decision will be made and he’ll have to go home to a completely empty house. His parents are there, always, and Vanessa and Serena and Nate orchestrate a rotating schedule of checking in on him. Eric’s at Sarah Lawrence and Jenny’s in London, so they mostly send supportive texts and silly edits of Milo photos.

There’s a social worker of course who looks into everything. In her sit down with Dan he’s so nervous he rambles on for way too long about some innocuous thing Milo did a few days ago. When he finally manages to get a hold on himself and apologizes, the social worker says, “Mr. Humphrey, do you know what good parents do? They brag about their babies. That’s all I’m hearing here.”

It’s a hard case. The lawyer—handpicked by Lily (who has experience in family court)—tells him that judges tend to favor the mother as a rule. Plus, Georgina has the biological tie he lacks. But, he has a history of stability and a long list of references and a network of support. And, biological tie or not, his name is on the birth certificate. He signed voluntarily, after Georgina asked him too. From a legal point of view, Dan’s told, his and Georgina’s parental claims have a fairly equal weight. A supposition that makes him want to scream. Or grab Milo and run. 

He confesses this to Lily of all people, she pulled him to the side so the rest of the gang could take over his kitchen. It’s Thanksgiving again. His second with Milo, and possibly his last. 

“I can understand that,” she says, “and of course we would help you, but when this works out for you, you’ll be happy you saw it through and went about it the right way. And you don’t have to spend your life looking over your shoulder and wondering what-if.” Dan thinks it’s the first time he’s ever really understood Lily Rhodes van der Woodsen Humphrey. 

When he’s not working or going through custody proceedings, Dan is with his baby. He doesn’t go out, doesn’t do much of anything for himself, because he’s afraid that anything that could be mistook for selfishness Georgina will find out and find a way to use it against him, and because if he loses, he wants all the time he can get. He wears himself down. 

His parents catch on, and one afternoon Alison takes Milo to MOMA for a day, and Serena meets with the judge in chambers, signs her name to an affidavit, then goes to Dan in Brooklyn to tell him that she gave testimony on the kind of person Georgina Sparks really is. 

The judge decides the case a week later, and Serena’s no holds barred disclosure compels him to not only grant Mr. Humphrey full custody and parental rights, but also a restraining order protecting Dan and Milo Humphrey and Miss van der Woodsen and a mandate that Miss Sparks relinquish her parental rights. Extreme measures for extraordinary circumstances. 

Dan is so relieved that on the way to collect Milo from the courthouse’s malignant limbo daycare, he kind of—collapses. His legs give out beneath him and he slumps down, back against the wall. His parents stay, Rufus crouching in front of him, Alison kneeling at his side, while Lily heads out to the lobby to tell they’re assembled family they won. They’re all there: Vanessa, Nate, Serena, Eric, Dorota, Eric’s even got Jenny on the phone. 

Milo’s second Christmas is in Hudson. They squeeze into Alison’s spare bedroom and Jenny is back in hers and Dan loves the city but getting out of it for a week is nice. It’s snowing outside and it’s Milo’s second Christmas and Dan is his dad and they don’t ever have to be apart.

[wandasfifthwife]

(3) locker room ✩‧₊˚ competing series

hockey coach!wanda x fem!ex figure skater reader

tw: SMUT MDNI, r has a v&breasts, top wanda, bottom r, service dom!wanda, r is a bit needy, wanda absolutely goes feral once given the green light, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), wanda uses the shower head on r, sort of public sex (locker room shower), cum kink if you squint

a/n: not proofread. THE SMUT IS HERE LMAO. I was a bit too excited to write and publish this, I’ll come back and edit later. Anyways enjoy this filth.

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It was all a performance. Every shy touch pushing the narrative, cultivating confident hand placements. The hand on your shoulder would find itself on your waist, pulling you towards her.

The first time she kissed you she was nervous, her hands holding you close but still at a distance. Every one since then has been pushing you down a dangerous path. They all made you want more, you wanted to fall over the edge with her.

The desire was growing each day. When she kissed you goodnight. When she placed a hand on your inner thigh. When she ran her eyes over your body. It made your legs weak.

Earlier in the day, just as the sun was rising she had been at your apartment. It was an easy Saturday morning, resting in each other with the tv in the background. Light touches almost hovering over each other.

You felt like you were floating, goosebumps lining your body as her fingers drew chills.

She paid you no mind, whether intentional or not she was stirring your emotions. Her eyes were focused on the screen, an occasional whispered compliment on whatever the house designing show had to showcase. It was infuriating almost. Her lips would sometimes touch your neck, a gentle touch here and there. She had strung you up and left you there when she had to leave for an appointment.

You laid where you once were, unsure of what to do until her contact showed up on your phone. She sounded out of breath as she asked you to come to the arena. You clambered into your car, almost speeding down the roads.

You didn’t give much of a hint as to where she was, last thing mention on the phone was that she was in the gym. The problem was that it was empty save for one man on the stair climber. You passed by without a care, feet wondering into where the ground turned into tiles.

There were a multitude of lockers aligning the wall, which were all off except for one. One had a small sign, the red light giving away that it was occupied as opposed to the surrounding green LEDs.

You called out her name, walking towards the showers and not thinking to check behind you. There were enclosed spaces, each separated by a wall. You walked to one, feeling bored so you pull at the level until the water came pouring down. It was in way better condition than you originally assumed.

Wet footprints sounded behind you, slight nerves picking up in fear it might be another woman besides the one you came looking for. They were eased when she came into view, a towel in her hand.

“You got here quick. I was going to try and shower before,” she emphasizes her words by lifting her towel up. Your eyes follow the movement and how it extends her muscles.

You feel your heart pick up, the feeling she had started before coming back to life. You point behind you, nonsense coming from you, “I don’t mind waiting, I could take a shower as well. My water bill is expensive.”

“Okay,” she says and begins to set her stuff at the one right beside the one you were standing at. You shouldn’t be surprised, but you had wished she would make a move. That she would hint at wanting to join you, maybe showing interest in you sexually.

You breathe deep and undress where you are, closing the curtain just before doing so. You reach a hand out to set your clothes on an outside bench. The water was hot, the smoke rising and collecting on the surrounding black tiles. It was much nicer than the shower you had at home and it genuinely surprised you.

She realized before you, calling out and saying she had soap if you needed. Her tone was teasing, asking if you were here to take a dry shower. You called out for her to hand it to you. The curtain made its clinking sound, causing your heart to fall out of your chest. You flinch, freezing as you come face to face with her. Her completely clothed body contrasting yours.

Her eyes flicker between your face and bare skin. No words escape her, face neutral as she hands you the soap and leaves with a jerk to the curtain.

It made your heart jump out of your chest when a second later you hear her curse. She brushes past the curtains again, descending towards you. It was two steps before your back collides with the shower wall.

A protest is taken from you when her lips collide with yours. She spreads your hands out beside you, intertwining them and holding them. There’s a forceful pressure in how you’re held between her body and the wall behind you. A heat builds within you and around the two of you as you drown in each other.

Her lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, pulling a moan from you, “can’t resist, I can’t wait anymore.”

She slides your arms to wrap around her neck, “I need to hear you say you want this. I’ll drop everything if you’re not ready.”

You smile and nod as you vocalize your consent. She’s lifting your left leg with a hand dragging under your thigh and propping it on her waist.

“At any time you need to stop or you want to slow down, tell me please, okay?”

You mumble your confirmation, hands fiddling with her wet hair. She places gentle kisses down your body, starting under your jaw and trailing down towards your inner thigh.

Her attention is completely focused, eyes glazed over already. A whine is pulled from you the second her tongue is licking across your heart. She presses it harder onto your clit, morning when she feels you tug at her hair.

You have a hand in her hair, another pressing against your mouth. A hand on your hip holds you open, barely putting in any effort whenever your hips twitch or try and close around her head.

“You’re so pretty,” she mumbles into you.

She slides the first finger in, a shameful whine coming out from behind your hand. The water falls behind you two, the heat and pressure below pressure you to breathe deep.

When she feels you’re ready, she begins to fit another finger in. She doesn’t miss how you shiver when she angles her fingers.

“Like that, sweet thing?”

A string of yeses fill the room, your tone breathy and sweet. She’s driving them in harder, directing them right at the spot that has your legs quivering.

Her tongue presses against your clit, building pleasure between your legs. You whimper at the sudden bite to your inner thigh. It was then that she decided to slide a third finger.

“Wanda,” you breathe out, back arching to chase after what she had been building.

Her fingers twist, trusting against your upper wall just as she sucks on your thigh.

“Oh my—please.”

You’re tugging at her hair, gasps and incoherent mumbles tumbling out from your lips.

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” she sucks at your clit, grinning at how your body reacts, “gonna come?”

Too much time passes and she’s impatient. Wanda thrusts her fingers in harder, a complete contrast of how gentle her voice sounds.

“Love. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you whimper, “don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing so.“

With a final kiss to your clit you’re sent over the edge. You grip at the tile, nails digging into the grooves. Wanda removes her fingers instantly, almost frantic as she brings her mouth to your heat. She soaks up every shiver, tongue swiping until all she can taste is herself.

You mumble her name, “kiss me.”

She’s shooting up, meeting you halfway. A muffle moan sounding from her as soon as you do.

“Mm,” you smile into her lips, “you taste good.”

“It drives me crazy,” she admits and pulls you back into a passionate kiss. A hand comes and strokes at your back, calming you down. It was when you felt your mind begin to clear, the effects of the orgasm fading away when she had started biting around your neck.

“If you continue like that,” you begin, stopping to gasp when she actually bites on your shoulder.

“Or what,” she questions, her eyes look at to the shower head with a shit-eating smile. You follow where she looked and jerk her head back by her hair.

“Every minute I spend with you I swear you just want me to believe you’re a total goof.”

“Is pleasing my girlfriend so bad?

“That’s a shower head.”

“So? Give me a chance,” she gives the worst puppy dog eyes, and yet you still can’t turn her down.

Her hands pull it off of the holder, the smile never leaving her face. Your emotions were apparent on your face. She laughs and kisses you sweetly, “it won’t hurt if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“I don’t think that, I just think you’re crazy sometimes.”

She hums, ignoring you and opening your legs. The water pressure feels like you’re grinding down on a pillow.

“You make the cutest faces,” she murmurs quietly to herself. She tilts her wrist for it to angle just below your clit. The action has your nails tearing into her back.

“Feel good, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, head falling onto her shoulder, “keep it there, please, please.”

She shushes you, repeating how she’s going to take care of you. She changes the setting, eyes steady on you and each reaction she pulls from you.

“Gonna come already?”

“Keep it there,” you move your head to kiss her chin, “please Wanda.”

“I will,” she whispers, “I will.”

When she realizes you’re coming, she’s hanging the shower head back to not overstimulate you. You’re coming down your high, breathing deep into the space you’ve created between you and her.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t help myself.”

You laugh breathlessly, head tilting back as she kissing around your chest and neck.

The sound filling her heart with joy. You stay cooped in each other’s hold, feeling comfortable not saying anything for a few minutes.

“Was it okay?”

“It was wonderful,” you kiss her nose, “thank you. I feel bad, you haven’t gotten off.”

“You don’t have to, watching you was enough.”

You push her back and stare at her, “did you really come from watching me?”

She pinches under your breasts, “no. I just got myself off when I was eating you out earlier. I wasn’t lying, seeing you come is enough.”

“Speaking of,” wanda grabs at your waist, “do you want to come again?”

You smack her hands away, a warning that if she doesn’t actually shower, you’ll shoo her off to another shower. She does so well for the first part, enjoying herself and being with you.

It was sweet how she checked in, hands gentle washing the soap into your hair. It was when she had to start washing your body that she became suspicious. What set you her was how she was taking too long to wash your breast.

She had stood behind you, hands running down the front of your body while she breathed deep into your ear about how she wanted to take you while someone was in a shower beside you. You realized then that your warning was fake. She too realized, another playful smile finding its way onto her face as she felt your body melt into hers again.

The water had become cold by the two of you came back to reality and finish “showering.”

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@dorabledewdroop @aru-son @thelittleliars

@sokovianbaby @natsbiggestfan1

@r0manxff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

@emiliaisdead @esposadejoyhuerta

@shinysuitcloud @xxsekhmet

@casquinhaa @scarlettbitchx

[scoobysnakz]

heyy girl i think if u haven’t what abt u write a dbf miguel x reader ik i see so many but theyre so gd to read they get me so invested every time🤷🏽‍♀️

summary: you’ve just come home from college for christmas but there’s a stranger in your bedroom

a/n: dbf as in dads best friend or dad boy friend? 😭 i’d do either but for this i’ll do dads best friend bc… yh. also tysm for the request it means sm 😚😚😚 also I guess this is a fic now? Bc I kinda hate one shots bci can never cut down on lore and stuff.

❤️

You hadn’t realised how easily college had managed to seep its way into every aspect of your life, pulling you away from both your family and social life, until you came home for Christmas.

Everyone looks so different, your mum is more colourful and chirpy, your father is healthier and your brother is surprisingly mature. But what takes you most by surprise is the lack of silence that has taken them by storm. When you had come home for the summer most of your stay had been filled with an uncomfortable but unfortunately familiar silence following you around but now, you can’t shut them up.

The entirety of the drive home from the train station is full of chatter, and for once they include you. They seem so genuinely invested about you that you don't even question the randomness of their questions, ranging from the journey home and the local shops that surround your campus.

“I heard that there's one of those pretentious, hipster coffee places nearby,” your dad claims from the driver's seat, not bothering to look around at you.

“Vegan?” you offer dryly, unsure of it he knows you work there or not.

“That's it!” he clicks proudly, resulting in both you and your brother sharing a sigh.

Part of you hopes that it’s because of you; that maybe they realised how much they loved you while you were gone and now feel overjoyed at your return. There’s a feeling of doubt floating around in your mind, telling you that this is just a random occurrence, but you push it to the side, wanting to focus on the positive and unrealistic.

***

Your brother helps you lug your suitcase into the house claiming, ‘It’s the least I can do’ which is surreal coming from someone who hasn’t written to you the entirety of your time away. You hand him your antler clifton all the same, glad you didn't have to carry it across the drive as well as up the stairs.

The warmth from the house welcomes you in, the softness of the heated air a stark difference from the harsh bitterness from outside. The sweet smell of cinnamon and gingerbread candles lures you in so soothingly that you don't even notice the extra pair of shoes neatly paired together with the rest by the front door.

“I'll leave it here,” your brother mutters before sliding across the floorboards towards the living room on the heels of his feet- not as mature as you presumed. You smile half-heartedly with a small nod, jealous of how easily he can dismiss himself.

And suddenly you’re alone again, left to your own devices as your parents go start dinner and your brother now yelling into his mic from the living room. It hurts slightly, moments ago they were all over you, so invested in you and your life that you forgot what they're truly like. It's the way it always been and you're a fool for thinking otherwise.

You scold yourself for being so naive as to believe that they'd changed, that they weren't as self-absorbed as they used to be, before pulling yourself away from your sea of negative thoughts.

You stare at your suitcase, bright white light shining on it from the lamp hanging above your head, and decide to leave it there, too tired to carry it upstairs to your room.

The steps creak under your weight as you slouch up the stairs, one hand idly dragging across the chipped bannister. You can't count how many times your dad’s tried to repaint it, how much money he's spent on overpriced glosses and varnishes, how many hours he's spent sanding the thing down.

As you cross the landing, thick carpet dampening the sound of your steps, you the bathroom door left ajar and the soft heat emanating from it. Which is… weird because both your parents and your brother are downstairs. But you shrug it off, too fed up to care, and drag yourself over to your bedroom, head drooping downwards with fatigue.

Casually, you push your door open, expecting the room to be empty and your bed freshly made as it often is when you come home for the holidays. Except it isn't.

Soft jazz music hums throughout the room, playing from a speaker you can't quite place, and the smell of an intoxicatingly strong aftershave clings to the air. Your walls are still decorated with the wallpaper you had when you left but it's covered in various posters. Some are boring and presumably scientific based on the array of symbols, whereas others are insanely niche but you don't really put too much effort into trying to understand them- you're too distracted by the man standing in the middle of your room, half naked and dripping with water.

He's tall, intimidatingly so, but the soft dimples that form in his cheeks as he smiles down at you soothe your nerves- slightly.

“Hey,” he grins down at you, head now cocked to the side and pats his ear causing water droplets to drip onto your carpeted floor.

You blink at him, completely dumbstruck and unsure of what to do. “What the fuck?” you breathe shakily, palms clamming up as your brain desperately flickers between arousal and fear.

The man’s brow furrows at your anxious tone and his smile falters slightly. “I think I should be the one cursing here,” he jests, tone annoyingly light, “you’ve just walked into my room without knocking or anything.”

“You're room?” you scoff, arms folding across your chest. “You're the stranger here, not me.”

He grins at your attitude, those dimples presenting themselves again. “I’m offended, has it been that long since you've last seen me?” he questions, large hand splayed across his chest feigning offence.

You pause for a moment and let your gaze scan him for a moment. He looks familiar, dark slicked back hair and mahogany eyes that are simultaneously scrutinizing and sympathetic.

“A la mierda, querida, have you really forgotten me?” he teases.

And then it clicks. You feel so embarrassed now, for not recognising him. Miguel, your dad’s best friend who you haven't seen for years, is finally visiting again.

He does look different now, though. He's still tall and his face is as chiselled as ever, though there are creases in his skin from when he's smiled too often or squinted too hard at the sun, but he's bulked up a considerable amount. His biceps look bigger than your thighs, tensing and relaxing with every slight movement and shining with the shower water in the yellow light of the evening sun. In fact, his entire body is covered in muscles, and what you can see of his lower half is toned, covered in dark tufts of hair, yes, but the curvature of each muscle is still visible.

He clears his throat and you realise that you’ve been staring longer than intended, shame burning hot on your neck.

“Sorry,” you mutter, “about not recognising you.”

He shrugs off your apology, which irks you slightly but you push past it, and smile once again. “I look different, old age is catching up on me.”

That's definitely what's different.

> next

[writingforatwistedworld]

REQUEST GALLORE I AM SORRY FJDKDJ--

Okay but what if, reader/mc in the self aware au already in their universe (no I don't see a patter what are you talking about-) who was usually pretty physically Affectionate to those they concidered close, friends or others. This affection Carrier also over to the twst characters they meet with hello/goodbye hugs, holding hand when walking together, headpats or patter on the back for encouragment and even mayhaps a forehead kiss or too (if the caharcters allowed it of course)

This bur liek with Leona, Azul and Malleus (ik u see a pattern Veil just don't comment on it i don't have faves i SWEAR--)

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, murder, violence, blood, death, obsession, possessiveness, kidnapping, manipulation

Leona Kingscholar/Azul Ashengrotto/Malleus Draconia-Player who is physically very affectionate

Little comparison

That scratch on that student's face that is getting stitches at the doctors? That is a random someone who tried to get just lightly pat him on the back

That person hugging Leona whilst he has to hold back from straight up holding on to them? That is the Overseer with our local not so tame house cat

Ruggie thought he was dreaming the first time he saw that happening (although he is still doing a double take after that every time)

However, at the same time it is you so is this a surprise

But let us make sense of this and not let it stand as some lonely points that crave physical affection themselves

Leona is not used to any kind of touch that is meant to show some sort of affection (minus his brothers family and he is still acting as if he got thrown into cold water)

I mean, come on. What did you expect? The servants smiling and hugging him after saying all of that?

So when you finally started to go all in (in other words wrestle jump onto him in hug version) he was this, and I really mean this close to throwing you off and making sure that you and he adore the same scar

And then, oh Overseer, it is you

The one person he imagined himself to be with since he was a child, seeing you as the only one who would accept him no matter what

This also tells us another thing: he would shred the individuals whom you also show affection towards like that

And also, once or twice, he might have returned the hug with his grip getting tighter, and tighter, and tighter, and...you ended up having a few deep scratches on your shoulder blades

Ruggie was also tempted more than just once to put up a sign saying “DO NOT ENTER!!! DON’T! DON’T ASK WHY!!! JUST DON'T!!!!!” whenever you two are in a room together. (There were a few incidents...)

That special paint the Queen of hearts loved so much is hard to get off of clothing you know?

But it is not Leona's fault for his shirt to get dirty! They just didn't know their place and who is he to deny them lessons which will teach them a lot. Perhaps he should teach them some courtesy...

YESYESYESYESYOUDOINGGREATYESYESYES

*ahem* Interruption aside, you are really doing great work

I mean, my poor man over here is just craving some affection from others than his parents

Now, of course, he isn't just some oversized pillow and will whack anyone who tries something like that with that came of his

But this is you

You and not like some noisy first year why can't keep their hands to themselves and get the note that no, he doesn't like hugs from strangers

But mhm imagine this, the guy is just working there, writing stuff and so on

And then suddenly you throw the door open, looking like you are ready to tear down this place and that special thingy when a person looks way more frightening because the lightning is falling just right

And then you attack... hug him! Attack! No that looks like a hug... And then you attack-hug him!

Ah... his soul just left his body... floating in the air as he watches what happens to his body from the ceiling...

And then he gets sucked right back into it from shock as you tell him how great he is doing and yada yada all of that

Look at how nice you are to others as well... hadn't he told that freshman to stay away from you just two days ago?

Whoops! Looks like Jade and Floyd are allowed to play with their new friend... if he hadn't runied them with a deal before that

How dare that imbicle try to get close to you!

That spot is reserved for him only!

But don't you worry dead! He is very forgiving so why won't you just promise to stay with him for the rest of his life and to please tell him what made you cry like this? Oh? His fingernails are digging a bit too much into your side? Pardon him!

*sigh* I swear to the Overseer people are requesting Lilia and/or Malleus with these kinds of scenarios because they know that it ends with the world burning

But hey aren't you a kind one?

I mean, Malleus is, and this is no big secret, starved for any kind of attention so once you show your affection for him like this?

All I'm telling you is to pack your bags and just say “yes” when he forces asks you to follow him to the Valley of Thorns, so that fire insurance or maybe even the end-of-the-world insurance doesn't have to be used by the Headmage

But ok, sweet great can you do a favour for me?

When you are already sealing your fate so that it's doomed could you please pet that tail and those horns for me? I was always interested in the texture...

Malleus pupils are slits? Nah, he so tame they became big big circles

But imagine, you have been feared all your life and then suddenly your God themselves is like “you are awesome and this is why I'm hugging you”

So, one sunny day a Malleus, a most rare kind of student, was walking down the path... and was ready to make someone's height a head shorter

Why? Well someone just hugged him from behind and thank goodness am I glad that his reflexes are also better like his overall strength because otherwise that would have been the new reality

But I think you might have to teach him how to hug someone properly before proceeding because...

No? Just the nerves? Ok, he just nervous

What Lilia is doing over there with a bag dripping some weird liquid? Nah, that is just your imagination!

Nope! That isn't the hand of that one person you had patted encouragingly on the back sticking out of it!

Just... just pack those bags and show him a big smile!

His home is already eagerly awaiting you so don't fall behind. You usually like to sick close, no?

[mumms-the-word]

Settling In

Day 4 for the BG3 Fic February Challenge. The Faerûnian February challenge? The write-BG3-fic-for-29-days challenge. That challenge.

This one was tricky for me, and honestly I could have picked any Tav for it. But I chose Dani for today, with some bonus notes about other Tavs at the end.

Check out the Masterlist of my fics here.

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4. Camp chores

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Dani stretched her arms high over her head, letting every inch of the muscles in her arms find sweet relief from the tension they’d been carrying since early that morning. At least, for a brief moment. The second she dropped her arms, all the aches came back and settled in, as if they planned to stay for good.

Typical. You’d think that after nearly two weeks of adventure, her body would have gotten used to it, but no. Then again, the alternative was ceremorphosis, a fate she was miraculously escaping for some weird reason. So maybe a few muscle aches weren’t so bad, compared to the alternative.

This was her life now. Days on the road, wandering the wilderness, following leads, getting into trouble, getting out of trouble, and then setting up camp to get a good night’s rest, only to start it all over again in the morning. 

She set her hands on her hips and watched her companions a moment. Like her, they had all fallen into a kind of rhythm for camp each night. Almost without fail, everyone sort of ended up doing the same things, half-consciously assigning chores to themselves and making sure that everything that needed to get done actually got done. 

Gale was on cooking duty, as he was every night, a duty he would probably never sacrifice. Subject myself to the culinary whims of the likes of Lae’zel? Or worse, Wyll? No thank you, he’d once told her when she suggested he let someone else cook. I’d sooner attempt to sink my teeth into a live worg than suffer one of their dubious dishes.

Dani had thought about suggesting Shadowheart as a potential replacement for cooking duty, but Shadowheart probably considered a bottle of wine and half a pastry as dinner. And besides, Gale was a good cook and no one was complaining. Once, he'd turned a few smoked links of sausage, some cheese wedges, and some fruit into a damn charcuterie board. Lae'zel had mocked him for it, but Dani had never had anything so fancy in her life, even in the city.

Wyll had gotten the firewood for the fire and was already back on the prowl for more sticks and bits of wood for later that night. They’d only recently discovered that Wyll was a duke’s son—specifically Duke Ulder Ravengard’s son—and the knowledge made so much of his behavior make sense for Dani. Like the fact that when it was his turn to do the dishes, they usually came back half-clean, because Wyll’s version of a clean dish was dunking a dirty plate into the river until it came back looking free of crumbs. Or the fact that his shirt was actively unraveling and he barely seemed to notice. Or the fact that when Dani opened their drink chest—because of course she liked to keep things organized, Brann would have killed her if she let her stuff just rattle around in various containers in camp—he had to have a thorough discussion with Gale about what was on the menu before choosing his wine to pair with it.

Oh Wyll. He made her laugh. At least he could be relied upon for a good story at night, something he and Dani could talk about for hours.

Dani’s gaze flicked over to Astarion, who had already set up his tent and was lounging against his faded, embroidered pillows, reading a book with a telltale bored expression. He abjectly refused to do any camp chores on principle. He didn’t eat regular food, he didn’t need the warmth of the fire, and the one time Gale suggested he clean the dishes (since no one in camp liked to do the dishes and it was only fair that they all take turns), he threatened to toss the dishes in a wooden crate and float it down the Chionthar. Out of sight, out of mind, he’d said. Shadowheart had done the dishes that night instead. 

But he did his share, too, Dani reminded herself. As a high elf and a vampire, the man didn’t sleep. As long as he wasn’t hunting for blood to keep himself strong, he was their most reliable watchman. Strange as it seemed to trust a vampire, she slept better at night knowing he'd be keeping watching for most of it. Though she wished he would stop reading the Necromancy of Thay at night. They were all starting to hear the whispers from that damned book by now.

“Hey, Dan.” Karlach walked by with one of the camp crates hefted easily on her shoulder. Scratch followed at her heels, tongue lolling out, happy to get some exercise following Karlach around. “Where do you want this?”

“Which one is that?"

"Spare clothes, I think."

"Oh, right” She looked around the camp for a moment before shrugging. “Just set it next to the library rock. I should probably go through it. We’re low on funds.”

“You got it, soldier. Want me to do the same with the armor and weapons?”

“Sure. I’ll see what needs sorting.”

She watched Karlach walk off, Scratch once more trailing behind. Karlach set down the crate before crossing to the other side of camp to grab some other heavy thing. No matter where they set up camp, Karlach was there to heft things from one side to the other, helping everyone set up their spaces. Some of the companions had heavy belongings and Dani was glad she wasn’t the one having to haul stuff like Astarion and Shadowheart’s whole ass potted plants or Lae’zel’s whetstone or Gale’s ever growing book collection out of the magical chest of holding. Just tell me where to drop it, soldier, was her common refrain. Karlach was happy to move stuff around camp, especially if it meant escaping dish duty.

Although, the more Dani thought about it, the more she wondered why they weren’t asking Withers to just wave his hand and set everything up for them. Then again, she knew what he’d say if she asked him.

No.

Grumpy old bag of bones. She hoped he wasn’t lonely while half their camp was galavanting off on adventures. She wondered if anyone that stayed behind in camp talked to him. Half the time she sort of forgot he was there, he was so quiet. 

Pushing that thought aside for now, she went over to the library rock and sat down in the chair beside it. The big old rock served as the camp desk, more or less, heaped with books and maps and notes she (and Gale) had collected and used to plan their next move. It had sort of become her space, even though anyone could use it. 

Opening one of the crates that Karlach had set down by the rock, she started to sort the items into three piles. Stuff she wanted to keep, just to have extra supplies, stuff she wasn’t sure she wanted to do yet, and stuff she wanted to sell. She’d reorganize everything back in their respective crates once she was done, but she wanted to see everything she had to work with and plan out what needed to stay and what needed to go.

Old habits died hard. She’d learned to keep up with her belongings and travel light when she was part of the Merry Rovers. Now, out here as a ragtag band of adventurers, the last thing they needed was stuff to weigh them down. It was much, much better to have coin instead.

So every night, or almost every night, she went through all their extra stuff and made sure everything was organized in the correct boxes, crates, and chests in the camp. It made everyone's lives easier, and she found plenty of things to sell for a bit more coin in her pockets.

She could never have too much gold, after all.

As she was frowning over some of their extra weapons, daggers and javlins and the like, Lae’zel came over to stand nearby, arms cross. “What do you intend to do with all of those weapons?” she asked.

“I haven’t decided yet.” She looked up at Lae’zel. “I don’t think anyone needs a replacement weapon, do they?”

“A replacement? No. I’ve made sure that everyone’s current weapons are sharp and ready for battle in the morning,” she said. “Except for your rapier. I will take that now, if you don’t mind.” She said it not as a polite suggestion, but as if she expected no argument. She even held out her hand expectantly.

Dani reached behind her and pulled her rapier from her sheathe, handing it over hilt-first. This was Lae’zel’s preferred chore, and Dani wasn’t about to argue. T’chk, she’d say. What do you know about maintaining a sharp edge on your blades? Dani’s answer was absoutely nothing. She barely knew how the spin the grindstone. 

But Lae’zel abhorred bad weapon maintenance, and she also trusted absolutely no one with her grindstone, so she was inevitably the one who kept everyone’s weapons sharp, oiled up, and clean. She might have sharp words to say to everyone for the state of their weapons and armor, but Dani was endlessly grateful she kept them all battle-ready.

“Do you need any extra blades?” Dani asked. “If not, I was planning on just selling the lot. Maybe keep a few daggers on hand.”

“One can never have too many daggers,” Astarion said across the way, turning a page in his book. Sometimes it was uncanny how good his hearing was.

Lae’zel rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored him. “Do what you want with your blades. I will return shortly.”

She left Dani to her sorting. Dani crossed her legs beneath her in the chair and began packing away the things she wanted to keep. As she was folding the extra shirts, Shadowheart walked up with an armful of fabric. Clothes, blankets, even tent material.

“Does any of that need washing?” Shadowheart asked. “I’m about to take this batch to the river, now that we have a bit more soap to work with.”

Dani had been surprised when Shadowheart first took on the laundry as her preferred chore. But when she’d asked Shadowheart about it, Shadowheart merely made a grimace. Is that so surprising? No one else in the camp can be trusted to do it properly, and I absolutely refuse to stay in a camp that reeks of goblin guts and swamp water. Underwear was off the table, though. Everyone still had to clean their own underwear. 

Dani had pointed out that she, Astarion, and Gale were all pretty decent at keeping up with their clothes, but Shadowheart wouldn’t be swayed. The only downside to Shadowheart on laundry duty is that once something was dry, she just tossed it into your tent without folding it. I said I’d clean it, not fold it. I’m not your housekeeper. 

Dani supposed she couldn’t complain. She hated doing the laundry. It had been her job for as long as she was tall enough to reach down into a washbasin, at least when she was living with her mother. She hated how raw it made her hands and how wrinkled her skin would be from all the water and soap. She hated the smell of lye and she hated having to wring out all the water and she hated how it made her back ache. So if anyone in camp wanted to do laundry, and all she had to do was fold her own clothes, she was happy to let them do it.

“It’s all clean enough for now,” Dani said. “You look like you have plenty to work with.”

“Suit yourself,” Shadowheart said, and disappeared toward the river. 

Dani leaned back with her elbow on the back of the chair, surveying the camp again thoughtfully. There was Gale, bending over the cookpot on the fire, conjuring a mage hand to hold the spoon. There was Wyll, coming back with an armload of branches and sticks, whistling a tune as he went. There was Karlach, setting down a straw target dummy and doing a brief bit of shadowboxing before patting the dummy on its canvas shoulder and walking away. There was Lae’zel, running Dani’s blade against her whetstone and testing the point with a finger, frowning at her work. There was Shadowheart, kneeling at the edge of the river, scrubbing suds into one of their shirts, her back to all of them. And there was Astarion, lounging at his tent like a Calishite pasha, seemingly absorbed in his reading.

Strange to think that just over two weeks ago, her entire world was held within the walls and streets of Baldur’s Gate, her family made up of a few roving bards and her mother. Now her world was expanded, exploding out into the wilderness along the Chionthar and beyond, and full of seemingly endless danger. But there were moments, like now, where everything just felt sort of…right. 

In just a handful of days, she’d come to trust these six companions with her life and more. They argued, teased, and poked at each other, but they also had each others’ backs in battle and even here in camp. They helped maintain each others’ weapons, and cooked, and washed the laundry, and kept watch, and checked in on one another, in their own little ways. 

Soon, once Gale announced that dinner was ready, they’d gather around the fire to eat. And there they’d bicker and joke and laugh and get on one another’s nerves, like they did every night. Dani and Wyll might tell stories while the others listened, or Dani might play a bit on her fiddle, assuming she had finished eating first and the others wouldn’t be too annoyed at her music. Or Karlach would try to tell corny jokes and Gale would laugh harder than anyone else at them, whether they were clever or not, and even Lae’zel would crack a smirk at one or two of them. Then they'd argue about whose turn it was to do the dishes before breaking off to go to their tents and get some sleep.

Such was the way they lived these days. Like a strange little family.

The thought gave her pause. Family. Two weeks ago that word encompassed a total of five people: her mother, Brann, Liara, Kellen, and Paraxxel. Now it included Gale, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Shadowheart, and Lae’zel.

Oh. And Scratch, of course. Couldn’t forget him.

As if on cue, Scratch bounded over and sat himself right by Dani’s leg, setting his head on her knee. She smiled down at him and gave him plenty of good scratches around the ears before glancing around the camp again.

Yeah, they were all family. For better and for worse. Even Withers, she decided. Maybe it wouldn’t last, she didn’t know. But she knew right now that she wouldn’t have it any other way.

——————————————————————————

BONUS - Other Tav duties

I generally think that all the companions kind of fall into the same chores for most Tavs/Durges, with a bit of shifting depending on who is or isn't present. So with that in mind...

Ardynn's main chore would be hunting and gathering herbs for Gale to cook with. Honestly, their group probably eats the best out of all my Tavs because she also knows how to cook and she makes sure they always have fresh food, if she can manage it. Obviously the Shadow Cursed Lands make that task a lot harder.

Invi struggles to figure out what chore she's best at, so she just does whatever someone else doesn't want to do. That doesn't mean she's good at it. She's officially banned from doing laundry or dishes because her lightning magic doesn't mix well with water, and she may have ruined a few shirts or lost utensils down the river even when she keeps the lightning magic in check.

Freyr is the Firewood Guy. But in that "hauls a whole ass log into camp and chops it up while shirtless, occasionally rips wood apart with his bare hands" kind of way. Do not trust him to cook or clean.

[non-stop-imagines]

Part Three: Friends to Lovers

One Two Part Three Four

Pairing: Mick Schumacher x Freelance Journalist Black Fem!Reader

Word Count: 3.3k (w/ some social media au)

Warnings: A lot of real cute stuff, feelings are finally shared, ya know just real fluffy 🥰

A/N: Here's the next part! It was nice to write once I got into a flow. I just started a new job so this definitely helped me come down from those jitters. Anyway, I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you ALL so much for the feedback and likes and reblogs, you are all such sweeties and hope to get to know more of you as I continue writing! Love you all!!💖💛💖💛

A/N 2: All of the pictures used for the smau portions are all from pinterest and are not my own product.

Tagged: @thisismeracing @omgsuperstarg @copper-boom @mirrorball-6

Masterlist

When You Realized

   You knew in Monza. P6. Well, you could feel it before the P6. It was in your desire to be near him. Since you were, of course, at the race for journalistic purposes, whenever you had to leave to get an interview, your heart would pang once out of his presence. It was in the way you subconsciously searched for his eyes and willed them to look for you just so you could see the award-winning smile he flashed at you whenever you two seemed to lock eyes. It was the terribly lewd thoughts that came to mind when he had his race suit hanging at his waist and his fireproofs worked to contain his body, or even as you watched him pull up the zipper on his race you and swiftly secure the Velcro strap at his neck. It was the immense fear you felt the moment he climbed into the car, because all you wanted was him there safe with you and him going out to drive on a track nicknamed "The Temple of Speed" doesn't exactly give you that piece of mind.

But then came the P6. The excitement. Seeing him jump out of that car, his warm dampness when he came over to hug you before going to celebrate with his team. Once the possibility of realizing your love for Mick became an option, the relief you felt tells your brain that accepting this feeling is what you needed.

   “I know that smile.” You jump at Susie’s sudden presence next to you, bringing you back to the full-scale celebration going on in the garage, not just for Mick’s comeback P6, but also, and probably more specifically, for Lewis’ race win.

   “What?” You answer was softer compared to the noise around you as your eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

   “I know that smile.” Susie chuckle and flashed her bright smile at you when she saw that your facial expression didn’t change, then proceeded to explain. “When Toto and I were a few months into dating, there would be times when I was thinking about him, casually, and I would walk by a mirror to see an absolutely goofy grin on my face. Every time, without fail. That's when I couldn't deny that I was probably more in love with him than I thought." Susie looks towards Toto, who was waiting for her so they could both go and join the podium merriment as pair, then turns back to you, briefly wrapping her arm gingerly around your shoulders, rubbing the one furthest from her. "So, yes. I know that smile." She pats both of your shoulders with her hands before going to join her husband. After the confirmation of what you were feeling all along, you mentally float through the podium ceremony and find yourself back in front of the garage as the team took pictures. You're brought back to Earth when a large, warm hand takes yours, causing you to look up and see smiling blue eyes and a toothy grin that you wish would stay plastered on the face in front of you.

   "Come get in the picture!" You follow the gentle pull to the crowd of people behind a sign declaring Lewis' P1 and Mick's P6. At first all you could do was watch Mick as he smiled and cheered with the team for the pictures, then look over to you. This simple movement subconsciously prompts you to place a light kiss a few centimeters away from the corner of his mouth, missing your initial target of his cheek and really not caring, then bring yourself to his ear to minimize your need to yell over the noise.

   "I'm so proud of you." You speak and then back up, an adoring look settling on your face that is then met with a beaming smile from Mick. 

   "When we're done, come with me to facetime my mom, okay?" This was not the response you expected, but you were so glad it was the one you got. But what you didn't realize when you so joyfully nodded in agreement was that this would be the beginning of Mick getting some sense knocked into him.

ynthewriter

Liked by mercedesamgf1, mickschumacher and 36,893 others

ynthewriter Grazie Italy, I had a magical time! ✨🇮🇹 Congrats to @ mickschumacher, @lewishamilton, and the entire @ mercedesamgf1 team for the PHENOMENAL race result! Also, it was great meeting you and talking to you @susie_wolff ❤️

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mickshum47 Your last article was AMAZING sweetie!!! mickyn4L Look at how happy they are when they're with each other 🥰 mickschumacher See, good luck charm 🍀 ↳ silverarrows44 Just kiss already 🙄 susie_wolff It was great speaking to you too. I hope to see you at more races in the future!

When He Realized

   For Mick, realizing he was in love with you took a bit of time, until after Suzuka to be exact. He was so focused on his job, having to do the sim, participating in practices more now that the end of the season was approaching, that he didn't realize how much he talked about you. To his mom, sister, friends. Even Angie and Sebastian got an earful about you a few times. But, specifically when it came to talking to his mom and sister about you, at a certain point his adoration began morph into distress. Distress because he wasn't able to see you at all for a week. Distress that he wasn't able to hear your voice for three days straight. Distress that because you were on his mind all the time, he crashed the car in the sim twice in one session. He thought about it for a moment when his mom suggested that he was probably in love with you, but eventually wrote it off, still excusing his and your behaviors as being really good friends. It wasn't until he took a sibling trip with Gina to Los Angeles, an idea concocted by Gina and Corrina, that the notion stuck, which brought him to this moment now. Parked in front of your apartment building, Angie in the back seat of the rental car, and Mick hesitating to send a text to you for you to come down. Gina practically forced him out of the vacation rental they were staying in, threatening for him to not come back until, and he quotes, "You have told her you love her, and I have a sister-in-law in the works, idiot." So here he sat, stalling, in this parking lot, at 8 in the morning. He knew you would be up because you've been working on a ongoing season culminating article that, as the season goes on and more surprises happen, gets more and more stressful so you decided that if you start in the morning, by lunchtime you'll be extremely stressed but have time to come down from it by the time you go to bed. The text stared at him, daring him to send it, until he does. He presses the paper airplane shaped button then sets his phone down. Two minutes later he was opening the driver side door to get out greet you. He watched as you, clad in big comfy sweats, a hand cut cropped oversized t-shirt and Crocs, locs piled up on top of your head, beelined to the furry face sticking out of the rear driver side window.

When it was finally said

   "My Angie Baby! How ya doin', little girl?" You scratch and nuzzle her face, winning multiple licks from her before finally turning to Mick, dreamily smiling at the scene before him. You approach him for a hug which he pulls you into, cradling your head into him with one hand and wrapping his other arm around to your back, encasing your body as you wrapped your arms around his waist. "Hi."

   "I thought you could use a break." Mick says, finally pulling from the hug, now able to analyze how tired you were from your face.

   "That would be heavenly, but I don't know. I just wish I could get a bit further into it." Your focus moved to the apartment building in front of you, brain racking to figure out what you could write next, but coming up empty.

   "All the more reason to take a break." He was only in this moment with you, oblivious to the fact that he had nothing else past this moment planned.

   A huff of acceptance and relief preceded your answer. "That's true. Okay. I think it would be nice to get out of that apartment anyway. Did you have something in mind?"

   No, he didn't. Didn't think this far ahead, but he needed an answer. "Let's go hiking." Your face shifted to a content pout when you agree with the idea, but then think of a small annoyance.

   "The hiking around here is all tourist territory. It gets irritatingly crowded." You massage your temples at even the thought of the hike to the Hollywood sign, then squint at Mick who gives you a knowing smirk. 

   "I never said around here. Let's go up north a bit." He uses his hand to prop himself up against the rented Jeep, proud of his outrageous suggestion.

   "It would be a multi hour trip to the first decent state park with a hiking trail." You cross your arms, challenging his idea even though you would want nothing more than to be riding in a car with him for multiple hours.

   "That's why there's 24 hours in a day. If we leave now, we'll get there by noon." He begins to tap something in his phone, and the thrill of the moment makes your head spin.

   "Woah, okay, uh, give me… 30 minutes. Go get gas or something. I'll be right back." You jog back to the building, Mick watching you, smiling at first, then going stone faced, realizing he need to figure out a destination.

   Four hours and a mile and a half on foot later, you, Mick, and a roaming Angie were making your way down a trail at Henry W. Coe State Park. Very little had been said between you two as most of the action so far had been the admiring of the trees with orange, red, and gold colored leaves, expected of these trees in early October, listening to the sounds of nature, and gently spoken German words from Mick to the dog serpentining in front of you two as to keep her in check.

   "You're gonna need to help me learn some German." You break the silence that surrounded you two as you walked slowly through the autumn scenery.

   "I can do that. I think you'd enjoy it." He whistles at Angie who was straying a bit too far.

   "I think I would too. I want to be able to impress Miss Corrina." Your walk turned into a single skip before you continued crunching on leaves.

   "No need. She loves you." He glances at you then grins at the ground, kicking the debris in front of him. 

   "What? Really? You're serious?" Still walking you looked at him wide eyed, then your lips break out into a spritely smile.

   "Dead serious. Asks about you all the time." This small bit of information obviously affected you more than normal, the cathartic happiness causing you to have to hold back tears threatening to drop down your face.

   "I'm glad." A silence falls over the two of you. That familiar, comfortable silence that tends to fall over you guys when hanging out alone, but you both could feel a twinge of tension that's not usually there.

   "How's the article coming?" Mick fills the silence this time, eyes still watching Angie ahead of you two.

   "Fine, but with how the season is going, I will probably have no choice but to finish it at the last minute." You corral locs that moved to the top of your shoulders back behind your back, adjusting the silk head scarf wrapped around them. "It's crazy to see Fernando ahead in the drivers' championship, though. Especially after Red Bull's strong season start." You reach down to scratch behind Angie's ear who was walking in step with you.

   "Yeah, I see both championships being decided within the last to races." You nod contemplatively to Mick's words, missing his glance toward you, but still being able to detect that new tension. You guys keep walking until you reach a clearing in the trees, a large lake visible but still a ways away from where you guys were.

   "Mick, it feels like there's something more you want to talk about. You don't seem as relaxed as usual." You turn around to fully face Mick, who initially whistled to his dog that was straying to far again, but then looked at you with dark, heartfelt, nervous eyes. "Mick, what is it?" Neither of you shy away from the others gaze, waiting for someone to say something.

   "I'm in love with you." Mick's words were simple yet abrupt, shocking both of you. 

   "Oh." You wanted to say more. You wanted to say that the feeling was mutual, but that was the only word your brain could come up with. Well, not the only one. "When…?"

   "I guess I've felt it for a while now, but I really only placed the feeling a week or so ago." He paused for a second to gather his thoughts. "I would talk about you all the time. Think about you all the time." He takes a deep breath and then smiles wide. "I'm glad I told you because I think I would have exploded if I didn't."

   You first giggle at his concluding words, then throw your head back in relief. When you tip your head back forward, Mick's smile was still on his face, but it showed his confusion to your physical response. "I love you, too." Mick's full smile returns, but now it was his turn to ask the one-word question. 

   "When…?" He begins to subconsciously move toward you, closing a gap present between you two neither of you noticed until now.

   "Monza. Susie clued me in when I had a stupid looking grin on my face, and I had no choice but accept how I was feeling." You welcome Mick's hands grazing your waist, wanting to see his eyes up close, truly relish the way he was looking at you. Like you were the Mona Lisa being displayed for the first time.

   "Why didn't you say something?" He pulled you closer, moving a loc off of your shoulder.

   "It didn't seem like the right thing to do. I wanted to keep what we had. I was... scared." Your head moves in the direction Mick's hands guide it, gazes now only on each other, making you realize you were looking at everything but him when you were talking.

   "You didn't have to be scared." He voice was just over a whisper, lips a breath away.

   "Well now I'm not." Your pouted lips curl into a grin.

   "Good." His eyes move rapidly around your face, admiring every single detail. "Now what?" His thumb caresses the side of your face.

   "What do you mean 'Now what'? Kiss me." And that he does. The kiss was slow, sensual. At first just lips connected, still trying to get the nose positioning set while your arms settled around his waist and both of his hands snaked up to cradle your face, but once you both were situated, the kiss deepened. Tongues tangoing rather than fighting, you guys taking turns sucking in the others bottom lip. You guys probably could've continued for longer, but a whimper, then a wet nose touching your hand, then pressure on both of your guys' feet broke the lip locking. You both look down and see Angie looking up at both of you, tongue out panting hard. 

    "I think she's telling us it's time to leave." Both you and Mick look down at the smiling doggy face looking up at you two.

   "Just one more." You hold your index finger up to the dog and go in for a another more playful peck on the lips, getting another whine from the ground. "Okay, okay! Dang, girl you're bossy. Fine, let's go." You pat your thigh and take a few jogging strides in the direction back to the car, stopping and calling Angie when you realized she wasn't following.

   "You suck, you know that." Mick receives panting from his dog in response to the comment. "You be a good girl, that's your future mom over there." And with that he sends her off to follow you, blissfully watching as Angie trots next to you.

   While a 4-hour car ride each way wasn't exactly Mick's smartest idea, it all seemed to work out. After walking for, what surprisingly didn't seem like, 2 and a half hours, you let Mick take a nap in the car for about an hour, alternating between sitting in the car with him and Angie, jotting down notes for your article in the notebook you brought, and playing around with Angie in the clearing near the parking lot. Eventually, after a long, uneventful, 4-hour drive, you guys were back to your apartment building. Mick had to admit, though, that he would miss looking to his side to see you asleep in the passenger seat, mouth slightly agape. He gently shook you awake.

   "You're home." Your brain takes a moment to wake up, glad that the first thing you get to see when waking up was Mick's smiling baby blue eyes.

   "What time is it?" You yawn and minimally stretch then begin to gather your things.

   "It's just getting to 9pm." Mick watches your every move, like if he looked away all of this would turn out to just be a dream.

   "Oh…" You chew the inside of your bottom lip, your thinking face making his chest hurt. "I know it's not that late, but I wouldn't mind you guys staying the night. If that okay with you and Gina, of course. I know this is supposed to be a sibling trip…"

   "Let me show you something really quick." Mick picks up his phone from the center console in the car and begins typing, then sets it back down, face up, displaying his text and bouncing dots below.

Mick

Is it okay if I just stay with YN tonight? We're just getting back from hiking

Gina

I wouldn't let you inside this rental of you came back now anyway ❤️

   "This is why I love your sister." You guys laugh at the short interaction as you gather items from the rental car, grab Angie and head inside. Mick insisted on carrying your bag so in return it was you who was holding Angie's leash while you guys waited for an elevator. Your mind was in its own world until you felt Mick's arms slither around your waist, pulling you back into his chest, and his face nuzzle into your neck.

   "Let's go to Australia." His words were muffled due to the location of his face, so you, understandably, looked at him like he was insane.

   "What?" The elevator ding and you all got on, Mick guiding you with his hand on your lower back, wanting to keep physical contact with you for as long as possible. You press the button for the 4th floor then turn to Mick, whose gaze on you felt so intimate, for a moment you felt so raw and naked that your initial thought was to find some clothes to cover yourself ASAP, but you came back to the present, and realized you were in fact clothed, and continued with your questioning. "Why should we go to Australia?" The elevator pinged once you guys were on your floor, and as you guys stepped out into the hallway, Mick intertwines his fingers with yours and you lead him and Angie down to your apartment.

   "For our first date. I want to teach you how to surf." You nod and grin to yourself, since you were walking slightly in front of him.

   "First date? Boy, did we do this out of order.” You giggle, then reluctantly pull your hand from Mick’s in order to unlock your door. “Okay, fine. Australia it is.”

    "Good." Mick grins satisfyingly to himself, watching you as you walk into your apartment and let Angie off her leash so she could explore the space. He then walked in and shut the door behind him making a beeline toward you, ready to get back to having his lips on yours.

ynthewriter

Liked by ginachumacher, pierregasly, and 62,847 others

ynthewriter Some friends came by and whisked me away on an adventure 🍂

view 10,492 comments

justaninchident2 She got his sister AND Pierre hooked? Good for her. 😭 drive2fast Is it just me or is this giving soft launch? ↳ mickdonalds47 It's just you, homie 😎

mickschumacher

Liked by lewishamilton, ynthewriter and 847,628 others

mickschumacher Got to spend some time with two of my favorite girls ❤️

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lovelylewis44 We're being punked, right? mvlh144 First Pierre now Lewis, there is def something all the drivers know that we don't ginaschumacher I'm glad you took my locking you out threat seriously 🥰 ↳ ynthewriter Your threat was greatly appreciated 🫡 ↳ mickschumacher Wait, I was the one that was threatened... ↳ ynthewriter Hush, my little sunflower 😘

[legacyshenanigans]

Hello ~ first of all I want to apologize if my English is not great it's not my first language 😅

I really enjoy your posts, I'm looking forward to the next ones! Your Marvolo is awesome, thanks for this new obsession 🤣

I NEED SOME DRAMA

Can you write about MC finding out that Marvolo is a muggle-killing psychopath who feeds body parts to his snake?

Thanks 😁

Hello! :) Your English is fine, don't worry! 😊

And thank you so much! 💖

I really like the idea of this ask, so I will write a little something for it, I didn't particularly want to delve into that side of things (MC finding out too much about that stuff) but when I read it something was floating around so here it is 😁

(Please take this as a stand alone piece and not part of this smutty little series I have going on haha)

Marvolo and MC🐍

TW: Mentions of blood, dead bodies, the cutting up of bodies, this one's a tad dark I guess.

MC had been observing the back door of a building in some run down old town she'd seen Marvolo going into, she watched for hours, seeing people come and go, some looked like normal everyday folk, some looked like obvious dark wizards, she couldn't help but wonder why Marvolo had been in there for so long, eventually, under the cover of the disillusionment charm she snuck inside.

The smell was grim, it was a dank place, there was a long corridor, doors everywhere, the sounds of muffled screams and groans coming from all angles, she made her way to a staircase leading down to a basement area, seeing yet another door in the corner, it was even more grim in there, cold too, buckets of blood, bodies in bags, chains on the walls and floors, MC couldn't help but bring her hand to her mouth, what the hell was this place? Her head snapped to the side after she heard Marvolos voice coming from the room as someone was leaving with bags dripping with blood in their hands, she snuck into that room seeing Marvolo next to a dark wizard, and a large table with a dead body on it in the centre of the room, Marvolo stood there, a cigarette hanging from his lips, before he spoke to the wizard next to him.

Marvolo: Hand me the Bone Saw.

Wizard: *Hands him a small saw*

Marvolo: Pfft *chuckles* No you fucking idiot.. The BIG one, I'm cutting off a leg, not a damn finger..

Wizard: Oh..Sorry *chuckles*

MC came out of her disillusionment, which made Marvolo and the man look over, the man whipped out his wand, Marvolo grabbed his arm, not taking his eye's from MC.

Marvolo: Leave her..

Wizard: But-

Marvolo: Shut up..Leave.

The Wizard left the room, looking at MC with a nasty glare as he did so..Marvolo stared at her, with a strangly calm face.

Marvolo: Well..Not the place I'd WANT you to see me..But here we are.

MC: What the fuck is this place?

Marvolo: Work..Thats all you need to know.

MC: Marvolo, you're in here cutting up a dead body.

Marvolo: Its Rereks feeding night *smirks*

MC: (?!) Is that all you're going to say?

Marvolo: *sighs as he flicks his cigarette into a bucket of god knows what next to him* MC, we shouldn't talk here..Go to my home and wait for me..

MC: Mar-

Marvolo: Please...

MC gave him a confused and concerned look as she ran out of there... Once at the Gaunt home, she entered his room and sat on his bed, not quite believing what she'd just seen, Rerek raised his head, looking over at her, she looked up at him, a small frown on her face. He seemingly hissed something at her, not that she could understand. An hour or so went by when Marvolo entered the room carrying a large bag, he looked at her before looking over at Rerek. He placed the bag down, taking out a leg and placing it in the vivarium.

Rerek: Are you not worried about her seeing this?

Marvolo: *parseltongue* She saw alot more when she turned up at the den before...

Rerek: Oh..*hissy laugh* Well, this is certainly interesting, if I wasn't so hungry I'd listen in to this conversation..May I eat now?

Marvolo: *Parseltongue* Go ahead..

Rerek started to make work of the leg presented to him, making MC look away, Marvolo approached her as she sat on his bed, looking down at her. She looked up at him.

MC: So that's what you do for work?! Kill muggles?!

Marvolo: No actually..I just handle the money for the business..But when I need to get food for Rerek, I collect things other than money..Which you unfortunately saw.

MC: So you've never killed a muggle there yourself?

Marvolo: Not there, no.

MC: But you have in general?!

Marvolo: Why are you acting like this is brand new information? *narrows his eyes and smirks* You knew when we met I was dubious..Though, I always did try and hide THAT side of things from you atleast.

He stepped closely to MC, his body standing close between her legs as she sat, she couldn't help but bite her lip slightly..He leaned his head down a little closer to her.

Marvolo: Does this mean you don't want to play with me anymore? *wicked little grin*

MC: I...I dont know.

Marvolo: "I dont know" isn't good enough.

MC: Marvo- MMPH~

He planted a kiss on her lips while gripping hold of her chin, before pulling away slowly, looking into her eyes.

Marvolo: You may leave if you wish, I shan't stop you..But you'll be back *grins and whispers in her ear* I know you will *licks the side of her neck*

MC: *Quickly gets up and leaves*

Marvolo: *watching her leave, before he looks over at Rerek, who's now watching him, he gives Rerek a wicked little smirk*

~

[arabaka]

━━━★ ALL WORK AND NO PLAY...

:*ੈ♡‧₊˚:･reigen arataka x fem!reader

【 cw 】 18+, edging, toy use (on you), overstimulation (you), reigen already came in his pants, unprotected sex, creampie 【 wc 】 1.3k

｡･:*:･ﾟ★ umm hi first fic here !! been writing for myself for a long ass time and got the bug to post >w> pls be nice. or don't and keep it to yourself >__0 i originally wrote this using she/her pronouns from the 3rd perspective but changed it to 2nd person since that's more common on tumblr eek so some stuff may be unedited lol

"I know sweetheart, but you gotta endure." His soothing words might have meant something if he was even looking at you but he couldn't be bothered to give your writing form a passing glance while typing away on his computer.

Biting your lip, you spasm and jerk on your spot on the freezing, long safe by his desk. You're folded over your knees with your ass in the air, face craned and your eyes dead set on Reigen. A trembling hand balled up in a fist tries to reach over to him for aid but finds none when he chooses instead to continue to edit a ghost out of yet another swindled client's photo."R-Reigen, p-please…" Your meek whimpers seemingly go unnoticed, his cold shoulder only making the relentless tingle on your clit more intoxicating. The chilled air nips at your most intimate parts, your folds shivering under a building film of your own juices. 

It’s only when you manage a grasp on the corner of his suit’s sleeve does he pay you a sliver of his attention. His eyes don’t linger on you for long as his hand hovers away from his mouse, taking up an inconspicuous pink remote and casually pressing down on one of its buttons. Instantaneously, you cry out, your voice soon giving way to the much louder buzzing resonating from the toy between your thighs. Your overworked bud convulses under the vibrations but your whimpers go unanswered. At every rumble, your clit cries for relief but the vibrator continues to rub your bud raw. When you open your mouth, attempts at his name drown in drool as your hole flutters, desperate for something more than the tail end of the vibrator currently nestled inside you.

“Need you Reigen… P-Please.” You plead in-between your panting, the searing hot coil in the pit of your stomach threatening to come undone any moment now. You're soaking wet at this point, overflowing into a nice little puddle on safe's silver surface. It's almost too much, your face building a thin film of sweat from the overwhelming tsunami waves of pleasure. He catches the glimmer of your slick from the corner of his eye, his chest tightening with his breath caught in his throat. His finger trembling over the mouse scroll button, he tries to resume his work but when the shaky whisper of his name, Arataka, dreamily floats off your tongue he has to heed your siren call.

Curling and tucking a finger just under your chin, raising your head, he gives you a once over. Glossed over eyes looking into his, your jaw slacks with ecstasy and he knows you're just inches away from reaching Heaven and he’s going to take you there. 

"C'mere." Reigen gently orders, giving a quick peck to your parted lips and he feels a throbbing twitch in his slacks when he watches you crawl over to him. Situating you on his lap, it's not long before your juices start to leak onto his slacks but they were already dirtied; he'd come once just from withholding your own orgasm. Leaning you against his desk, his aching member comes to throb just from the rub of your sweet cunt on his pelvis. “Let’s take care of this first, hm?” You can’t nod fast enough, taking your bottom lip between your teeth as the vibrator is removed, first from your clit and then from inside you. He moves so slowly, you would never know he’s been dying to plunge deep inside you from the get go. 

You're impatient and so is he but Reigen is going as fast as he can, hastily unbuckling his belt and popping loose the button of his slacks. He swears he sees hearts in your eyes when his cock springs forth, still damp from his own cum, and he visibly shudders when the fresh air hits his skin. “Ready?” 

Now’s his favorite part– watching your pussy sink down his fat girth, never once struggling even as he spreads you out. The burn is familiar, nice even, and he fills you up better than any toy ever could. “Never gets old.” Reigen grumbles to himself, hissing as the walls of your cunt cling to him, its ridges massaging his foreskin with relish. Your eyelids are heavy with euphoria and your lips are pressed together tight but a moan pops them open as the engorged tip of his penis runs against your cervix with ease. He’s decided the wait has been too much and he starts to thrust into you, first slowly and with the low tilt of his hips but it’s too intoxicating for him to keep going at that speed. He needs more and he needs it now.

And besides, he's earned it hasn't he? He's waited long enough for you, for you to decide that the edging had run it's course. He knew it would be hell, watching you wriggle and squirm but it's what you wanted. He thought you were kind of mean for this. But you'd make it up to him. You always did.

Smacking your ass, Reigen digs his fingernails into your plush seat, anchoring you to him as he bucks wildly into your sopping wet heat. You have no choice but to squirm and lurch forward, pressing your body flush against his while your babbling moans tickle the shell of his ear. You bury your head in the crook of his neck, nipping at what little skin you could get to. He huffs hot exhales along the back of your neck, treating himself to the tantalizing view of your jiggling backside. “God, you’re so good.” His words ride shockwaves down your spine as you continue to feel the full force of his thrusts all the way to your core. 

Shutting his eyes tight, Reigen can feel his orgasm building up at the base of his shaft. He can feel you coming undone as well, your delectable cunt squeezing tighter with every movement. All the edging has made you sensitive, your walls clinging to him like a vice and spasming as he hits your cervix over and over and over again. You're drunk, sloppy and desperate, on his cock; he thinks you look like a dream. He wishes he had his phone at hand to take a picture. 

“R-Reigen…” Managing the strength, you pull away from his neck and stare at him through half-lidded eyes. “P-Please. Cum inside me.” 

It doesn’t matter that he’s heard those words countless times before. They light a fire in him all the same, his heartbeat thunderously shooting up as he jerks haphazardly into you. Wetting his thumb with spit, he swipes circles around your puffy clit, immediately seeing the effects with the convulsion of your hips. A hand comes to cup your chin, the pads of his digits pressing deep against your cheeks until your lips jut out in a pucker. You look so good, all fucked out and ready to burst, he thinks to himself as he captures your lips in a fiery hot kiss, ravishing your mouth with his tongue. He swallows all your moans, every squeak of his name until the only thing you can manage to say is “I’m cumming, I’m cumming!” 

His balls tighten and his cock swells, forcing loaded strings of his cum deep inside you while continuing to lap up every noise you give him. Tasty. Pulling away, he sets his sights where your hips meet. He’s mesmerized, watching strands of cum break and settle in a pool on his pelvis. You love how clearly you can see him drink up your joined bodies and you giggle, albeit breathlessly, and then murmur against his lips in a sweet kiss, “Thanks for indulging me. Felt good, right?”

He's spent. “Yeah, but that was torture. Having to pretend to ignore you took a lot out of me, you know that?” Still inside you, his cock bobs and it won’t be long before the blood rushes to his member once more. “Can we go again?”

[randomfoggytiger]

X-Files Collector's Fic: Cleaning Out the Vineyard House (Poll Results 2nd)

This list was inspired by this poll-- 1st part here~.

(**Note**: I'll edit out errors later when no one's looking.)

Loose chronological order below~ 

raspberrycoffeecake's Vineyard-Haven

""But he turns back toward the sea, retracts his arms, and wraps them around his knees, closing in on himself.

“I came out here once the year after Samantha disappeared,” he says in an even tone. He’s still looking out at the waves, and she wonders if he’s talking to her or to himself. “It was just a normal summer morning. My father was upstairs in his office, writing letters, making phone calls, ignoring us like he always did. My mother made me a sandwich to take with me to the baseball field, as if there had always been just one child to make sandwiches for. As if Sam was just a dream I had, as if she had never existed. And I finally decided that I couldn’t stand the denial. I couldn’t keep pretending anymore.""

Post Paper Hearts Mulder whisks Scully to Martha's Vineyard. She supports him as he processes his memories; and insists they start a relationship when it won't be based in trauma.

@syntax6's (Gossamer, FFN, Omni) Mulder 1998

""He opened his eyes and looked at her over the flames. "They say the ocean has no memory."

She licked her thumb and scanned the paltry breaking surf. "I guess I can see that. The tide comes in, sweeps everything away and washes out again, only to reappear a few hours later. It makes the ocean seem immutable, as though no outside force can change it."

"And change equals memory?"

"Sure. Every memory changes you.""

Pre-Triangle Mulder sells his father's Vineyard house because of the expenses wracked up during FTF. He and Scully share their beach disappointments; and they compare his height to the former scratches on his childhood wall.

Chimerical1975's Regular People

""Grocery shopping with Mulder was something of an experience. It turned out that he was a creature of immense habit with definite likes and dislikes. Since she'd barged in on him, she offered to cook whatever he liked and he put up surprisingly little resistance to the offer. In fact, he revealed that macaroni and cheese was his favorite thing in the world. But only homemade--he had to be close to starving to eat the stuff that came in the blue box. She was amused that such simple comfort food was something he craved, not to mention greatly relieved because it was something that she actually knew how to make. If he'd wanted ratatouille, she would have been in big trouble.""

AU-- TGTSC Scully's California flight was canceled; so she surprises Mulder at the Vineyard where he is cleaning out his father's house. They whack down yard weeds, move each other with respect and admissions on both their parts-- romantically and not living a normal life together-- and conclude their unresolved romantic tensions.

Folieadeux's Cyclone

""Closing the door behind him, he slid off his jacket and laid it on the hall bench.He'd promised himself that he would not take too much time doing this,that he would be quick and efficient, without unnecessary emotions. Just like she'd do it, like she had done it when it had been her turn.

// He sat in the hallway, his back propped against the wall, watching her. It was late spring and the yearly housecleaning was in full force. The scene was misleading in its normalcy. A woman in an apron and a freshly washed house dress ripping sheets from a little girl's twin bed, shaking puffs of dust in the air that floated in the sunshine before disappearing to wherever those particles went. Her jaw was set tight and her face was determined. Only twin paths of tears betrayed her calm exterior.

He kept silent, a skill he was beginning to hone as the weeks wore on and his sister didn't return. Every day the house grew more and more silent while they all pretended. What they were pretending was something he had yet to figure out. //""

Post Closure Mulder somberly packs up the Vineyard, apologizing to the house while battling morbid memories. He always felt he had to protect his mother: the woman who kept travel books but never traveled.

LuvTheBeez’s (mulderscreek) Packing

""Every object, every possession left in the house had been carefully wrapped and packed away only to spend the rest of its days in a dank storage room somewhere. These boxes contained once precious objects that no longer mattered to anyone, all of them things he'd looked at a million times but had never really seen. Things that had been carefully maintained, fastidiously dusted and polished, each holding a memory that was solely hers, that he could not share.""

Post Closure Mulder packs up Tena's house, frustrated that there were no more answers to be found. Scully drops in with comfort food; and both are glad she hadn't listened to his earlier denials and mild mandates.

OKayVal's 155 Words - Santa Claus, North Pole

""Dear Santa, I have been good. Please bring me a talking Crissy doll. And please bring my brother Fox a model rocket so he will be too busy to tease me. Thank you. Love Samantha Mulder.""

Post Closure Mulder soldiers on, cleaning out Tena's house. Samantha's "Dear Santa" letter guts him with guilt.

xraelynn’s (Gossamer) Illumination

""It’s good to see you, Mulder,” she said softly, taking a sip of her coffee. The smile in his eyes dimmed as he looked away.

“I, uh...I didn’t mean to run out of town on you,” he said quietly, his eyes fixed down on his coffee. “I just thought I...needed some time.”

Mulder’s face was smooth and calm now, but for days she hadn’t stopped seeing his expression of devastation and betrayal whenever she looked at him.

It turned out that she had needed some time too.""

Post Closure Mulder invites Scully out to the Vineyard, needing her company while he processes his losses and revelations.

@bohoartist's (Ao3) Unnamed Prompt

""Let me see!” she pleads, reaching for it, but he extends his arm just out of her reach.

“Oh not at all, Scully, this is way too incriminating.”

She sits back and pouts, sticking out her plump bottom lip and looking up at him through her lashes before quickly changing tactics and lunging at him.""  

Post Closure Scully rescues a picture of little toddler Mulder before her partner can destroy all of his family mementos.

Pattie's Sailor Spooky

""Besides, I wouldn't want to spoil your free time away from me."

His heart sank. He sat on the couch. After a long pause he told her the truth. "I just don't want to be alone, okay?"

Scully stopped filling the coffee maker and approached her partner.""

Post Closure Mulder doesn't want to be alone. Scully assures him he doesn't have to prove anything-- including making himself seasick by trying to bond with her.

@o6666666's (Ao3)

Untitled

""Martha’s Vineyard, he’d said, this weekend, and she’s already teased him that he ever thought it might be a hard sell. His Scully is made for the beach. Not least because her body is pink and freckled and cut from stone, but mostly because the ocean recognizes her at once—a Scully, one of its own—and she opens her heart to it like she does to her mother and small children, allowing her wild laugh and squeaky voice and a sort of space-taking that seems fundamentally opposite to the space-taking she does at work, with clipped tones, and where the littler she speaks, the more powerful she seems.

(By contrast: When he woke up this morning she had all the covers, and her arms were spread out like wings across the whole bed. “You cozy?” he’d whispered, sidling closer. She’d tucked him right in with her with a kiss to his nose. And doing the breakfast dishes together, he’d heard it—this dry little fart. She’d turned to him with wide, guilty eyes and he’d rat-tailed her, lightly, with the dish towel and whistled: “Scul-ly!”)""

Post Closure? Mulder takes Scully on a boating trip to the Vineyard-- and she boats, happily, like a crazy person.

Untitled

""Mulder, I can’t sail.”

He grinned. “Sure you can.” He was sure Scully knew the methodology of sailing. Perhaps Scully could sail like she could drive. When she was a little girl she could sail, and when she was six she accidentally hit Captain Scully in the head with the boom.

AU-- S9 Mulder bought Scully a boat for her 40th. The two go sailing while Maggie watches their son.

@scapegrace74-blog/scapegrace74's Pandora's Box

""He’s been at loose ends since his mother passed away, and she draws an invisible line around him, daring anyone else to cross it and touch his tender heart.  There are a million daily reminders of loss: calls from the family attorney, paperwork to sign, a father’s voice rising from a tour group outside the Hoover Building, “don’t wander too far away, Sam!”

So when he asks her to run this simple errand, she leaps at the chance to help."" 

Post Closure Scully finds an engagement ring in Mulder's things; and the two realize their weaknesses-- fear to take it to the next step for fear of guilt-tripping the other-- pale in comparison to their strengths.

@alienbaby-babymama/ABBM515‘s Potential

""Even though it had only been a few weeks since their partnership became an “official” partnership, Dana Scully would never have to be asked twice to spend a weekend by the water.

Mulder had mentioned in passing that he wanted to get his mother’s house prepared for sale. The place was big, required maintenance, and the memories engrained in the walls and floorboards of the house was not something he wanted to deal with. The property deserved love again. He just wasn’t sure he was the one to give it.""

Mulder and Scully-- still not dating post Closure-- sort out how to use Martha's Vineyard: a rental property so they can subsidize their IVF treatments.

@gabby-msr/ScullytoyourMulder/scullytoyourmulder993's

A Love Captured

""That night was special. In high school, I was the kid whose sister had gone missing. I guess it was some kind of curse. I was a bit of a pariah. Even on the baseball team,” he said, and he saw her frown in disapprobation.  

“But that night, it didn’t matter. We stayed on the diamond celebrating well into the night, the team and other people, too. Some people drank. I didn’t, I still had to drive myself home. People congratulated me.”

"I’m glad,” she told him, squeezing his hand. “I’m glad baseball brought you some happiness.”

“It did,” he said, but there was something sad about the way he said it.

“What is it?”

“My parents - they’ve never seen me play,” he admitted."" 

S8 Monica is trying to understand the late Agent Mulder. While snooping through his office, she finds memorabilia from his and Scully's vacation to the Vineyard post-Je Souhaite. Their trip was about him rediscovering and reinvigorating his past-- all of it: Samantha, his parents, Diana, and everything else-- with a newer, fresher start.

FatCat's Scully Pride

""Where's the car your mom rented? What did she get us, a convertible?" I grinned.

"Uh, no, it's not a convertible. It's over there." Scully pointed up the street toward a Toyota Corolla.

"Scully? A Corolla? I can't fit into a car that small comfortably."

"Uh, no, Mulder. Not the Corolla, the... erm... one in front of it."

I looked again and whistled. "A Cadillac Escalade? Your mom rented a Escalade for us?"

"She said something about it being handy to have with so many guests around." She couldn't meet my eyes. I knew she was embarrassed.

"Scully," I leaned down to force her to look at me. "Your mom told me about your Aunt Maeve. It's okay. I had some relatives just like her so I do understand.""

AU-- Mulder offers the Vineyard to Maggie's snobby relatives, good-naturedly hosting their get-together. The love bomb and a proposal is dropped; and Charlie fights Scully over her initial refusal.

WordsSpillFromMyOpenVeins_89's Weekend At Martha's Vineyard

""Less then ten minutes later, William was fast asleep on the floor and snoring with Ishy next to him.

Mulder pat the back of William's head, ran his hand down is back, feeling the rise and fall of his tiny chest.

"Oof. Don't know how much longer I'll be able to do this, bud. You're growing up", Mulder whispered against his floppy auburn hair.

Mulder reached out his right arm, to brace against the wall before taking the last two steps up to the second level of the Hamptons Style Bungalow.

Mulder carried William up to his bedroom, unlaced his converse sneakers and placed them on the floor, at the foot of the bed. Carefully covering William with the Van Gogh Starry Starry Night bedspread and tucking the edges under him, to keep him warm.""

AU-- S9 Mulder, Scully, Will, and their dog all vacation at Martha's Vineyard. While there, Mulder proposes; and all is chummy and famfic-y.

Enjoy!

[thegrimreaperisanerd]

hii i have a maybe somewhat difficult question:

how do you go about writing all of the police/detective stuff? I have no knowledge at all about that except having played the game a few times and watching bbc sherlock back when that was a thing.

I have so many cool kimharry things in my mind that i need to get on paper but i don't know how to involve all the cop stuff in a natural way because i don't know anything about it and don't want it to be too wildly incorrect.

so yeah.. how do you even learn the things for this?

thank you so much i love your work

Quite a difficult question I won't lie...... But I've answered at length so it's going under a readmore

This isn't my favourite thing to discuss online as it can trigger my psychosis, but I have an actual dismaying amount of experience with cops. I don't want to talk about it but... Bit like Cuno I suppose. Good ending for that kid is doing public services training ages 14 - 16, and going "oh this is shit actually" once he's got an out from his abusive parent, then working at a restaurant

I quite literally cannot go into detail - so don't ask because I WILL delete this post - but an ex military police officer told us a "funny story" about a "prank" he played on some kids in an occupied location during the late 80s that I recognised as psychological torture, but made my peers laugh. So I decided to become a faggot and poet instead.

~NOW FOR THE FUN ADVICE THAT IS ACTUALLY OF USE TO YOU!

Research:

Honestly, the amount of time I spend looking up stuff for writing is probably more than the time I spend writing. The internet's being fucked by SEO but it's a start. Like... There's plenty of info out there written on the police and their role in systematic oppression, I'm pretty sure there's free PDFs floating around on Tumblr actually...

If it's more "day in the life" I honestly don't know. Maybe reddit or if there's one of those "Ex-[blank} reviews [blank] in movies" videos on Youtube for cops, but obviously take everything said with a pinch of salt.

FAYDE:

Fayde is the best tool at your disposal. We bully Kim a lot for his dedication to the RCM but that makes finding out info pretty easy. EDC too! I've never played with high EDC so just typing in key words (especially names of other officers to try and get character info) and scrolling through is helpful.

Good keywords are "precinct", "RCM", "Militicia" as they'll bring up opinions/ info from other characters.

The RCM is not a traditional police force:

I would worry less about accuracy and more about being interesting. It doesn't need to be a perfect representation of police work since the canon makes a point of there being a distinction in the powers and roles of the RCM. Go listen to the collapsing tenement cut content. You don't need to write about them filling in forms if it's not relevant. It'll show in your writing if you're unsure/ bored.

Make them worse:

If you're going to write one of the officers doing something shitty (yes, that includes Kim and Harry) but worry that you've gone too far then I promise you haven't. Dickheads are drawn to positions of power and the impunity it gives them. There's a reason I wrote one of the 57's officers as a groomer.

Make them less competent:

Don't trust the police, but also don't expect anything of them.

As recently as Monday I had to call for the fire brigade because a lit (thankfully poorly made) petrol bomb had been left under a neighbour's car (I live an irritatingly interesting life for somebody who lives in the middle of fucking nowhere) nobody was harmed. Cop came to find me afterwards to get an interview from me since I'd spotted it and he told me, I kid you not, "Yeah, we're not gonna do anything unless anything else happens." Like, I expected as much but I wasn't expecting him to up and fucking say that. You're welcome for 85% of my council tax, you fucking moron.

Harry's a special case because he's, like, psychic and got "maybe if I solve *THIS* one my wife will let me sleep in the big bed" disorder, and nobody wants to read a case fic that they... don't solve (or do they..? *winks*) But if you care about realism you need dick-in-hand dipshits. Another favourite quote of mine from an officer two years back; "Is 'right wing' the good one or the bad one?" So the advice here is you're writing a cop well if you're reading it and thinking: holy shit please just go work at a TESCOs instead.

Don't worry so much:

You should write, first and foremost, for yourself. I like detective fiction, I have wasted an unfortunate amount of my life dealing with police due to my job and shit childhood. (I did originally write far more about this, but frankly it's better for myself if I don't bother. That's why it's taken me five days to answer this)

I've read/ watched a lot of detective fiction and I'm always more drawn to stuff that is less based in police work. Private investigators, investigative journalists, kid detectives like Nancy Drew, ect.

In particular my favourite book, perhaps of all time, is called Hideaway by Dean Koontz and is two fathers (one: the killer's father - a talented doctor who brought his shithead son back to life - and another, the doctor's most recent patient to be brought back from the brink who has developed a psychic link with the killer as a result) trying to stop him, but never actually meeting! It's one hell of a read if you need inspo.

Val McDermott is a good author for crime writing with less police input, too. She has a book called Killing The Shadows which is excellent. The Killer's motive is taking out crime writers who've romanticised psychological profilers after he was wrongly convicted. Fair enough! Until he starts... Killing about it? Sort of defeats the message... Anyway, what's fun about this book is that before each crime writer is killed (in the same way they wrote THEIR killers killing!! Love that) you get to read the first chapter of each writer's most famous work. So you are essentially getting six crime books in one (first chapter of at least) ...Also the main character's husband is a crime writer called Kit, which I've only remembered just double checking the book name now. Lol???

...This is just turning into me recommending books.

TLDR: write what you know, write what is fun, ACAB, don't even worry about it

[wooahaes]

Can I request 36 with Joshua please?

a mermaid’s kiss

pairing: mermaid!joshua x gn!reader

word count: ~1.0k

warnings: death tw (reader dies but comes back to life). mentions of shua dying the same way (and implications his friends did, too).

daisy’s notes: mermaid shua........ i love he. admittedly i wanted to play w this concept more hehe i like fantasy stuff >:3

by all means, falling into the ocean was not the way you thought you’d die.

the sea was not a kind lover in any capacity, in your opinion. but with one of your friends getting married across the sea, you had decided to make the journey to see them. if you didn’t, you’d never hear the end of it from seungcheol--who you knew would write you letter after letter until your gave him a real reason (in which you didn’t: your seasickness could be tamed, and the journey certainly wasn’t as long as others could be). a few weeks at sea wouldn’t kill you.

the storm would instead.

the others had managed to get below deck while you had scooped up a child who’d been separated from his parents, passing him off to a deckhand to rush off with him. all it took was uneasy waters to throw you overboard, your screams lost to the wind as you broke underneath the waves with a painful splash that sent every part of your body aching. despite not being one for water, you had managed to break the surface and take in as much air as you could before being pulled back under.

others might fear sharks. you, on the other hand, were acutely aware of merfolk. you’d heard the stories from sailors time and time again--that they were vicious, that their teeth were sharp as needles and could tear through human flesh within seconds if they found you. that their eyes could enchant you into coming closer, too--a sign that you were doomed when you saw that glimmer. it was kill or be killed when you came in contact with merfolk, and if they were starving...? you knew you couldn’t stand a chance, especially when you were weaponless.

you tried to breach the surface once more, the dark ocean hard to navigate as the wind whipped around you. you scrambled to untie any part of your outfit that could weigh you down too much. yet the waves pulled you under nonetheless, your body already swallowing too much water. your consciousness started to fade, and you knew that this was it.

and then you were met with the pale glow of death awaiting you.

a mermaid had found you in your final moments. he stared at you curiously, eyes glimmering as he tilted his head. he opened his mouth, saying something that you wouldn’t understand--too garbled from the water. you wished you had the strength to fight, to die on your own terms.

he rushed toward you, fingers curling around the back of your neck as he pressed his lips against yours. a warmth washed over you, almost numbing for a moment--and you called the feeling the welcome embrace of an awaiting death. yet he drew away as you breathed in, water like oxygen to you, his hands holding your face. you could feel how slick his touch was, the webbing between his fingers pressed against your skin as you struggled to move your body. despite the way you were weightlessly floating in the water now, your limbs felt as heavy as lead as that warmth made its way through you.

“are you... okay?” he said slowly. he was still looking you over for wounds. you weren’t sure if he was doing it to to lower your guard, or if maybe the stories you had heard were wrong.

you found the strength to speak. “please don’t kill me.”

the merman said nothing in response to that, his body curling around you as he continued to look you over. “your ship is gone,” he said quietly. he looked past you. "you were gone, too.”

“thank you,” you croaked out after a moment. you could feel your fingers again, too. they’d felt so stiff... but you managed to turn yourself around, “what about my ship?”

“you don’t understand, do you?” he turned you to face him. “you were gone. i saved you. you can’t go back now,” he took your hands into his own. “you’ll change soon,” he pressed his palms against your own. you could see how different he looked compared to you: scales and webbing and gills on his neck... “you belong to the ocean now.”

you jerked away. “you shouldn’t have--”

“it’s what happened to many of us,” he said. “if you don’t want a second chance...”

your family. seungcheol’s wedding. the life you had lived before... all of that was gone, wasn’t it? if your family believed you were dead, then wouldn’t it be cruel to return to them just to say you couldn’t stay? or would it be relief if they knew you were alive, even if you were cursed to become merfolk in the end?

“i’ll take care of you,” the mermaid said to you. “you can see them again one last time. that’s what the sea witch grants us,” he said. “i saw my family again, too. they know that i’m alive. you can tell yours, too.” he turned you to face him. “is that what you wanted to hear? that you could see them?”

it had been. how did he--

“i went through this, too,” he told you. “i’ll help you. just... be more careful,” he smiled. “my friend and i will protect you, but you still have to learn.”

you told him your name. he repeated it, sounding it out slowly.

“joshua,” he told you. joshua kept your hand securely in his own as he turned, swimming away so fluidly you were amazed. would you be like this, too, once you grew accustomed to it? once you changed?

“just hold on tight to my hand,” he told you after a moment. “i’ll keep you safe.”

you’d hold him to it.

[definitelynotshouting]

Hi!! Hello!! Your worldbuilding has once again enchanted and fascinated me! But I have no one to talk to about mcyt-related worldbuilding so I’m just going to (definitelynot) shout (ha ha. I’m funny.) at you if that’s ok!!

Ever since I found this fandom I’ve been fascinated by how to deal with video game mechanics in writing, and I’ve found it a very interesting ongoing puzzle, to come up with worldbuilding or lore to explain the more mechanical, coding-based stuff and cover up the fact that the characters are in a videogame. I think that’s part of why I love your worldbuilding so much, because you went in completely the opposite direction, and made Code the base, the reality-fabric, of all the rest of your universe! It kinda blew my mind!

Anyway, the player inventory and in-game chat are two of the most glaringly Video Game mechanics, and two of the first that I came up with explanations for, which is why I (like Tango) latched onto those few lines and details about them in chapter four. For me, they’re both explained by the very flexible fabric of reality inherent to server-words. Because reality is so easy to manipulate (and be manipulated without breaking down) in these worlds, it’s easy for Players to simply open a small personal pocket dimension they can store stuff in. (The same way it’s easy to make something float by just leaving it there and taking away what connects it to the ground) the chat happenes basically the same way. Server-worlds allow for a very shallow telepathic link across all players that everyone experiences a little differently (you might see it scroll across the inside of you arm, look at it in the corner of your vision, actually hear it quietly in your head, etc.)

But that’s a lot of My Ideas, I am, in fact, here because of Your Ideas. Because I’ve alway seen them as sperate things, and I am So Curious about how you’ve linked them. The chat being on external comms on a watch or phone-like device seems pretty common in the fandom, but linking them the way you have — in that you can’t have an inventory without a comm — raises so many questions!! (/pos) how do they work? Are they mechanical? Magical? Natural? Bio-magical? If they were something that needed to be invented, who invented them? How long have they been around? What did people do before then? How does a new player get their first comm/inventory? If comms can comunicate across worlds, could they theoretically take their inventory across worlds/servers as well? Is cross-void trade a very dangerous, but lucrative, profession? Do they have to exchange comm-phone-numbers or can they immediately contact anyone they’ve ever met? If you have stuff in your inventory and you loose your comm, do you lose the stuff too? Or does it transfer like an ender chest? Could someone else steal your inventory by stealing your comm? Does a player have to attune to a comm like a dnd magic item? How common is it to have to build a new one?

I’m gonna stop now because this is really long, it’s 11, and I Will just keep thinking of more questions. I’m so intrigued by this!! Those few little lines have completely captivated me with their potential!! I’m excited!!

(Sorry if this had a bit too much of my own personal worldbuilding ramble, I just really wanna talk to someone about this stuff!)

Ive been 👁️👁️ at this ask since you sent it in and first of all im so sorry the autism won for a bit and kept me from answering your questions, second of all i think your worldbuilding is SO NEAT :DDD this is SUPER COOL i love your ideas, comms being a telepathic link is so interesting to me!!! Also, im intensely flattered that you like the direction i took with hunger au's worldbuilding so much!! I've been having a lot of fun sorta marrying biology and irl physics with computer programming-based building building blocks for this universe, to the point where im actually starting to put together a legit glossary in my masterlist doc to keep it all straight in my head 😂😂😂 it's an interesting challenge for me to try and meld all these things together so i can make something that feels completely different from our world without losing its relatability, so im super glad you're appreciating it!!!

These are a lot of questions im gonna try and answer all at once, so i'll put it beneath the cut so it doesnt clog people's dashes LMAO

So firstly, the way i view communicators is,,, okay dont laugh too hard but i literally just visualize them as pip boys from fallout SKDNJWNDJS for some reason ive NEVER been able to shake that mental image, so ive just sorta accepted that into how i view them for hunger au. Personally, i see them as sort of a... mishmash of the bio-mechanical, something that isnt QUITE a direct part of them but is very much attached and integrated with their code. So its not like an organ, but an interface, i guess-- comms are how you can access an inventory, which is basically just hammerspace the way you've already described it, and where you can change your own surface code, and its also just... the way Players are able to interact with the worlds around them.

You also send messages with comms, but instead of there being anything like phone numbers, you're forming a direct link between your comm and someone else's!!! Not telepathic the way you've done with your worldbuilding, but because i see comms in this universe as something that latches onto and interacts with your code, its still a very important connection. Once connected, you can talk to that person all the time through your comm, even if they arent currently on your server-- although I do think that this only extends to when youre within the same server cluster.

As for how Players get them in the first place: for spawned Players, they just spawn in with them. Thats where the bio part comes in i think, and its a little hard for me to explain the way i view it, but its something like... i guess a bit like when moons form around planets. The code of an entity has a certain weight to it, and when a Player and their singleplayer world spawns in, the comm does with them, already attached and integrated with their code. For birthed Players, its very different-- they arent born with a comm, so they need a comm made, and then integrated with their code by a skilled code wrangler. It is VERY tricky to make a comm-- theyre incredibly fiddly, super hard to code without mistakes, and they take an extraordinarily long time to put together, let alone integrate properly with someone's code. Im not sure the word dangerous is the most accurate term here, but there are potentially harmful consequences if you integrate a poorly made comm with someone's code.

As for inventory transfer, i think you can bring stuff in your inventory from one server to another. This is mostly used for personal items or gifts, i think-- Player culture and attitude generally emphasizes fun, and whats more fun than giving someone something special that you made/got for them, or bringing a little memento with you from an old world you want to remember?

Theoretically, im sure there are Players who bring supplies or previously used tools with them to new worlds, but i think most Players like the excitement and challenge of starting fresh. It all depends on the person and the community culture surrounding that server if its a multiplayer. Cross-void trade is probably definitely a thing, but i dont think its necessarily very dangerous, just something more personal that you'd do for yourself or for a friend rather than any kind of business model.

As for someone being able to steal a comm, i dont think you can if its attached to the Player it belongs to, because at that point its basically a part of them. They can take them off, though, so someone could potentially steal it then, but unless theyre a skilled code wrangler and can crack into it, i dont think it would work for them or let them access that person's inventory. It would, however, be an incredibly effective (and cruel) way of controlling someone's actions and where they can go/who they can talk to.

This is why, ultimately, lost comms are a huge deal; losing your comm is literally losing access to pieces of yourself, your world, and your community. And while as a Watcher, Grian doesnt technically need a comm to access his code or enter other servers, he does still need it to keep in touch with other people and facilitate those community bonds, as well as keep an inventory. So yeah, Tango fretting over Grian losing his comm was very much warranted.

AAAAAAA THIS WAS VERY LONG i hope it was worth the wait!!! I know you sent another question but im gonna answer that one separately later since its about a different subject, and this is already SOOOO MUCH RAMBLING on my part. Thank you for sending these asks, and you are absolutely welcome to ramble at me as much as you want!!! :D

[dulcewrites]

I had this headcanon about how Aemond still frequently suffers from chronic headaches because of his eye but refused to take milk of the poppy because it made him feel all light headed and, well just… drunk in general, so he didn’t want to put himself into such a vulnerable position but then when he and Myrah marry she eventually convinces him to take it from time to time when the pain got really bad and when he does they always stay in their chambers, Aemond lying in bed, feeling high out of his mind, and Myrah sits on his torso, doing silly things like cleaning his Aura and attempting ASMR and so on. Aemond would probably act embarrassed afterwards because he’s wayyy to serious for all that stuff but secretly he enjoys it a lot

Oh I love this. Especially the cleaning his aura and attempting asmr part. They are very astrology gf and stock market bf coded. One of the reasons why he loves her so much is how carefree and weird and warm she is. It makes him feel young… which he is! He has been to be uptight for so long out of necessity and as a barrier. It is easy for everyone to forget he’s basically a baby. He’s only in his early 20s (in this universe at least)

AND this gave me an idea that myrah would be so interested in magic especially the Hightowers connection to alchemy and necromancy. She probably tries her hand at stuff (and in theory fails 💀)

now I have to write this

Bewitched by You

The aches always started the same. A tingle at the top of his head that traveled all the way down and pricked the tip of his toes. Despite the years of experiencing them, Aemond was still a shock when the pain in his head traveled through his body. A dull pain settling in his bones.

They sneak up on him at times, and during each one that happens, Myrah would plead the same thing.

“Please, just a little bit of it. I know it will make you feel better.”

He had taken milk of the poppy before. When he was younger and the scar still healed, he was all but take it by the maesters. It did help with the pain, but he hated the fuzzy feeling that came with it. How he strangely was unaware yet hyperaware of everything going on around him. The next day, his mother would smile sweetly saying he was quite cute while on it.

Her only other experience with dealing with someone on milk of the poppy was a surly, useless old man with rotting flesh. Of course, he would be cute compared to that.

But Myrah would beg. Her eyes would get wide and sad. A similar look Alicent would give him when he was in pain. If there was any worse pain than the headaches, it was seeing them upset.

So, when his head begins to pound after dinner, it takes little convincing on her part for him to finally take some. Myrah makes him change into something more comfortable, and brushes his hair. By the time milk of the poppy is brought to their chambers, the moon was rising in the sky, and the fires within the castle ablaze and flickering.

He watches Myrah, who floats around the room like a fairy. Lighting the oil lamps, dark curls dancing behind her and a girlish frolic in her step. It makes him wonder what their children will look like. More Targaryen or more like her family? He tries to imagine a younger version of himself with her hair, or gods willing, her eyes.

Once done tending to the lamps, she comes to stand near the bed, the strap of her night gown falling on her shoulder.

“How do you feel?”

“You’re pretty,” is the first thing that came to his mind. Myrah laughs and it chimes like bells in his head.

“Feeling better, I assume,” she rearranges the pillows. “Why don’t you lie down.”

She tucks him in as if he is a child. Humming a hymn before leaning down and kissing him on the forehead. She leans up with a sudden gasp.

“You know what we should do,” she beams.

Aemond just blinks, eye trained on her. A part of him wants bury his face in her chest to get whiff of lavender he got meer seconds ago. But he does not think that is what she meant.

“Daeron sent me a special book from Oldtown,” she nods. “And I have learned to properly get rid of negative spirits in a room, and the negative aura that follows someone.”

Aemond just continues to stare, before a giggle bubbles up his throat. The pain is his head now replaced with a floaty lightness. The earnest nature of his wife only makes him like he’s on a cloud. Myrah crosses her arms, with a frown.

“I am serious, Aemond.”

She turns towards the desk in the room, picking up large brown book. Comically big in her small arms. She flips the pages furiously, before taking a deep breath and closing her eyes dramatically. Aemond watches as she begins to chant something he cannot recognize. Words he has never heard before. He watches and watches, a smile on his face. It goes on for minutes.

When she is done, she turns to him with a proud look on her face. “That was really poweful. Did you feel that?”

He is sure he is married to one of the strangest women in Westeros, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Yes, my love, I felt it.”

[pixelgrotto]

Sweet Nightingale

One of the neat side effects about my job writing guides for Rock Paper Shotgun is getting exposed to stuff that I don't typically touch. For example, the survival/crafting genre, which blew up in the 2010s when I was living in Asia and too busy trying to survive in real life. I was aware of games like The Long Dark, of course, and I thought Valheim looked okay when it came out. But as someone who's never been thrilled with the idea of chopping down digital trees for wood (except for maintaining my farm in Harvest Moon 64), survival games have mostly fallen off my radar.

Obviously, that's no longer the case thanks to work. Survival games are perhaps one of the few video game genres out there that remain opaque as hell, therefore making them perfect fodder for guide writing. And this year has already seen several big survival games released, with Palworld taking up far more of my mental space than I ever would've imagined for much of January and February. (My lukewarm take is that Palworld is okay. Not really my thing, but I get why people like it as both a meme game and a "I can't believe Nintendo isn't suing, because that Electrabuzz ripoff is equipped with a GUN, somebody stop him!")

But this post is not about Palworld. It is, rather, about Nightingale, an enchanting survival title made by Inflexion Games that unfortunately launched into Early Access only a few weeks after Palworld probably stole some of its potential player base. I had the chance to consume a fair bit of Nightingale prior to its release, and I also wrote a few guides on it for work. I'm not sure if it's actually going to take off - its current player numbers aren't as high as expected, and the game bristles with a special degree of enrapturing jank that's definitely not going to appeal to everyone. Case in point: half of my colleagues hated the pre-Early Access UI, which made several unusual decisions, including flipping the usual hotbar configuration present in these sorts of games. This has since been rectified, and now the UI is more streamlined and accessible, though also a bit more boring, in my eyes.

I think Nightingale sticks with me precisely because it boasts an aesthetic and setting that are very much not boring. We're talking about a gaslight fantasy atmosphere that feels a tad Neil Gaiman, if he were channeling the same stuff that inspired Alan Moore to write The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen. Apparently, Nightingale's concept was based on the novel Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell, which I have not read but now want to, and the game starts by placing you as an inhabitant of a late 1800s reality inextricably linked with Fae beings. A big calamity happens, and folks exploring the Faewilds are tossed into disparate realms and separated from their magical hub city, dubbed Nightingale. You have to help your character survive in these bizarre biomes, which are filled with Wonderland-style beasts and floating sculptures in the sky. Hopefully by constructing your own estate in these magical outposts and allying with other Realmswalkers, all of you will one day reach the city of Nightingale once more.

I am an absolute pervert for this sort of alternate history Victorian stuff, and if I'm going to be very frank, my initial reaction when playing Nightingale was wondering if its enchanting setting was "wasted" on a survival/crafting game. It's the sort of thing I'd expect to see in a tabletop RPG (which I would gladly play), not a game where you need to construct a sewing table and then kill 5 hippos so you can skin their hides and put those hides on the aforementioned sewing table and wait a minute so you can craft a little cape for yourself.

I'm not the only one to have this thought, and there's a whole calvacade of commentators who posted similar things on every Rock Paper Shotgun article devoted to the game. In a nutshell, it seems to come down to the fact that many outspoken individuals don't like the survival gameplay loop of running around chopping down trees so you can craft a better axe to chop down more trees, but thus far they've safely been able to ignore most crafting games because they typically take place in forests or post-apocalyptic environments that are usually pretty samey. Nightingale is not samey, which makes people want to play it and then lament that it's not in their ideal genre of choice.

Once again, I really need to expoud upon how much charm this game has. Your guide through the tutorial is a smooth talking fey with a poncy vocabulary named Puck. Umbrellas serve as in-game gliders to make you descend from great heights like Mary Poppins. And even though the basic survival loop is there - yes, you've still got to farm those damn hippos - there is a nifty tarot card system in place that procedurally generates the worlds your intrepid Realmswalker is forced to confront. It's a mishmash of ideas that really feels like it's ripped from the pages of some Game Master's steampunk world (there I go again, going off on how much I'd like to play a Nightingale TTRPG), and even though it's largely busywork, eventually you can get a rifle that shoots ice ammo and a legendary set of "armor" that's really just a Victorian tweed suit. By damnation, it's appealing.

It's this sense of originality that makes me want to play Nightingale more, and injects within me the strength to overlook the jankiness in the combat and UI that make me ocasionally feel like I'm playing a game from the late 2000s. (The first Witcher, are ya there? I'm reminded of you.) And I daresay it's unfair to say that Nightingale's eclectic setting is "wasted" on a survival/crafting experience, which is a harsh statement that probably does a disservice to both Inflexion Games and to the entire genre. While these sorts of games might not be my automatic cuppa, Nightingale actually makes me want to play more of them, and I plan on purchasing V Rising next month, which I missed out on back when it came out.

All this is a roundabout way of saying that there's power in a good setting and a striking coat of paint. Sometimes that's all we need to overlook gameplay loops that do not initially appeal to us, and I'm sure there's a whole audience out there that cared little for crafting in the wilderness but loved monster collecting. Palworld was the honeypot that probably encouraged them to look deeper into what survival games had to offer. For me, Nightingale performs a similar function.

There's also the fact that I appreciate it when games take risks and dare to step outside of the cornerstones of what's considered safe and sellable in their respective genres. Nightingale probably wouldn't have stood out nearly as much as a CRPG, for instance. There are already gaslight fantasy RPGs out there, and you can still buy Arcanum: Of Steamworks and Magick Obscura on Steam. But there's nothing quite like this in the survival space, and thus we have something brave and bold, unique and odd - a potent combination that compels me to stay a while in its mysterious Fae red room. I certainly hope that Nightingale survives its turbulent Early Access period, because while chopping down trees and building houses might not be what I'm immediately looking for when I sit down to play a game, stick a tophat on me and say I'm doing it in the realm of A Midsummer Night's Dream and my mind has the potential to change. It's all about the flavor, in other words, and Nightingale has that in spades.

[otts-the-verminqueen]

I'm back with even more ships!

Here we go again on another day of posting about my ratings on different ships!

~~~~~

1. Thoma x Ayato

Rating: 100/10

I love this ship. It's adorable. Plus, they're already set up for great tropes. It's a pretty easy ship to write.

2. Chongyun x Xingqiu

Rating: 50/10

These two are adorable and I adore their dynamic so, so, so much. Another favorite of mine. Probably one of my first favorite Liyue ships.

3. Gaming x Freminet

Rating: 10/10

This one is adorable, and the ship name people came up with for them. Ugh. So cute. Lionfish? Amazing. I want to write something for them, but I still have so many other ideas to work on and I don't know if I can push something like that to the top of the list right now.

4. Wriothesley x Clorinde

Rating: 8/10

I've seen some stuff for this ship, and honestly, it's cute. I like it. Not a favorite, really, but I think these two would mesh well together and their interactions during the Archon Quest were really funny.

~~~~~

Once again, feel free to leave any suggestions you might have for future ships you'd like me to rate. I love doing this. I should post more of these more often, but I got lots on my mind and I just never feel like I have enough time to sit and think about which ships I want to post about and blah, blah, blah.

I also will probably start posting about more of the Genshin and Star Rail theories that have been floating around in my head for a while. I'd like to see what some other people's opinions on those theories are.

[willel]

Why is twitter so toxic? I think you wrote something about it some time ago, that on tumblr, for instance, there’s no immediate incentive to write a hit post and then to come up with the most outrageous claims that create "engagement"? Or because it’s not really about direct conversation made of short messages when everyone wants to "win" the argument, but favors calm analysis instead. Anyway, I just can’t go there anymore right now, too much hate and stupidity, I’m glad there’s still blogs like you and a few others to enjoy some ST escapism.

Twitter's short form context was pretty great when it came out years ago. "Tweets" were generally someone putting random thoughts out in the aether or a quick notification or an alert to check out news on this site or that site. I feel like it wasn't meant for what it is today, for people to be interacting with each other in a meaningful way. Like, what are you gonna talk about in 100 characters or less? That's why you'll sometimes see old tweets of celebrities floating around of the most random nonsensical statements with no context. That's what twitter was as its core.

Now combine that with people starting to use twitter for more than just random thoughts that popped into peoples head. It started to be used for political activism (which isn't necessarily a bad thing) and fandom activities.

We all know how bad politics fandom can get on long form sites like tumblr and reddit. Imagine how much worse it is when you cut away all context and nuance to fit in a tweet.

Imo, it set twitter on a downward spiral. Doesn't matter how much they increase the character limit, the culture now is tweet fast. React fast. Argue fast. If you lose, resort to other means. Anything to win. Anything to get your tweets more attention that the other person.

It's like a game. I'm sure that plays into the desire to be "famous" that a lot of social media enjoyers crave.

I'm not saying tumblr is much better, but I feel the culture here is more like "take your time" or "time doesn't matter, old stuff is good". Tumblr does have an issue with people not reblogging content, causing good posts and content to go unnoticed given there is no real algorithm here, which is sad. But for the most part, ain't nobody here trying to get famous. Everything is talking and creating stuff for the sake of it.

Most of the time even the people arguing here are arguing about stuff that happens off site or they stay in their corners and tag correctly. (if you don't tag correctly and start fights on purpose, I immediately assume you must be from twitter)

People who have been here on my blog for a while are probably thinking "Tch, what do you know about fandom conflict?" and let me tell you, in my youth I participated in a ship war. It was just one,but still. I didn't resort to name calling or doxing people though, that's for sure. I wrote essays and essays in response to people, defended my ship, made stuff for my ship (which I still do), the whole shebang. It was all here on tumblr and deviantart. I do have a twitter for that fandom but I don't use it for any drama. I can say the drama on twitter is MUCH WORSE than anything I experienced on tumblr.

That is the ST fandom on twitter in a nutshell. No one can mind their own business. They're constantly spying on each other, posting using common search terms of the people they don't like and then acting surprised when the people they don't like respond to them. It's all like a game. Every blue moon when I go there to see if there's WillEl things, inevitably I will see shippers using it to fight against each other or crap on Will or El.

Once a week it's the same suspects saying the same things over and over again. Finding something pointless to be mad about. Sending angry anon messages. Never actually sitting down to enjoy the ships/relationships they claim to be a fandom of. Cannot mind their business and always have something negative to say. Denying what is literally in the show because they personally don't like it. Literally the worst kind of people to have in your fandom. (I associate that kind of behavior with like.... Riverdale drama or something. Sorry if you're a Riverdale fan. Lol)

In conclusion, yeah. I think twitter is that way because the short form context has breed a culture of "win or lose". Mixed with a little bit of celebrity idolization and a desperate desire for people to interact with you even if it's negative.