#maggie's fine. this logic is fine

[deansapplepie]

Till THE DEAD do us part |Chapter 17

Chapter 16 Chapter 18

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Chapter 17: Of kisses and chapsticks

Summary: Winter arrived and with it the chapped lips. Y/N have to convince Daryl applying chapsticks and she’ll need to be very creative for it.

Warnings: one suggestive line from Daryl (the rest is just fluffy, really). Minors do not interact.

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Grimes!Reader (Rick’s Sister)

Word Count: 1,560

Extra notes: I proofread the text, but English is not my first language, so feel free to correct any mistakes, of course with love. This is a short chapter that has been on my mind since I started writing the story, but I needed to wait until now. It’s all fluff and if you don’t read the series you can read it by itself.

It was the beginning of winter when you found the mine of gold of chapsticks. You were looking so bad for it! The weather was dry and sometimes it was difficult to find water, not just you, but pretty much everyone had their lips chapped. You took all the chapsticks you found in your backpack before returning back to the Storage Lockers you had found.

You felt lucky you had a place to stay during winter, but you weren’t sure if you could stay afterwards. It looked like a big shed from the outside, but inside it had corridors with retract doors closing the lockers. It was as perfect as it could be, also you could go through the lockers and see if you could find something useful. As there was many doors in the corridors, you were able to manage that everyone had their own room, but stayed close to each other.

When you arrived with Maggie and Glenn from the run, you started distributing chapsticks to everyone. When you found Daryl he was at the old kitchen the employees of the storage lockers used when they were alive, you needed to kill some of them as walkers when you arrived. He was skinning some rabbits he had gotten hunting while you were on the run, it was a good quantity, 5 rabbits wasn’t exactly a big quantity, but it was more than your group has got per day, so it was good.

“Which flavor do you prefer? Mint, cherry or strawberry?” You asked him, your hands behind your back.

“What d’ya have in yer hands? Candies?” He asked, that was his logic since you mentioned flavors.

“Which flavor do you prefer?” You repeated your question ignoring his.

“Any of them, I like them all. D’ya have Y/N flavor? It’s my favorite.” He replied cutting the last game in pieces.

“Unfortunately, Y/N flavor is limited and was out of stock, but I got these.” You brought your hands in front of you holding all the three flavors. “You can have all of them, I found plenty for all of us.”

He let out a snort. “No way I’m using one of these, sweetheart.” He started to clean his hands now that his hunt was all clean and ready to cook.

“Why not? It’s good for your lips. The dry weather is giving everyone chapped lips.” You said, damn… sometimes you wish Merle was around so you could kick his ass for raising Daryl like this. “It has no color. Open your mouth, I’m gonna apply some for you. Your hands are all bloody.”

“Never died of dry lips.” You rolled your eyes. “Are the other guys using this?”

“Yes, all of them. Even Rick.” You said the truth. They could feel a little strange, but they were glad they had something to smooth their dried lips. “Now, are you going to let me apply some?”

“Nah, I’m fine.”

“ ‘kay babe… so let me give you a kiss to thank you for bringing us food.” You faked innocence the best you could while entering his personal space and watching him clean his hands.

He looked at you and his instincts screamed he was walking into a trap, but the bait was you and as a mouse attracted to the cheese, he couldn’t help but fall into it. He bended enough for your lips to touch and when you fully pressed your lips against his, he jumped and scrunched his face.

“Jesus, woman! You never give up!”

“At least now your lips are moisturized. Y/N flavor, your favorite.” You smiled triumphantly.

“That wasn’t what I meant when I said yer my favorite flavor, sunshine.” He smirked and pulled you onto him now that his hands were clean. He had to confess, not to you, just for himself that indeed he enjoyed the mint flavored moisturizer he tasted on your lips.

“Daryl Dixon, you’re so filthy…”

The snow had started falling the day before, nothing too much, Georgia had very little snowfall compared to the rest of the country. A thin layer of it covered the ground and in a world like this, it almost looked as magical as before. Daryl and you walked in the woods, crossbow in hand and attentive eyes to any possible game. During the time you were on the road after the farm, you managed to find a hunt shop and found a crossbow to yourself as Daryl had suggested when he started teaching you how to use it. Now you had more practice in it, not like the hunter, but it was still very useful to have those abilities.

You had already got some crows and doves, you were surprised how it wasn’t so difficult to hunt them, you mean… if you found any of them. The afternoon was really cold and the wind felt like it was going to cut your face. “Guess we got enough for today, let’s go back.” Daryl turned to you, the string with crows and doves hanging on his shoulder.

Your lips were so dry that they were already hurting. You shoved your hand in your pocket and took the cherry flavored chapstick applying it to your lips. “Dee, do you think I hunted good today?”

“Of course pup, you almost got half of our hunt.” He answered not really minding why you were asking the question, although you had been hunting for months and were reasonably good at it.

“Don’t you think I deserve a reward?” You asked catching his gloved hand in yours and swinging it.

“Do ya?” At this moment he already knew what you wanted, since you had done the same thing uncountable times. But he let you think you had everything under control.

“Yeah, kiss!” You pouted and pointed at your lips.

“Are ya addicted to kisses or what? Ya have been kissing me way too much.” He side eyed you, a little mischievous smile on his face.

“Are you signing a complaint?” You joked.

“Nah, never.” He stopped moving and so did you. “Come here.” In seconds his lips were pressed against yours for a longer time than he would allow in the past knowing that your intention was to get some moisture on his lips.

“Babe Dee, are you addicted to chapstick?” You played with him.

“Nah, just to yer lips. This chap shit is just on the way.” At this point you already knew he enjoyed a little too much kissing your flavored lips.

It was one more freezing night at the Storage Lockers, the first watch shift was Daryl’s which meant you were sleeping alone, or at least trying to sleep. You got so used to sleep with him by your side, that when he wasn’t there most of the times you couldn’t sleep.

You sat and put your boots, wrapped your two blankets around you and directed yourself to where the archer was keeping watch. There were some high windows around the shed where the Storage lockers were, there was a platform all around, perfect to keep watch of outside. You went up the stairs and found Daryl sitting by a window. “Couldn’t sleep?” He didn’t even need to turn to you, he already knew your steps.

“I never can sleep without you.” You replied hugging him and giving a kiss on top os his head. “Are you cold?” You didn’t wait for his reply and put the blankets around him.

“ ‘m not.” He said and before he could protest you had sat between his legs, your back against his chest. He took the ends of the covers and wrapped it around both of you. “Gonna ask Rick to make the shifts in pairs since ya always end up here with me, when it’s mah watch.”

“It would be great.” You liked the idea of being with Daryl at this time, you’d love to be with him all the time. “Do you think I’m clingy?”

“ ‘cause ya like to be always with me?” He asked his chin resting on top of your head.

“Hmm.” You nodded, afraid of his answer, but you always ended up asking those questions.

“Nah, if ya’re, ‘m too. ‘Cause I’d rather be around you all the time.” He answered. You turned slightly so you could see him.

“Really?

“Really.” He touched your face, and you were so glad about his warm hand on your cold face. His cold nose touched yours and both of you could feel your very welcome warm breaths. His lips covered yours, his soft moisturized strawberry flavored lips. You couldn’t help but smile in the kiss before pressing your lips against his one more time. He moved his against your spreading the moisturizing substance also in your lips and finished with a small peck.

You wanted to tease him about finally using the chapsticks, but you decided otherwise. “I think we just found the best way to hydrate the lips. I liked it that way.”

You turned to rest your back full on his chest once again, holding his arms that were around you and watching the cold Georgian night and sky by the big window of your temporary safe place.

Wanna be add to my tag list? Let me know. (Please tell me if you want to be tagged on everything or just specific series)

Everything Taglist: @lilyevanstan1325

Till THE DEAD do us part Taglist: @sunnybunnyy2 @royaltysuite @isakyakiisak @milopenne @murdadixon @mel-wcst

#daryl dixon #the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #twd #twd daryl #daryl x reader #daryl x y/n #daryl fanfiction #daryl imagines #the walking dead daryl dixon #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl #daryl x you #daryl dixon x grimes!reader #deansapplepie #till the dead do us part

[dangerpronebuddie]

Maggie, you don't understand how much I need the shooting to actually be Eddie's oh moment. Can you imagine how DELICIOUS the pining would be if Eddie gave up because he thought Buck was straight and couldn't feel the same way about him just to find out Buck is very much NOT straight and be like "oh, it wasn't that I'm a man, he just doesn't want me" UGH, I want it so baaaaaaaaaad. It's never gonna happen, the logical way to get here is to have none of them be aware of their feelings and figure that out together, but OH MY GOD IT COULD BE SO GOOD

AAAAAAAHHHH! I had not even considered what that pining could be now that Buck is canonically bi. "Oh, it wasn't that I'm a man, he just doesn't want me" I'M FINE!

It would be perfect if the shooting was his oh moment!!! Spending years knowing he's in love with Buck and knowing there's no way, and now that he knows there is a way, he's still not an option?? OUGH!!! I mean, that whole scene is poetic! The way his eyes never leave Buck? The way he keeps reaching for Buck even as he begins to fall? How he stayed conscious until he knew Buck wasn't hurt????? Perfect realization.

But, if it wasn't his oh moment (we're correct until proven otherwise!) having him stumble through his own realization would be *chef's kiss!*

And yeah, it's probably not, unfortunately. I think he wasn't telling Buck the entire truth about what he remembered in 6x12, but there's every possibility he doesn't remember after all. I choose to stay delusional about this!

If it isn't, I'd like to see him go to someone about his feelings, like Hen, Chim, or even Bobby and want advice on it.

And I want an episode from Eddie's pov. How he sees Buck. The potential for mutual pining is AMAZING!!!

#any way they do it could be AMAZING #but the shooting is forever his oh moment to me #911 #buddie #anna 🩷

[imyourbratzdoll]

Hey sweetheart 🤭💗

I would love to request an angsty fic if you're okay with it 👉🏼👈🏼💗

I was thinking about 7x01 and the whole Negan opening thingy...maybe Negan picks reader in the line up and Rick throws himself between him and you so save you and Negan starts mocking Rick for the sacrifice he was willing to give (I hope it's logical????🥴) I love Rick so much I wouldn't say no to a happy end but I know you'll do something great either way 🤭💗

Love you so much sweetie 💗💗💗

hey baby, I hope you like what I did! I love you so much!

summary - rick makes the mistake of jumping in front of you as negan goes to swing, causing a third to die.

warning - death, swearing, angst.

18+ only please, the gif I use isn't mine, divider by @newlips

“Moe” Everyone’s eyes fall onto the person at the end of Negan’s bat. There, you kneel, staring at the bat without emotion, not wanting to give the man satisfaction. “Well, well. Shit, sweetheart. I kinda feel bad. Such a waste of a pretty face.” Negan licks his lips as he pulls back, readying his bat for a wild swing. 

“NO” A shout can be heard, and a body is thrown before you. Rick kneels in front of you, hands reaching behind him as he grips your hands into his as he stares at Negan and his bat. “You aren’t taking her like you took Glenn.” His blue eyes sharpen into a glare, his heart nearly beating out of his chest at the thought of losing you. 

“Well, shit! Look at this bitch!” Negan chuckles, twirling around as he gestures to Rick before he stops and leans down, getting into Rick’s face. “You really going to be stupid and sacrifice yourself for some cunt?” He tilts his head, looking at you from behind Rick before his gaze returns to Rick. “I mean, I bet she’s super tight and good in bed. But really? Doing some stupid shit like this?” Negan stands, leaning back slightly as he lets out a laugh, raising his voice. “Hear that, fellas! This dumbass jumped in front of her because of her snatch!” His men laugh, and Rick’s jaw clenches, squeezing your hand.

“Don’t talk about her like that.” Rick glares at this moment, not caring about anything else because he wants to keep you safe. “You’re not going to kill her. She’s not part of your stupid game.”

Negan stops laughing, his mouth setting into a smirk as he stares down at Rick. “Look who’s grown some balls! Big balls, Rick over here, that’s who!” He steps back and begins to practice his swings with Lucille, staring down at Rick. “Do you really think you have the power to tell me what to do here, Rick? Where was the sacrifice when I was turning Glenn over there into a pancake?” Negan begins to pace, “Is it because Asian boy wasn’t giving you some loving? Didn’t have the tight cunt for you to bury into?” Everyone gasps and Maggie lets out choked sobs. Negan rolls his eyes and groans. “Oh, shut the fuck up!” 

Negan strokes his chin as he continues to stare at Rick. “Fine, I’ll let this shit go. But one more fuck up, and I’ll shut that shit down.” Rick lets out a breath, feeling you squeeze his hands before he tenses again. “Now, let’s start over. Eeny.” He begins pointing his bat again. “Meeny.” Everyone’s hearts and stomachs are in their throats as they wonder who will die next. “Miny,” You gulp as you watch him slowly approach the last person. “Moe!”

Screams can be heard as he slams Lucille into Sasha’s head, and Negan chuckles as he continues to smash it repeatedly before looking at Rick. “See what ya did, Rick. Three dead! All because of you!”

thank you for reading!

feedback and reblogs are greatly appreciated.

#catt leyaask #imyourbratzdollasks #imyourbratzdollwork #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes #rick grimes x you #rick grimes angst #rick grimes fic #rick grimes fan fic #rick grimes fanfic #rick grimes fanfiction #rick grimes fluff #rick grimes imagines #rick grimes imagine #rick grimes one shot #rick grimes oneshot #rick grimes x female reader #andrew lincoln

[devils-dares]

BEE !! HAPPY 400 ILYSM

can i get #7 from the friends to lovers list with slightly drunk college realer and matt post party ??

maggie baby! ily!

mentions of alcohol

7-friends to lovers: being awfully nervous when they're having a sleepover because they just wonder where their thoughs will be wandering when they're sharing a bed

-----

Matt could hold his liquor a hell of a lot better than you could. He could probably outdrink you and still have a sense of sanity. Thankfully, you didn’t get as drunk as you wanted to, grumbling about some project and an 8am class, but you were still giggly and unsteady which led to Matt helping you to your dorm from a frat. He grabs your key from you and helps you in, sitting you upright on the bed.

“I can’t take my shoes off.”

“What?” He asks.

“I can’t take them off, the world starts spinning when I bend over.” He sighs and gets on his knees in front of you.

“What are you doing?”

“Taking them off for you, unless you wanna sleep with them on?” He joked and you scoffed and shoved the heel of your sneaker at him. He laughs as he takes the both of them off and turns around so you can get changed.

“Can you toss me that sweatshirt on my chair?” He grabs it but before he tosses it to you, he feels the material.

“Wait- did you steal this from me?”

“I didn’t steal it! I just… never returned it.”

“That’s stealing.”

“Shut up, lawyer.”

“Soon to be.”

“You should have an off button, or at least a mute. Give it to me.” He hands you the sweatshirt and you throw it on.

“Alright, I’m headed home, catch you in class tomorrow? Unless you’re hungover, of course.”

“I hate you, I’ll be fine.” He laughs as he leaves and you lock the door after him, smiling to yourself.

Climbing into bed, you get under the covers and begin to drift off to sleep a few minutes later until you hear several knocks on the door.

“It’s Matt, can you let me in?” You hear and sigh, taking the warm covers off and unlocking the door for him.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“I-uh… heh, I lost my keys.�� He says.

“What about Foggy?”

“Out with Marci, probably won’t be back until tomorrow. Can I stay here?” You looked shocked at his question.

“Here? Matt, I don’t think I have the room for the both of us.”

“I’ll sleep on the floor.”

“I’m not letting you sleep on a dorm room floor. Maybe if I move some pillows there should be enough room for the two of us.”

“Are you sure? I am totally fine with sleeping on the floor.”

“Matt, get in the bed.” He huffs and gets in after you, the bed squeaking under your weight and suddenly you realize how close the two of you are under the blanket.

“Goodnight, Matty.”

“Goodnight.” But your brain doesn’t begin its descent to dreamland, no, it starts overthinking. Can he smell the alcohol that you were too drunk to wash off? Are your feet too cold? Are you on his unspoken side of the bed? Could he hear your racing heartbeat, telling him that you felt a little something a little stronger? Little did you know he was sweating for the same reason. Neither of you were getting any rest in this bed.

Matt was trying to wrack his brain, trying to think of any logical reason he was overthinking sharing a bed with you. You were irregularly warm, he could feel the heat wafting off of you practically in waves.

Finally he has enough, and shakes you “awake” although he already knew you were wide awake.

“Hey.”

“Hi.”

“I can hear you thinking.”

“Yeah? What does it sound like?”

“Nails on a chalkboard.”

“That seems like an insult but I’ll let it slide.” He laughs.

“Can I- can I come closer?” He’s taken aback by your words, but nods and lets you tuck into his body nonetheless.

“What are you thinking about?” He asks, voice soft and somehow lulling you to sleep.

“Is this a safe space?” You ask, half joking and half serious.

“Always.”

“I’m thinking about you.” Your heartbeat flutters and he wraps his arm around you just a little tighter.

“In what way?”

“In this way. The way we’re close right now, my head on your chest,” and you can’t tell if it’s the alcohol still in your system or just being exhausted from tiptoeing around Matt but you keep spilling, “I want it, Matt. I want us… like this.” He smiles.

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Y-yeah, yeah you can.” It doesn’t take him anything else than your affirmation for him to cup your face and dip his chin to connect your lips. He smiles into it and it grows deeper as you swing your leg over his body, straddling him as he rests his hands on your hips, pulling you until your body lay directly on his.

“I don’t- mm- wanna crush you.”

“You won’t, just keep kissing me.” And you do, you’ll kiss him for as long as he wants.

#matt murdock #matt murdock fluff #matt murdock fanfic #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x male!reader #matt murdock x male reader #matt murdock x gn!reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x female reader #daredevil #daredevil fluff #daredevil fanfic #daredevil x reader #daredevil x you #daredevil x male!reader #daredevil x male reader #daredevil x gn!reader #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x fem!reader #400 follower celebration #marvel #marvel fluff #marvel fanfic #marvel x reader #marvel x you #marvel x gn!reader #marvel x male!reader #marvel x fem!reader #college!matt murdock

[performativezippers]

Thinking about how Kate had a bit of a gap between working at DIA and starting at the FBI, and knowing that she was estranged from Lucy at the time and while she was becoming closer to Tennant at that time, she didn’t seem to have many close friends, it makes me wonder how long it would have taken someone to notice if something happened to her in that period. I’m not sure what it is about Kate that makes me imagine her in sadder and/or lonelier circumstances

She's not supposed to be working right now. She'd tried to schedule so that she'd only have a weekend between jobs—wrap DIA on Friday and start FBI on Monday—but that hadn't worked. She'd been saddled with two full weeks between, and she'd tried to tell herself that it was fine, that she was in Hawai’i and people pay thousands and thousands of dollars for two week vacations in Hawai’i! She should go surfing and hike up a volcano and eat all the poke and moco loco and saimin she can handle and sleep late and use the fucking hot tub on her deck she never remembers she has.

But all of that only occupies her mind for a couple of days. She finishes at DIA on Friday, by Tuesday she's bored, and by Thursday she's breaking rules and wandering the Pearl offices, running into Lucy and making jokes that fall flat, sneaking info to Tennant about the Maggie Shaw hearing like she still has a job.

She gets slightly busted, though. Not majorly, but Dale from DIA sees her and says something about "hey, aren't you off the clock these days, Whistler?" with something like a smirk because he’s always hated her—most men do, when you're better at the job than they are and take less time to do it—and she'd had to back off.

No more field trips to Pearl, no more Lucy sightings. She spends one night drinking with Tennant but then the next week and a half are in front of her, bleak and empty, nothing to do but torture herself with memories of good times with Lucy and bad times with Cara and every single opportunity she had but passed up to make things right and get herself free and clear before it all blew up in her face.

She's usually fine on her own, not overly prone to loneliness. Or, well, maybe her usual baseline of loneliness is so high that it's hard for it to get to a level that feels significantly worse. She's not sure. But anyway, usually she's fine with being alone, and this week she's not. This week it hurts.

So of course this is the week she wakes up on her bathroom floor in a small pool of blood.

She's not sure how she got there. She's not sure why she's in the bathroom or how long she's been there. Her hand is sticky with blood. Once she can do anything other than just stare at it, her logical mind starts to slowly move forward. She takes in what she’s seeing. The blood is still kind of warm and wet, so she can't have been out that long. She finds her phone near her on the ground, the screen protector cracked. She hadn't sent anyone a text or made any calls, no indication of what happened.

She unsteadily climbs to her feet and looks in the mirror. From the floor she hadn't been able to tell where the blood had come from, but now she can see it's from her head. Or it must be from her head, because her hair is crimson and matted with it, on her right side just below and behind her ear. She looks down at the floor, and yes, there. An impact mark.

She’d fallen and hit her head on the ground.

In way this makes her feel better—head wounds notoriously bleed a lot. They always look worse than they are. In another way, this makes her feel worse. What the fuck happened? It’s seems like the falling happened before her head was hit, probably, based on what she’s seeing around her, so does that mean she passed out and then hit her head? And if so, what the fuck? Why? She’s never done that before.

She takes a few pictures with a shaking hand—of herself in the mirror, the floor, the scene, and then she washes her hands and shakily orders an uber.

It feels weird to get into a stranger’s car when she’s this vulnerable, not sure what happened or if it’ll happen again, literally bleeding from a head wound, but she doesn’t have other options. She’s not about to drive and endanger other people, and there’s no one she can call.

She thinks for a second about calling Tennant, but it’s late and Tennant has kids and just because they drank together once doesn’t mean she wants Tennant to see her like this. She thinks for five seconds about calling Lucy. If this happened to Lucy, if Lucy woke up five minutes ago covered in her own blood, shaking and confused, Kate would want to be called. She would want to get that call, to race over to Lucy’s apartment and take her to the hospital and wait for her and take her home and make her comfortable and take care of her, even if Lucy still hates her.

If she found out this happened to Lucy and Lucy ordered a fucking uber to the hospital, she’d be pissed as fuck.

But she’s not Lucy, and Lucy isn’t her, and Lucy won’t talk to her. Lucy still hates her, and Kate deserves it.

So Kate calls an uber.

She changes her bloody shirt, puts on a baseball hat and a jacket with a popped collar, and doesn’t give the driver a good look at the right side of her head. The drive isn’t long, but the waiting room at the hospital is full. She’d have thought that bleeding out of her head would get her seen quickly, but everyone seems pretty blasé about it. She waits for hours, her head aching and her vision swimming.

Other people go up to the charge nurse, saying things like, “My mother has been here for two hours, how long until she’s seen,” and “When will my daughter’s discharge papers be ready,” and “My husband is having trouble breathing.”

She wonders if she’s the only person there alone. The girl next to her doesn’t have anyone with her but Kate can see her phone, and she’s texting someone who is asking her for regular updates.

Kate doesn’t text anyone.

It’s five hours before she’s seen. She gets asked the same questions four times—nurse, other nurse, intern, resident—and gets a few tests before she gets four stitches and she’s sent on her way. What happened? They couldn’t possibly speculate. All her tests are normal. Go home.

If she had someone to text, she’d say, “Jesus I should have stitched myself up at home. What a waste of time,” or “Our tax dollars hard at work!” but instead she calls herself another uber and she goes home.

She cleans the blood off her bathroom floor and her sink.

It’s the early morning now, but she puts on pajamas and climbs into bed, wondering with every step if she’s about to pass out again, to fall again and hurt herself again. To wake up in another pool of her blood.

She thinks about texting Lucy something like, “if you don’t hear from me in the next 12 hours, can you please send a wellness check to my apartment, I need to make sure I wake up,” but that seems excessive and worrying and extreme and like something you might text a friend. Or, well, no. If she isn’t close enough to have told Lucy this happened, she’s not close enough to ask Lucy to make sure she’s okay now. She’s relied on herself up until now, and that’s how it’s going to have to be.

She sets alarms for herself for every two hours—the doctors didn’t tell her to but better safe than sorry, and she lies down on her left side.

Her head hurts. Her body aches. She’s cold and shaky and afraid. She pictures her blood sinking into her pillows, pictures someone finding her decaying body in a week and a half when she hasn’t reported in for work.

She doesn’t sleep well.

The next time she sees Lucy and Tennant, she doesn’t mention it. Tennant says, “how are you, how was your time off,” and she says, “it was fine.” Lucy doesn’t say anything at all.

[if you want a lucy part 2, lmk]

#WHY DO I KEEP WRITING SAD WHISTLER HEADCANONS #what is wrong with me #somebody stop me #zipps fic #ask zipps #kacy #kate whistler #lucy tara #ncis hawai'i #ncis hawaii #zipps mini fic

[rocketrouquine]

Random thoughts on my second viewing of episode 2 :

The « you wear fine things well » replay : Taika hasn’t the same expression, when I tell you this is a different take, I’ll bet my script supervisor ass on it. If they did that, it’s for underlining the fact that they weren’t seeing the same thing in the relationship…

Stede, my sweet angel… maybe don’t tell everyone you meet (even your lovely towel collegues Maggie, Jane and Tiff) about your heart trouble with fucking Blackbeard.

The way he’s saying « they draw him to look like a ghoul » is so sooooo gay. Like disgusted sassy sista level.

Fuck you that’s how I am may or may not become a motto of mine.

Actually this whole scene, Lucius is in a fucking telenovela. The stop in the doorframe, talking across your shoulder without turning and the little disappointed head nod at the end. « oh, yeah. Now you care ? » (it just missed an hairflip) He came to ham and I’m here for it.

Sea witch again. I mean we actually saw him talking with birds last season so why the surprise.

Ed behind Frenchie in every room like a fucking dead child jumpscare in leather.

He’s actually terrifying all calm and smiling. You can sense that he can turn at every second. Like a MF snake (you know the ones, fuck yuuuuu)

Sir when you approach me like that, all analytical and stuff, I don’t think there’s anything I won’t let you do to me (imagine Ed turning this on Stede in the bedroom pffffiouuu)

*Wheeze « A panto ? » (give this man an Oscar)

I really have trouble with « he’s our dick ».. you are aware that this is the man who had absolutely no problem stranding your love on an island ? Who pushed for it, even ? That in the memory you evoke, he’s the only one not sitting with you all, all alone in the background sulking ? I guess if you consider him like the nasty old dog who bites everyone and barks all the time, I can see it…

You have hope, it’s cute . Archie is actually really interesting because she represents the classic pirate (like Ed’s crew before being Stedefied), being put amongst the crew of what she thinks is probably the rockstar of captains but they do things all weird and emotional (between bloodbaths). You can see that she’s tempted but also don’t hesitate to throw the first punch in the battle to the death because that’s how stuff goes.

Take the fucking leg (« …bitch » very much implied)

The little ships were all over the place. They kinda treat Olu like a himbo this season which if my memories serve me right was the opposite of what he was last season. (He’s still emotionally intelligent but the logical sense seems to have gone. In this scene anyway)

Every time a new character says China, I cannot take out of my mind that they are mocking Trump. (Roach’s one in particular was spot on)

Awwww Olu’s all bashful and shit, I’m sure he’s moving his shoe on the ground, like a little shy child.

Stede, All happy about the soup : So wild it’s insane ! Lucius, eyes rolling to the back of his head : Jesus Christ, Stede, keep your pants on. * gets up and go drag on his cigaret like an old nihilist prostitute. * Ahahaha! Lucius is so done with Stede, I can’t ! He reminds me of me with my mom when I was a teenager. (I was horrible)

shitty pathetic incompetent captain  Holy shit, this burn must have dried up the ocean and that’s why they have to drag the boat on land.

The Oookay of Black Pete must be studied.

I had a dream about you last night  and with that phrase, all Blackhands shippers burst into flames. To then die a horrible death for the next minutes and being turned to dust at … best I could. (Also, If I had told you about « good for you » « it was good for me » I don’t think this is how you would have envision it)

But seriously the acting in this scene was INSANE. (I mean more than good, I mean stellar)his laugh is haunting me.

Wait… wait.. is he doing the romcom trope of being horrible to him so that he would leave, to protect him ? but instead he tortures him until he has no choice but to kill him ? Ed, darling, you basic trope girl.

Yeah I guess we could call it closure. Hum.

Yeah, I am ! And I’m alone ! Don’t be like me. Stede has evolved SO MUCH. I’m actually very much hopeful about the discussion he’s going to have with Ed. It won’t be miscommunication bullshit.

The puppet game… Something tells me Lucius won’t like to listen to Pinocchio anymore. Don’t even ask him to make any voice. Stede! The hand went where you think!

Well, Hello back little black scarf which goes with everything ! Especially with the ultimate descent into the pitts of madness and despair.

Stede is choosing « alive » on Blackbeard old poster : thank you, magic of belief, for saving Ed’s life !

There’s a drawing, I repeat, he doodled Ed’s face amongst little bouts of emo poetry… oh stede.

Beheading, arsoning, just a little bit of a dick love of his life.

HE’S NOT BROKEN. SHUT UP !

calm down, you two, with the head against head : you kissed once. In the words of spicy rat boy « Jesus Christ keep your pants on »

Romance novel cover one legged indestructible little fucker Izzy under the rain.

IZZY’S HEAD ON FANG’S SHOULDER AS THEY ARE KILLING ED, WHAT !

After the pyramid scheme, Olu being the get away text.

Okay, on to the next. It will be a fucking novel.

#ofmd #our flag means death #ofmd s2 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #our flag means death season 2 #thoughts #second viewing #ofmd meta #i had notes

[thesherrinfordfacility]

am i missing something in kinda comparing the entire maggie and nina situation to paris? 'cause there was no need to get them to fall in love. a&c might not be able to make people actually feel it, but they seem to have mind control down pat without much effort (or any moral quandaries). they could have waited for an angel to show up and just faked it- easy, certain way out. it's not like the idea of working together like that is even weird, not after the gabriel miracle.

so. either they missed it, which is plausible, and uhhh, renders this whole ask pointless, or *would* have moral issues with it (also plausible💀), or they're being completely ridiculous again, and would rather plan balls than actually make an effort to get themselves out of Mortal Fucking Peril (not that aziraphale necessarily knows it is). i think it would fit the pattern, honestly- when not having huge blowouts over *problems of their own making* (hey aziraphale kill this kid it'll be fine, aziraphale why won't you ditch earth with me, crowley why won't you come to heaven with me), the ineffables always seem to be constantly, aggressively orbiting eachother, making heart eyes and goofing off (cough end of the resurrectionists "not kind" cough) with 0 regard for safety except for the (very very sadly i can't find the -ennial word for every other century) occasional heart attack, and then just skipping right back down the aisle.

(hope this is coherent, i've been editing things a little too long to tell)

hello @aq-uatic my darling!!!💕

(bby im so sorry!!! i thought i had posted this ages ago and i went rooting around in the drafts to continue something else and realised i hadn't!!! im an idiot sorry!!!)

i think there is some context behind aziraphale's actions in particular with this scene:

we know that aziraphale has a fondness for maggie, that i'd argue goes slightly beyond the fondness he has for humans in general (and even then that's questionable at times), and he seems genuinely put out that he's not in a position to help her - to wiggle his fingers about, and make it happen for her (horrifying implications, aziraphale, but we move). so, whilst aziraphale obviously is prompted into the whole 'lets-make-these-two-humans-fall-in-love-bc-that's-totally-normal-and-okay' by holding the everyday record back in the bookshop, i think there is an element of aziraphale genuinely wanting to help her, and coming up with the ball is his interpretation of an organic way to do that (💀). but it doesn't justify the whole thing one little bit; despite the possibility of that being his intention, it's completely batshit - nina certainly didnt know, let alone consent, to anything, and maggie didn't either; they're not dolls for either of them to play around with.

essentially though, i agree - any logical, coherent, sensible thinking would have probably just helped them arrive at a solution that didn't involve warping reality and bringing a whole room of people under a horrifying amount of hypnosis. but you have two supernatural creatures who, in a fairly major way by the time of 2023 at least, have their sense of existing amongst humanity influenced by not only the clandestine, dramatic nature of their own story, but by their tendencies towards damsel-but-not-wholly-in-distress-ing and anti-hero-at-best-ing respectively. we have to barely scratch the surface to see the intertextuality between these traits of theirs, and where they might stem from stories told in certain books and movies (emma by jane austen, and james bond spring to mind).

they constantly talk in riddles to each other, in code and in double meanings - they may somewhat understand the general sense of what the other is saying, but it's not categorical and leaves too much room for error or misinterpretation (which, ultimately, it does). it's a constant dance circling each other, ebbing and flowing, pulling in and drawing back, but never coming together properly; it's a quadrille vs. a waltz.

it makes sense that they are so used to finding the most roundabout and convoluted ways to do things, and this continues into s2, because not only is it how it tends to go down in fiction, but also because that's literally how they've had to exist - not only so their closeness isn't detected, or so their true natures aren't suspected by their respective head offices, but also by nature of being literal supernatural creatures living amongst humans - sleeper agents, of a kind - and constantly having to exist without detection.

none of this makes it right, of course not - but i actually don't think they see any other way of going about things. they're so good at it, so well practiced, that (as just two examples) they run verbal rings around gabriel/metatron (book) and beelzebub chattering about the great vs. ineffable plans at the airfield, and they dance around the most straightforward solution to the maggie/nina problem. as for themselves and their relationship, they dont speak plainly to each other until the bandstand or final fifteen... and even then, i feel like its aziraphale that is maybe the first to break and speak plainly? idk:

i think it's clear that crowley is the more scared, and therefore the more cautious, in this regard. for all his objections attempting to distance himself as an angel compared to crowley's being a demon, aziraphale feels to me that he is the more inclined to throw caution to the wind. i think its because crowley understands the danger in blowing their cover a little more than aziraphale does - aziraphale on multiple occasions slips in nearly admitting their closeness (1800, end of 1827 as you pointed out, and when meeting with the archangels in heaven in s1) - and is still stuck in the safety that dancing around what should be plainly said affords them. they both - as you wonderfully put it - aggressively orbit each other, and breaking the holding pattern comes a little too late.

so no, i think your drawing the parallel between the Weird-Ass dynamic in 1793, how they handle the maggie/nina storyline, and then how they behave with each other, is very apt! but its, at this time, arguably all that they've known - acting in this way - and breaking the cycle is starting to happen, but won't pay its dividends until s3✨

#this is a new angle for me to think about and therefore not well written and you have my apologies for that #good omens #ask #s2 meta #flashback meta #crowley meta #aziraphale meta #feral domestic/final fifteen meta

[wontlasttwodays]

Honestly, the best thing about ep 5 was how happy rick makes michonne and i still do not understand the decision to jump 6 YEARS into the future after the bridge, actually it is kind of amazing that out of many twd and gimples strange writing choises rick and michonne's relationship remains unscaithed even in the mothership show, i've been rewatching on a loop all of their scenes and it is incredible that there is always very clear emotional and logical throughline in their relationship. In the words of the famous rick grimes, how did we get so lucky?

Hey Anon,

We got lucky because we fell in love with characters who were also loved by their talented actors. And even as their careers grew and moved on they stayed committed to only telling the story they wanted to tell.

Artists say make art for yourself. Write the story, make the movie that you'd want to watch. That is what The Ones Who Live is. It is the moments, the conversations, the stories, the conflict that Andy and Danai wanted to see. You can tell in the "behind the scenes" interviews with Gimple when he's uncomfortable with the story, it's not what he would have written. Take EP5 where he points out that the engagement/commitment ceremony "was driven by Danai as a story idea."

I greatly appreciate Gimple giving credit where it is due, but I think it shows the difference between a Gimple production vetted by AMC executives and our series which was protected by Danai at every level. [I think Andy was fine with anything just as long as he got to makeout with his TV Wife in every episode.]

I'm allowing this mini-series to erase seasons 9 through 11 for me. Because ultimately I felt betrayed by the writer's room. Every single storyline either abused Michonne's humanity, called into question her choices, and subjected her to cruelty unmatched by any other character. The most poignant example - compare how the community came together for pregnant Lori, pregnant Maggie, and not for pregnant Michonne. How everyone questioned her leadership. Later as a send off for the character, how she was entrapped and subjected to horrible hallucinations of what if she [was a completely different person, with completely different values and motivations] and was a Savior. THAT was her send off, plus leave your kids during a building war with the Saviors.

The TWD writers loved making an example of Michonne. Forcing her to fight harder for community, acceptance, because she was a strong, Black, female leader. I think part of the time jump was avoiding her vulnerability. Her exhaustion at feeding, raising, and being emotionally available to her kids [or not]. To be fair, they did the same with Maggie, can't be in mourning, can't be motherly. If boys can't relate then it can't be in the show.

That realness about Michonne, the need for love, EMOTIONAL safety, and joy, while simultaneously being the best fighter, survivor, leader - that is what Danai wanted to give us.

And even further, vulnerability, emotional availability is a strength in TOWL. Jadis. Pearl. Rick. They make bad decisions to run away from their vulnerability. But emotional connection and the need for it "cannot be denied." Michonne said that in EP4. Jadis and Gabriel showed that in EP5.

TOWL is in dialogue with the TWD mothership. It's saying living for our heros is more than safety. more than toughening up through trauma. more than moral tests of right and wrong. more than soldiering, rebuilding, working, farming, shopping.

Living is also tender, fragile, soft. Everyone, in every age, including Rick and Michonne deserve to prioritize being cherished, dear, vulnerable.

The CRM treating vulnerability as the enemy is their weakness (as seen in Fear the Walking Dead and The World Beyond) and will be their downfall.

#que Seasons of Love from Rent #thanks for the ask! #sorry for the long post I'm in my feels tonight about what could have been in TWD and what was rescued in TOWL

[vroomvroommbtch]

So it goes: Chapter 33 - MI x OC

Masterlist

Summary: A new apartment and shit ton of Christmas decorations might be a lot but it's nothing they can't handle, especially when they had handled way worse things.

Pairing: Michael Italiano x fem!OC

Warnings: Fluff all over the place.

Word count: 8.2k

A/N: HELLO KIDS. Its been forever and I’m SO sorry but life has been insane. Hope you’re all doing great and the new year is treating you alright. I know someone told me at some point they wanted to see M&M living in a new apartment and all that, so here you are. There’s so other news in the chapter, so I hope u like it. ANYWAY I’ll really try post more often lol Love you and see u soon!

---

Chapter 33 - Its beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

The first time Michael mentioned the idea of looking for a new apartment they were in Austin. It was just one of those regular nights where Maggie would snuggle extra close to him just because the bed felt somehow too big and sleeping practically over him felt way better. She was happy, heaven knew she was nothing but happy. They were in Austin, Michael had a constant smile on his face thanks to being in one of his favorite places in the world, Olivia was nothing but an excited thing because she absolutely loved horses and her whole family was just at peace there. Between live music, brisket and laughs, everything seemed to be alright at least for a while.

Plus, Maggie and Michael were still in their little cloud of love, excitement, and happiness about being engaged. Even when they still had zero ideas or plans for their wedding, Maggie was happy and still tearing up every single time she looked at the beautiful engagement ring in her hand. She was still trying to process the fact that she was marrying the love of her life at some point in the next year and that was everything she needed to have a smile on her face.

Michael mentioning it wouldn’t be bad to start looking for a bigger place made that smile even bigger. After finishing her cup of tea, Maggie was holding her Kindle with one hand while playing with Michael’s hair with the other one. Meanwhile, Michael was doing more of the same, just reading one of his books while resting his head against Maggie’s chest, using her as a pillow. When Michael left his Kindle on the side and turned around to hug her, Maggie thought he was already too sleepy and ready to call it a day and sleep, but she was nothing but wrong. Breaking the silence of the room, he just threw a soft ‘We could move to a bigger apartment next year’ while he looked up at her as if he said the most casual thing in the world. He said the most casual thing in the world, but Maggie felt like her heart grew a hundred times bigger while hearing those words.

They didn’t mention it again until they were back in London after the race in Austin. Maggie was just sitting on the couch, her favorite blanket wrapped around her shoulders like a cape as she was focused on her tablet, drawing what was supposed to be one of Michael’s Christmas presents. She was still playing around with ideas and colors, trying to decide on the final concept and design for it. She knew it was October and she still had time, but she was starting to get irritated with herself. She had other stuff to do. She had too many things to do. She needed to finish some things for Michael’s website and Instagram, not even mention she still had to finish a bunch of things for his new app, so Maggie was stressed.

Normally Jas was the one in charge of that, working with him for as long as they have met each other, but one day they decided to pass it to Maggie. Jas insisted for centuries, saying it was going to be way more logical if Maggie did it, but every single time the youngest sister refused. Jas repeated time after time that Maggie could do exactly as she did or even better, and Michael insisted it was gonna be just fine, but Maggie just dodged the bullet time after time. It was too much pressure, and she was terrified of fucking it up, so she said no, but once Olivia was born things changed. Jas had too much between a husband driving a shitty car every weekend, a newborn baby, a sister with love problems, Daniel’s collections, and life in general so as soon as Maggie and Michael were on normal terms again, she passed the crown to her sister.

Maggie couldn't say working with Michael wasn’t fun. Damn, it was more than fun, but the problem was the pressure she put on herself. She needed it to be perfect, and even when her boyfriend promised it was all perfect, she would still look for things to correct. She was always a perfectionist, but it was worse when it was for Michael. That’s why that gloomy afternoon in London, she ended up yelling that she needed a desk. She knew it was the stress talking. She didn’t need one to work, especially considering she would normally rather be on the couch than on a chair, but that day she was just stressed. Her back was hurting after hours working, her wrist was bothering her, her feet and hands were cold, and the goddamn neighbors were renovating their apartment upstairs and it felt like they were demolishing the whole building, so she was a mess. It took Michael a warm cup of tea, a back massage, a pair of her warmest socks, some music, and taking her tablet away ‘for at least one hour’ to calm her down. But all that came also with a hug that turned into some much-needed snuggles and a promise of starting to look for a new place with enough place for a desk as soon as they came back from Perth, which was thanked with kisses and even more hugs.

After that, jokes came and went with Maggie saying she wanted a piano in their new place simply because she always wanted to learn how to play, Michael blaming Maggie for things not fitting in the closet because of how many shoes and clothes she had, Maggie saying there was not enough space for her mugs thanks to the weird stuff and spices Michael had in the kitchen, Maggie saying again she didn’t want to make Michael choose between his static bike or her and how at some point they would need to find space for a crib for Olivia since she was growing too fast.

The third thing that made them decide to move was Maggie fucking up her wrist. It was something as ridiculously silly as picking up Olivia’s toys from the floor, but Maggie found one behind some of Michael’s weights in the living room, so instead of calling him she decided he could pick it up on her own. The problem wasn’t the weight but the weird position she was in. Trying to stay balanced on just one foot to not step into another of Olivia’s toys, Maggie lost her equilibrium and, to prevent falling to the ground, she tried to hold herself from one of the walls of the living room. She could feel something was wrong with her wrist as soon as she did it, but like always she ignored it thinking it was nothing. She ignored it for a whole day, but the second she had to pick up Olivia, Maggie knew something was not right.

She tried to brush it off, insisting and promising it didn’t hurt that much, but on the second day, Michael just dragged her to see a doctor who, after checkups, an x-ray, and even an MRI, told them her right wrist was a mess. After overworking herself until she was exhausted and after spending most of her waking hours drawing and especially after a lifetime doing it, Maggie’s right wrist was a disaster. To a greater or lesser extent, it was always bothering her, but at some point it just became normal. Except for that time when the pain wasn’t normal and they found out her wrist was fissured. It was just like her left wrist months earlier, but this was worse considering the years of damage. It was way worse considering there was a chance she might need surgery in the future. Michael felt more than guilty when he heard that probably picking up his weights was the reason her wrist finally gave up. He felt terrible knowing he should have taken her to see a doctor months ago, even when Maggie assured him she was fine. He felt awful knowing he should have known better ‘cause it's my job to know and to look after you, Mags’. He felt so damn guilty that the first thing he said after leaving the doctor's office was ‘We really need to move’ as he kissed her forehead while they walked.

But the last thing that made them move was not Maggie’s wrist or any of that, but her present for Michael’s birthday. After the weird kind of terrible year they had, and especially after the terrible couple of months Maggie knew she made Michael go through, she wanted to do something special for his birthday. Damn, after she wasn’t with him his last two birthdays thanks to lockdown, restrictions, work, their time off, and her stupidity, Maggie felt like she should do something huge.  

Being a good girlfriend and staying by his side while Michael watched the World cup matches was something she was already planning to do, mind-blowing sex was clearly on the list too, his regular gifts were on the way or wrapped to put inside her suitcase and she swore to finish every single thing that she had to do for his business but she wanted something else. But right after she was about to give up on her plan to find something amazing for Michael, Lily showed up out of nowhere saving her.  

After finding the gift, Maggie needed to find the perfect time to give it to Michael. She didn’t want to do it at midnight with a probably half-asleep Michael, she didn’t want to give it to him in the morning when she was probably gonna be half asleep. For some stupid reason, she didn’t want to give it to him with the rest of his gifts after he came from the gym and before they went to have lunch so she waited till after his birthday dinner celebration. She could see in Michael’s eyes how he thought of something completely different when she whispered in his ear that she had another surprise. His hand sneaking and squeezing her ass on the elevator was enough to let her know he was thinking about something different and it made it even funnier. Her main plan was to tell her boyfriend to do whatever he wanted with her until they were an absolute mess who would probably have to crawl all the way to the airport the next day, but as soon as they got to their hotel room, Maggie gave him the other little surprise.

She could see the confusion on his face as she saw Maggie grabbing a green envelope from her carry-on suitcase. Damn, she could even see the panic go through his eyes but then it all went to total confusion as he opened and saw the pictures inside. There was something hilarious about Michael looking at the five Polaroids that he took from inside the envelope. But when he finally asked ‘What’s this, babe? And I know it's a puppy, but what’s going on?’ was when finally Maggie explained it.

It was a normal FaceTime with Lily and her parents that started the idea. It was Lily’s parents’ dogs the ones to blame for having puppies and then it was Lily’s mom the one who started with the joke, asking if Maggie didn’t want one of the puppies. Her first answer was no. There was no way they would have a puppy for hundred reasons, but the most important one was they didn’t have time. They barely had time to go on dates from time to time. Damn, Michael barely had time to take care of Maggie, Daniel, and the rest of the family, so adding another living thing to the equation was a no. But then the camera pointed to a little brown Cavalier King Charles Spaniel with ears longer than its head and something just clicked. That little black button nose and those black eyes shot straight to her heart and Maggie knew she had to do it. Maggie knew how much Michael loved dogs, and she knew how badly he wanted to have one in the future. Damn, even she wanted to have one since she was a kid, but for too many reasons it never happened. But if she was gonna be more time at home the next year, she could take care of the puppy and she felt like she owned Michael after he agreed on bringing Elizabeth to London with them, so it all made sense. Plus, their pets would keep her company when Michael was away, and Lily agreed to look after the puppy and Elizabeth if Michael and Maggie weren’t home, so it made sense.

She could see Michael's eyes opening wider and wider with every part of the explanation and how his smile got bigger every second that passed, but nothing compared to the look on his face when Maggie finally said that if he wanted, that little lady was all theirs. With the huge clear difference between their body sizes, Michael was always extra careful with Maggie. He could lift barbells that weighed the same as Maggie so he could manhandle his girlfriend like nothing, and that night that was the case. Grabbing her as easily as he would carry Olivia with one arm, Michael threw her over the bed, got over her, and covered her face in kisses, repeating again and again and again that he loved her more than anything in the world. Meanwhile, Maggie was a mess of giggles, trying to ask if that mean yes to the puppy thing. Of course it was a yes. It was probably the biggest yes after the day they got engaged, so it was a lot to say. After that, it was just all laughs, kisses, and then clothes flying to the floor. The good thing is Michael loved his birthday present so damn much and he was so happy that he ended up begging Maggie to do whatever he wanted to him, which ended up with Maggie riding him until her legs felt like jelly.

The funny thing was that, even if Lily’s parents promised to look after their new tiny furry baby until they were back and ready to pick her up, Michael couldn’t wait a goddamn week to go pick her up. He couldn’t even wait three days to go, and Maggie couldn’t be happier they didn’t. Their puppy was gorgeous without a doubt, but there was nothing as seeing her huge fiancé laying on the floor with that little thing waving her tail as she was licking Michael’s nose. There was nothing as seeing Michael’s smile and hearing his happy laugh while he played with their new baby. There was nothing as funny and adorable as seeing Michael looking at their puppy sleeping on his chest while he thought about names, insisting that not only should it be perfect but it also should be one that went well with Elizabeth. That’s how they decided to go for Penelope, because like Maggie insisted ‘It's cute and she can also kick us, like Penny in Criminal Minds’.

The one that wasn’t so sure about Penelope was Elizabeth and Maggie felt nothing but terrible about it. From purring and going from her lap to Michael’s, Elizabeth was nothing but a golden ball of fur and love who loved cuddles. She loved to be petted and be around people, but suddenly they walked in with Penelope in Michael’s arms and Elizabeth disappeared under the bed in Aoife and David’s apartment. When she decided to finally come out again, she wouldn’t even pay attention to anyone. She would mind her own business, go eat and play with her toys without paying attention to anyone, especially not Penelope.  

When they got home it was way worst and, it broke Maggie’s heart. Since the night Elizabeth meet Michael, every single time he was home she would try to sleep over his chest all while Maggie joked saying she couldn’t blame her because she loved it too, but that it was her place to sleep. Every single night it was the three of them it was the same silly discussion, with Maggie talking to the cat as if she would understand, Elizabeth ignoring Maggie as she purred all happy, and Michael trying to not laugh and convince there was enough space for both of them.

But none of that happened for the three days they spent in Dublin and it was probably worse when they went back to London. For another three days straight, Maggie was nothing but convinced everything they did was a bad idea. Elizabeth was a couch potato and, like any puppy, Penelope was an overexcited ball of fur who just wanted to play with her strange and new roommate. On top of it, they were in a new place for both of them, but while Penelope didn’t seem to care, Elizabeth looked pissed. To say terrible was an understatement. She felt like the worst human being in the world. She felt nothing but guilty about everything. She felt like the worst human being in the world. She felt like the worst mother in the universe, even if her kids were a cat and a dog. It was even worse when Elizabeth would walk past by Penelope and completely ignore her, pretending she wasn’t even in the room. And like every single time, Maggie had no idea what she would have done without Michael. He was the one who insisted she wasn’t bad and that Elizabeth just needed time. He was the one who would pet Elizabeth at the same time as Penelope so they would understand there was enough love for both of them. He was the one who would wake up extra early in the mornings to walk Penelope and who would teach her stuff while Maggie tried to play with Elizabeth and win her love back. He was also the one saying they needed to find an apartment as soon as they went back, not only to have more space for them but also so they could stay apart if she didn’t end up getting along.

But what Maggie wasn’t expecting was to find an apartment that fast. They weren’t planning to move for the next couple of months, but anyway she would look around during her free time. She would also do it because she was convinced it would take them forever to find the perfect one. They knew it was going to be more than hard to find something with a terrace, a decent kitchen for Michael to do his meals to feed a football team, enough space for their things, and on top of that, a place that would allow pets. Their list had too many things and Maggie was convinced they would have to give something up, but they were somehow wrong.

Maggie was convinced it was gonna take them forever to find the perfect one, but one morning she found it. It was a beautiful apartment with a living room full of light, two bedrooms, a big kitchen -big enough for Michael-, a gorgeous bathroom, and a big terrace. The best part was that it was closer to Dan and Jas' apartment, so Maggie fell in love automatically. When she saw it, she sent Michael the link in a text saying ‘If u get it I might share the second room with you but just if u ask nicely’, to which Michael answered with a short ‘Mean’ followed by a heart emoji. They didn’t talk about it for days and Maggie almost forgot it until a Wednesday morning when Michael said he needed Maggie with him to do something later that day. The last thing she was expecting was to go see the same apartment in the afternoon. The last thing she expected was to fall in love with the apartment, which sucked because it wasn’t in their plans to move then. The last thing she also expected was to find out the next day that somehow, Michael talked to the owner and convinced him to rent them the place. She knew a lot of people went to see it before them, she knew they were probably the last ones on the long list of people wanting to rent it, but her bloody smart charming man got it and she was nothing but over the moon.

But even when she was happy and over the moon, she was also stressed as hell. The end of November came with the end of the championship, Daniel signing with Redbull, Jas being stressed as fuck about it, Isaac’s birthday and Michael’s birthday right after, and also Christmas shopping and preparation. On top of that, and right in the middle of all their plans and things to do before they left to finally go to Perth, they had to move. In the middle of all the mess, they had to pack their whole apartment, move and then try to reorganize their new apartment before they left which seemed nothing but impossible.

Michael told her one day that if someone knew how to make something impossible happen it was them. Against all odds they made their relationship work, so somehow after that November and December couldn’t be that bad or hard to deal with. Really it wasn’t that bad and somehow they did it. With help of their friends -which also served as a distraction for Jas- they managed to pack everything in almost no time. But once there were just a couple of boxes left to take, Maggie couldn’t help but tear up as they said goodbye to their old home.

She couldn’t help but cry because even if they needed more space, she was gonna miss that apartment. That was their first little shelter when nobody knew they were together. Those were the walls she missed every single day she was away. That was the place that kept them safe during part of the lockdown. That was the place she dreamed about when they were apart. That was their first home together and there were so many memories there that it hurt to leave even if they love where they were going. But like every single time, Michael was there to clean her tears, kiss the sadness away and hug her so tightly that all the fears would just disappear. Like every single time, Michael was there to whisper the exact words to make her feel better and even put a smile on her face. And between kisses, promises, and reassuring words, he convinced Maggie to take one last picture of them together there. ‘One last pic for the books’ he said because even if they had hundreds and hundreds of pictures, one last of them there wouldn’t hurt, so they did it before closing the door behind their backs.

Once the tears were dried and the boxes were in their place, the new apartment was nothing but a mess. Between furniture that they needed to decide where was gonna go, and things that now needed to find a new place, everything was a little disaster, but it ended up being one of the best nights of her life. They ended up ordering ramen and eating on the couch because the table, the coffee table, and the kitchen island were full of stuff. They listened to music with Maggie’s computer because they were too lazy to look for their collection of vinyls or even plug their record player. The only thing they managed to do was make the bed because Michael insisted they were going to regret it if they didn’t do it, and they were going to regret it especially when they were there without clothes blessing their new bedroom. And like every time, he was right  

They were living together and were absolutely happy and so in love that Maggie felt like a fairytale. That life with the man of her dreams was everything she ever wanted and everything she thought she was never gonna have until she met Michael. Then it was everything she thought she wasn’t going to be able to have because life was throwing nothing but bricks at them, but they finally made it, so she was happy. She knew Michael was happy too, the pride in his shiny eyes and the smile on his face was enough to let her know. Both of them were so happy Maggie normally would say it was nothing but irrational, but somehow she could imagine he was probably regretting every single one of his life choices the second he saw Maggie ignoring the boxes around the apartment to open the one that read ‘Christmas decorations’ on the side. Maggie knew perfectly fine Michael was probably wondering if the was alright when right in front of her there was an untouched box that said ‘Kitchen’, but those were her priorities that day.

When Michael came back home from the gym, Maggie was sitting on the floor, surrounded by Christmas decorations and it was all nothing but a mess. There was everything everywhere, and there was the Christmas tree in a corner of the living room, waiting to be decorated just like the rest of the apartment. And there was Maggie, with a happy smile on her face, making grabby hands as soon as she saw her boyfriend crossing the door.

“Grá! Thank God you’re here! I missed you and I need your big, wonderful hands” she exclaimed, forgetting about the fairy lights she was taking off the box.

“Hey, baby. I missed you too. You need me to turn this into Winter Wonderland or what?” Michael asked, leaving his stuff by the door, his jacket hanging behind it, and going straight to sit on the floor by her side.

“You’re not funny” Maggie affirmed, slapping his leg and throwing a garland at him. “And no, it's not gonna be Winter Wonderland, just a regular apartment decorated for the occasion” she shrugged, going back to her task of opening and untangling the lights

“Gimme a kiss first and then we talk about helping” Michael smiled looking down at her. And then Maggie forgot about the lights once again, letting them on her lap as she grabbed his cheeks, meeting right in the middle to kiss his lips a couple of times. And peak after peak they just kept smiling, not being able to erase the happy grins from their faces. “Now it’s better. The kids?”

“Napping like two champs”

“Don’t tell me, they’re on our bed” Michael guessed, kissing her forehead as he placed his arm around her shoulders. All Maggie did was hum and nod twice, leaning against his body. “At least they ain’t fighting”

None of them had much idea at which point it happened, but one day the cat and dog fight stopped. One night they came home from having their monthly date out in a cute little restaurant Maggie wanted to try, all to find Penelope and Elizabeth sleeping on their bed. They were each on different corners, Penelope curled right by the cushions and Elizabeth at the end of the bed, but it was a lot. It was such a huge achievement for their little family that they decided to take their funny business to the couch, where Maggie whispered against her fiancé’s mouth that she didn’t care where they were as long as he was inside her. But the second time they found them was probably the best, because they found them again sleeping in their bed, but this time side by side, snuggling right by the cushions making a huge ball of fur and love. From time to time the silly little fights were back, but it was more to play than to fight, so Maggie and Michael decided to call it an absolute victory.

“They don’t fight anymore which makes me very happy. I’m not such a bad mom after all” Maggie smiled sweetly, moving enough to reach his jaw and place a couple of kisses there. “Please don’t you ever shave” she purred and practically begged, lifting her hand to run her fingers through his cheek.

“And not having you complaining about my face leaving marks on you? Wouldn’t miss that for the world so no shaving my face, ma’am” Michael whispered against her forehead, playing with her hair as they snuggled together in the cold winter afternoon. “And I told you, you’re the best”

“Nah, that's you” she remarked, moving her lips from his jaw to his neck, leaving there a little kiss that was nothing but the promise of something more once they were done. “Did you have a good workout?”

“It was alright” Michael shrugged, moving her hair out of her shoulders and then stroking her cheek and jaw with her fingers.

“It was alright” Maggie shrugged too, imitating his Aussie accent and mannerisms almost to perfection, making Michael laugh just for looking at her.

“Did you have breakfast?” Michael asked, looking straight into her eyes, knowing how messy Maggie could be when he wasn’t around. Especially knowing how lazy she could be when it came to food. But to not disappoint her boyfriend she nodded, even if breakfast consisted of coffee and some cookies. “That’s my girl. Now, what do you want me to do?”

“I didn’t want to grab a chair to hang this so I was waiting for you” Maggie explain, pointing to the garlands and the fairy lights. “Also I kind of needed your help with my hair” she smiled, pointing to her head. With the wristband her doctor gave her, Maggie could barely move her wrist and she was ordered to make no sudden movements, so even putting her ponytail was something complicated. Besides, it was kind of funny to see Michael trying to be as delicate as possible with her hair and being amazing at it.

“I swear you’re the most breakable person I’ve ever met in my entire life, sweetheart. Now turn” he indicated, and Maggie obeyed, turning her back to him.

“Technically it's not broken. Technically I never broke any bones, so I’m just the most crackable person you’ve ever met. Besides you gotta practice, uncle Mike. We have a niece so one day you’ll have to make pigtails and ponytails. And don’t get me started with how you’ll need to learn at least three different kinds of braids. We’re already late with the lesson, mate” Maggie joked, closing her eyes as she enjoyed maybe too much the feeling of Michael running his fingers around her head.

She even had to make a really big effort to not moan a bit when Michael kissed her neck and shoulders once he put her hair and what she knew was probably a perfect ponytail. She had to make a big effort to keep it together when she felt his lips right under her ear, speaking so softly that it sent shivers down her back. “Ponytails I can make. Pigtails are the same thing, baby girl”

“Thank you, babe” she smiled as she leaned back and turned to kiss the tip of his nose. “And you’re right, sometimes I forget young Michael used to have a man-bun. When are you gonna let your hair grow again?”

Maggie knew what the question would bring and that was Michael’s frown as she said the word ‘Long hair’. It happened every single time she brought back the subject and at this point, Maggie did it once in a while just to see his confused face, never really understanding why the fuck she wanted him to grow his hair.

“Oh c’mon, not again!”

“C’mon, do it for me! For your Mags! Sweet little Margaret dies to play with that gorgeous long straight hair you used to have. Do it as my wedding gift!”. And as she over-exaggeratedly begged, she moved to sit on his lap, hugging his neck as she gave Michael her best puppy eyes, even when they both knew it was nothing but a joke.  

“Sweet little Maggie can play with the rest of me because the hair ain’t coming back. And I’ve something else in mind as a wedding gift for you, wife”

“Ugh, you’re impossible” Maggie complained, using all her theatre classes to act as overdramatic as possible while rolling her eyes.  

“Oh yeah? And when is pink hair Maggie coming back?” Michael asked, kissing her frown as he stroked her back and legs while he held her.

If Maggie was a pain in the ass always bringing up the long hair card, Michael was as annoying as she was, but with Maggie’s old pink hair. It started one terrible night after dinner with Jas, Daniel, Blake, and Olivia and it was all thanks to Jas that they found out about Maggie’s old look. Their family and friendship were some kind of weird thing when they all knew everything about each other, or at least almost everything. But probably one of the secrets best kept about Maggie was her colorful hair. Not that she was ashamed of it, but years later she just didn’t like how she looked in it. Even when her friends had pictures, she had counted ones of those days. That's the reason why she never mentioned it and why her friends and family who saw her back then never mentioned it, not even to Michael. But one day Jas didn’t think about it and before she realized it she was talking to Olivia about ‘Aunt Mags’ pink hair’, followed by a loud ‘Shit!’. She could never forget the boys’ faces when she said it, but especially Michael’s face. He was surprised but he looked delighted by the idea of Maggie’s hair looking like candy. While Blake and Daniel were asking like two curious boys if there was any proof of it, Michael was begging with his best puppy eyes to see ‘Just one pic’. And like every single time, Maggie couldn’t say no. She had no idea how the fuck to say no to those shiny brown eyes of his, so she asked Jas to look for the pics on her phone to unlock probably the last secret she had been keeping from the three stupid men at the table.  

From that day on, Michael’s comeback from the long hair jokes was the pink hair jokes. Just like Maggie loved how her fiancé looked with long hair, Michael swore that he loved how she looked with pink hair. Maggie had to admit that it made her happy to know Michael thought she looked beyond ‘beautiful, adorable, and sexy as fuck’ when she didn’t like herself at all in those pics. Damn, he was the reason why she was starting to think that maybe she didn’t look that bad back then, to the point that some days even she joked about going back to her old look saying she might go back to it.

She might joke about it some days, but that wasn’t one of those days.

“Never!” she exclaimed, slapping his chest playfully, trying to hide the obvious smile on her face. “I hate you; did you know that?”  

She tried, goddamn she tried, but the second he smiled at her and bumped the tips of their noses together Maggie lost it, smiling like a happy girl as Michael looked straight into her eyes. “No, you don’t. In fact, you love me very much which is pretty cool cause I love you very much too”

“Did I tell you how smart you’re? All that engineering and all those books ended up being good at some point”.

And like every time Maggie brought up his Engineer degree, Michael ended up tickling her sides until there was nothing but happy tears in her eyes and she was a mess of illogical words asking him to please stop because she was too weak to handle all that. And like every time, he would end the sweet little torture with kisses all over her face and neck while his arms squeezed her body against his, hugging her as tightly as possible without breaking her.  

“That’s payback for the jokes” he explained with one last kiss on her lips and a smile that not only lighten up his face but the whole goddamn room and even her heart. “What about you and your sudden overexcitement about Christmas? I know you like it but not this much” he wondered, pointing to the floor covered in decorations.

Michael was right, Maggie liked Christmas, but this year her excitement was definitely something else. This year it was a lot. This year was too many decorations, especially considering they weren’t even gonna spend Christmas there, just the first days of December until they left to go to Perth.

“It's just- it’s the first decent Christmas we have together. 2018 we weren’t together. 2019 we were kind of together but we didn’t spend it together. 2020 was shit cause you couldn’t see your family and then 2021 was shit cause we weren’t together and I was… Y’know” she tried to explain. But even if she tried, she couldn’t find a way to explain the disaster that was the previous year for her. She didn’t even want to explain it, but seeing Michael’s confused face let her know she wasn’t going to have another option. “C’mon, babe. Don’t tell me Danny and Jas didn’t tell you that I spent the night crying”

The smile disappeared from Maggie’s face when could see in his eyes that Michael didn’t know a thing. It broke her heart to see that he had no idea what she was talking about. “Nobody told me anything” Michael stated, looking straight at her as the grip of his hands around her body got tighter.

“I was just heartbroken. When I got your present it just ended up being kind of worse. I read your letter and started to cry like a baby, but I managed to be calm enough to call you. I didn’t want you to see me broken even when I thought you’d figure it out. You were always good at reading me, but I guess I managed to trick you” Maggie whispered, stroking his cheek with her hand as she smiled sadly at the memory. “When we hang up the phone I cried even more. I literally cried myself to sleep that night. Wasn’t pretty. It was really, really hard but it's alright”

“Mags, babe, I had no bloody idea about that night. I’m so so sorry” he apologized. He didn’t need to do it. Damn, the last thing he needed was to be sorry for something that wasn’t even his fault. He didn’t need to say anything because it was in the past and everything was fine now, but even then Maggie could see the guilt in his eyes and how he was thinking that he should have known. She knew he was especially thinking he should have done something.

“It’s alright, sunshine” she insisted, giving him a soft, loving kiss on his lips, hoping that would be enough to make the guilt disappear from his eyes. “I guess nobody told you to not make it worse. I didn’t tell you cause of that reason. We were far away, and I didn’t want to ruin your Christmas. You didn’t deserve a ruined Christmas when you were finally able to be with your family”  

“Hey, you’re my family. You’re my whole fucking world. I’m not gonna say a word about you not saying anything but what I can do is promise that will never happen again. We’re not spending another Christmas apart” Michael affirmed, and she knew that was a promise that he wasn’t going to break. It was a promise that neither of them was going to break ever again.

“I know. None of that sad shit this year” she smiled, stroking his cheek as she smiled sweetly at him. And she was so happy when Michael smiled back at her. She had no idea how a smirk could make her so damn happy, but there she was feeling her heart practically jumping out of happiness and her stomach turning into a mess of butterflies. “Besides hey, it's Oli’s first Christmas and we’re gonna be together in sunny warm Perth, so all good”

“You’re somehow omitting the fact that our families are spending Christmas together for the first time” Michael remember but Maggie didn’t forget about it at all.

She had no idea how it happened. Suddenly they were talking about Christmas plans with Dan and Jas and it was stupid, but the idea of not being able to be with Michael but also not being with her family and especially with Olivia started to be too much. Knowing that she couldn’t divide herself to be with the people she loved was haunting her and clearly, the three mirrors in front of her noticed. It took just one look between Michael, Jas, and Daniel for her fiancé to throw the idea of him spending it with them so he could be with Maggie and Olivia. But then it took another look and a denial from Maggie for Daniel to say ‘Just bring the whole family, mate’. That was the only option to make everyone -especially Maggie- happy, so they all agreed on spending Christmas eve at the farm. It was all fun and games until they realized what it meant to spend Christmas together. It was all fun until they realize their family was going to meet. They knew it was gonna be fine, there was no reason for them to think otherwise but every time they remembered they couldn’t help but think they were just a bit fucked up.

“No, I’m just saying all this to forget about that little detail. It's your parents and my parents finally meeting. I’m fucking terrified” Maggie breathed, resting her head against his shoulder as she looked for his hand to lock their fingers.

“It’s gonna be alright. It's not like you don’t know my sister or the rest of my family. Or like I don’t know your family” he explained, giving him the same argument every single time to make her stay calm. But even with that, she could see how even Michael was scared as hell.

“Yes, but this is not having brunch with your sister or a normal day with my mom and dad. It's our parents and grandparents all together in the same room” Maggie insisted, putting the tips of her ten fingers together in a silly way to show how it was gonna be to have them all together.

But even when they were scared as hell, she could see the little happy grin on Michael’s face as he grabbed her hands with his, kissing the knuckles of her right one. “My Nana and your Mamó together is gonna be fun”

“And our moms together? A mess. All that plus the Ricciardo's, so it's gonna be your mum, my mum, and Grace. Our sisters together. Can we cancel? Runaway somewhere else just you and me” she joked, giving him again her best puppy face.

“No, babe, we can't” Michael laughed, giving her pouty lips a little kiss. And then there was one of her favorite things about Michael: that perfect smile that somehow was saved just for her. It was the smile that he insisted was saved just for her because it would only show up when she was around. The one that would make her melt away and wonder again and again how she was so lucky to be with him. It was the smile that would remind her every single day that she was also lucky as hell because he was in love with her. It was the smile that would their friends joke about the ‘idiot look on his face’ when she was in the same room as him. It was the smile that Maggie always joked saying it was the reason she felt for him all those years ago the night they finally met and that still made her fall in love with him every single day. “Y’know, if twenty years ago someone had told me ‘Hey, that kid with black curls who runs with a helmet on in front of the gym is gonna make you meet the love of your life and end up being your brother-in-law and father of your goddaughter’ I would have laughed my ass off. I wouldn’t have believed it. That kind of shit just happened in movies”

“And here you are” Maggie whispered with a smile on her face as she brought their joined hands to her lips, returning the gesture and kissing his knuckles.  

“And here I am. I wouldn’t have it any other way, to be honest. Christmas mess, fucked up wrists, cat, dog, and all. I’m a very lucky guy” Michael shrugged as if all of that wasn’t big deal.  

“I’m a really lucky girl too, so I wouldn't have it any other way either” Maggie whispered, feeling the knot and the tears coming to her eyes which weren’t nice considering crying wasn’t in her plans that day. But there was no time for tears when they needed to put some order in their home, so she went straight to his lips to give him a couple of kisses, which always helped to put herself back together. “Now help me? Please? It's also our first Christmas tree so just indulge me, please. We do this, we put some order in this mess and then we can snuggle and watch a movie”

“I like how that sounds” he stated against her lips, giving her just another kiss. “Want pizza tonight?”

“Regular pizza or your low-carb fake one?” Maggie asked between closed lids, ready to fight her man if he wanted to make her eat something that wasn’t real pizza.

“Regular extra cheese for the beautiful lady” Michael affirmed, and Maggie wasn’t even surprised because he knew by heart all her orders.

“He knows me so well. What a shitty thing we don’t have a fireplace to cuddle up here”

“We can put one on the tv if you want”

“So we put a blanket on the floor, and have some fun there? Ain’t that too romantic?”

Maggie couldn’t help but laugh, but the look on Michael’s face was enough to let her know part of him wasn’t joking at all. It wouldn’t be the first time they had sex on the floor for some random reason. It wouldn’t be the first time they did it over a blanket either, so the smirk and the raised brow were kind of accurate. “I’m gonna be a cheesy bastard and say everything’s romantic when you’re around, sweetheart”

And it wasn’t enough for the day, there he had to go and melt her heart saying something like that. “Ugh, there he goes and wins the best boyfriend in the world award. Typical Italiano”

“Fiancé, sweetheart. Best fiancé” he corrected her with a smile so big that could light up the whole apartment. Even when they didn’t have a date, even when they had no idea where they were going to get married, and even when Maggie still haven’t started to see dresses, Michael would use every single chance he had to say Maggie was his fiancée. If the man spent three years being proud of saying she was his girlfriend, now he wasn’t going to waste a second or an opportunity saying he was going to marry his girl. "Yes, I love saying it so don’t gimme that look, tiny”

“I know you do” Maggie smiled, giving him one last kiss on his cheek before she got up from his lap even if she wanted to stay there all day. “Alrighty. Wait, how’s that thing you always say? We ain’t here to fuck spiders?”

“You’ve been hanging too much time with my sister, don’t you?” he asked while getting up from the floor and going to the other side of the living room

And of course, he was running away from her, knowing perfectly fine that the best thing to do was stay away from Maggie after such a stupid joke. “I’ve been running behind your ass for three fucking years, and you blame Nadia for me using Aussie expressions? That’s so mean of you!” she exclaimed, grabbing one of the plastic ornaments for the tree and throwing it straight at Michael. She knew it was gonna be useless cause the sportsman grabbed it like nothing, but she needed to try. “You’re lucky I don’t kick your ass”

“What were you gonna say, sweetheart?” Michael wondered changing the subject and blowing a kiss to her.

“We ain’t here to fuck spiders so let's do this so we can fuck on the floor, but especially so we can eat pizza” she scolded, acting falsely offended as she grabbed a couple of ornaments with her good hand.

But like every time, the fake frown and pout disappeared the second she felt Michael’s arms around her waist.

---

Taglist

@jamminvroomvroom @starlightoctavia @monte-carlando @dr3lover @brightlightsinlife @a-distantdreamer @pleasantducktimetravel @honeybadgercomeback​

#michael italiano #michael italiano imagine #michael italiano oneshot #michael italiano imagines #michael italiano blurbs #f1 #f1 oneshot #f1 imagine #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 fanfic #formula 1 oneshot #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula one fanfic #formula one imagine #formula one oneshot #formula one fic #so it goes fic

[alexis-royce]

I love your Stanley parable fanfic, I am so so excited for the full release of nonplatonic forms, and I am enamored by the gay old timey men. ludicael and hawley! if you don't mind, could you share more about them?

Fascinating, it appears I need to turn over this face-down card, you seem to have activated it.

Ludicael and Hawley were a pair of supra-natural researchers who had a big falling out over the ethics of how to fund their research. Their spooky spooky demonic research.

Harold Ludicael is a man who is made of compromises; he's so damn scared of getting in trouble that his moral compass changes with the wind. But he was also highly adept at presenting the right face for the right audience, something that made him a fine communicator, and a passably good professor. That was something that Hawley admired.

Just about the only thing Harry doesn't compromise on is his demonological and alchemical studies, which are his favorite topics. This is not due to any sort of ethical position, but merely because he has no self control whatsoever. He attempted to craft some self control, but merely resulted in creating:

Maggie is Harry's imp, repressed and locked deep inside himself, and is quite possibly part of the reason why he's such a limp wet towel of a man. Maggie and Harry trade off who's using the body, but they're more or less always awake at the same time. If you replay Serialized Killer, you might note times when one of them is reacting to the other's thoughts. Maggie is less quiet about it than Harry is.

Ludicael's last name descends from the surname Judicaël, which also split off into Gicquel. Huh. "Gee-kill." Why does that sound familiar?

A lot of songs remind me of him (like you do), but if I had a Z-grade budget to make Serialized Killer into a full game, I'd beg for this for the opening cinematic.

Also Harry is five inches shorter than he appears to be; the cuffs of his pants are hemmed unfashionably long to hide the fact that he does not leave the house in anything but custom platform dress-shoes. I'm looking forward to coding a height difference in his sprites in the future and making him shorter around the house with Hawley.

Speaking of Hawley! Hawley's mom was a pirate who died at sea, and her crew took him in. The open seas, however, are a TERRIBLE place to be when you have albinism. His father was a professor in a small seaside town, but by the time contact was mad, young Hawley had already been imbued with a fierce, uncompromising streak, and could not thrive in polite society. He frequently flees from the ship to the mainland and back when things get to be too much for him. Thanks to his father, Hawley was able to complete a formal education and obtain a doctorate.

"Uncompromising," by the way, is the best way to describe Hawley. He will list twenty-seven different reasons why your idea is worse than his before he even stops to consider your logic. Ludicael, who loves to get stepped on admires the inner fortitude required to be idealistic, found this to be unbelievably charming.

Annnnd I think I'll stop there, or I'll never actually get this posted.

#Lead Into Gold #The Case of the Serialized Killer #Harold Ludicael #Hawley Faraday #OCs

[adamwatchesmovies]

The Fog (2005)

Unfortunately, only two kinds of movies seem to get remade: great movies with a built-in audience that are almost guaranteed to disappoint viewers, and fan-favorite horror movies. Of all the films you could remake, I don’t know why anyone chose John Carpenter’s The Fog. Even in 1980, it was basic and didn't leave much of an impression. In 2005? It’s so unimaginative it fails to justify its own existence.

As the residents of Antonio Island prepare for their town’s centennial, artifacts from the Elizabeth Dane begin washing up on the beach. Soon, a mysterious fog rolls in. Within roam vengeful spirits tied to a dark secret.

The film basically gives away the reason for the ghosts in the opening scene but even if it didn’t, you’d guess it immediately. The Fog is so familiar. You swear you’ve seen this tale somewhere before. More than likely, it was in an episode of Are You Afraid of the Dark, around a campfire or in a children’s collection of spooky stories. It’s so generic you’re shocked by the ending. Was that it? No twists? No new angles? Nothing? Well, that’s not entirely true. There is a crazy reveal at the last minute but it makes no sense, whatsoever. In a way, it’s the ultimate “Gotcha!” because no one could ever foresee it. I don’t mean that in a good way. I realize I’ve just been criticizing this movie for doing nothing new and now I’m criticizing it for making the “interesting” choice to mix two seemingly contradicting versions of the afterlife but it isn’t enough for something to be unexpected; it also has to have some sort of logic to it.

I suppose we should talk about the film’s characters. They’re all descendants of the four founding fathers (though that seems impossible considering that opening flashback…), which should make the reason for the specters coming back even more obvious. Nick (Tom Welling) is surprised when his former girlfriend, Elizabeth (Maggie Grace), returns to Antonio Island after being away for six months. Her return isn’t tied to the fog. Something else has drawn her back. How "peculiar". She and Nick are… in love? Not really. They’re just together. We learn that in her absence, Nick and local radio personality Stevie (Selma Blair) were an item but nothing comes from it. In fact, I don’t think Stevie and Elizabeth do more than acknowledge each other during the whole film. Anyway, they’re the people we follow as the town gets torn apart by spooks hidden in the mist. You don’t care about them or about anyone put in danger. Driving to work with low visibility is scarier than The Fog.

The best thing about this effort by director Rupert Wainwright (whose well-known film might be Blank Check, not exactly an exciting filmmaking career) is the makeup effects. I wish I had more positive things to say, as even these raise more questions with no answers when we see them in modern day.

This picture is instantly forgettable. The “unrated” cut is so mild and dull it makes you wonder what the poor chumps who saw this in theaters did to stay awake. What’s frustrating is that John Carpenter’s The Fog isn’t particularly jaw-dropping either. It’s fine but from someone who kicked off the slasher genre, you expect something grandiose, and it isn’t. Remaking it was a golden opportunity to try something different. Apparently, “trying” was too much to ask. (Unrated version on DVD, April 26, 2022)

#The Fog #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #Rupert Wainwright #Cooper Layne #Tom Welling #Maggie Grace #Rade Serbedzija #Selma Blair #2005 movies #2005 films #horror movies #horror films

[soupbabe]

This is my first time doing a match up so I thought I'd finally buck up and get one :) Slashers or JJBA is fine I'm in both fandoms.

I'm 4'11, 19 and a she/her using bisexual. I love science and debate but I also love tender creative things like romance media and music, I especially love letting my more logical side help me analyze those things.

I'm fat and proud! An uber girly girl with a morbid fascination for all things gross and filthy.

p.s hi!! you and a really close friend of mine (jules owner) interact a lot and you seem so nice I hope to try and interact with you more and learn more about maggie

I match you with,,,

Dio Brando ♡

I just think this would be such a fascinating pairing!! I understand Dio is hard to get along with, but he loves keeping your attention on him. He loves debating with you, sweetening you up with his words, anything to get you talking to him. Even if it's doing anything he can to get under your skin

Don't get me wrong, he has a sweeter side! It takes a while to get him to be genuine about it, but it's easy to notice it. He's very dramatic and grand with his romantic gestures!! He'd give you your own library, make sure you have the best clothes, and would unashamedly kill for you ♡

#match ups #jjba #dio brando

[randomfoggytiger]

The Scully Family In-Depth (Part IV): Luthor Lee Boggs, Love, and Letting Go

Part 3 of the mini "Beyond the Sea" saga (I guess there was a lot to say about this episode~.)

**Note**: I'm going to sneak back and ghost edit later (for sanity's sake I will forbear... for now.)

Mulder “debunks” Luthor Lee Boggs as a psychic and Scully is visibly disappointed; but she settles back into her logical foothold (her rising right eyebrow and solidifying expression conveying a firmer, recovered conviction.) 

Even so, as she picks up her satchel and turns to leave, there is still a little disappointment-- 

but it collapses into when Boggs begins to sing "Beyond the Sea", arresting her to the spot in horror.

Her chills break into full-body shakes when Scully sees her own father in Boggs's place.

Scully is barely able to conceal her terror, literally clamping her mouth together to prevent a building scream from escaping; and she retreats against the observation glass until she has something she can put her back up against (a literal representation of a metaphor she uses after her abduction.) 

Struggling for calm and control, Scully cannot help but look back at the horror. Confirmation-- no matter how masochistic, horrifying, or grueling-- is vital to her modus operandi. 

“Did you get my message, Starbuck?” 

She is stricken: there is no way to understand this, there is no way to keep a hold of her self-control if she stays any longer. She visibly shakes in horror: she twists her head up higher-- tilting it in an almost birdlike angle for a split second-- and her chest and body vibrate in the face of the compounding surreal. 

So, Scully demonstrates, for the first time, how she handles personal problems or horrors that she cannot emotionally handle: 

Scully flees. 

When Mulder asks, “Did Boggs say something to you?” after seeing her obvious distress, Scully quickly rationalizes the entire situation away--

not lying to him so much as to herself: “No, I’m sorry. It’s my father.” Her expression sloughs away once more to the frail little girl seeking her father’s approval, the one she used when Captain Scully left her apartment (post here) and when she begged Maggie for answers at the funeral (post here.)

“I’m sorry,” she states before begging, voice softer and less stable, “I’m sorry.” 

Her feelings are so befuddled and confusing that Scully’s last expression is a mishmash between her crumbling interior and her false bravado-- the beginning of an “I’m fine” smile pulling at her lips. 

She downplays her own fears, rationalizing away what she’d seen as a symptom of being emotionally overwrought. "I'm sorry" is another way of saying "I was wrong" or "I failed", after all.  

Mulder tries to reassure her, but Scully is unable to be reached by any and all comfort. 

She flees the scene (again) only after Boggs joins them temporarily (still singing “Beyond the Sea”), tears welling up in her eyes and likely dropping down her cheek in the privacy of her car. 

After following a dangerous lead solo-- and confirming to herself that Boggs is truly a psychic-- Scully sets out motel chairs in a morbid recreation of the night her father died. While staring, on edge, at the chair, a flash of a memory of Captain Scully flits across the screen (a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment), showing the hyper-paranoia she is breeding internally. Her neck muscles contract harshly as she swallows; and her eyes, dilated in fear, spin around to the door when she hears a knock. 

Scully’s mind is stuck in a never-ending line, looping her back around to trip over and over again on her regrets, her failures, and her unprocessed grief surrounding her father’s death. It’s not until Mulder arrives that she “reorders” her outward appearance-- replacing the chair, cautiously telling her partner about her transgression, and trying not to betray her own blind and intense interest in her hope and belief. Mulder talks rationality back into her; but he cannot extinguish her doubts of his theory. 

When Mulder is shot and Scully is spewing her rage at Boggs, she is once again confronted by a passed spirit-- this time in a weird conduit-channeling of her younger self. 

“There was that one time when I was fourteen and my parents had gone to bed, and I snuck downstairs all alone. I got one of my mom’s cigarettes and went out onto the porch in the dark.” Boggs says, hunching up and girlishly grasping his hair. 

He portrays her youthful naivety, anxious rebellion, and thirst for attention by slowly and meticulously pulling his curls out straight, acting out a teenage girl’s laser-focus on her own looks born of an even littler girl’s deep desire to look pretty for daddy.  

Scully listens, engrossed and sickened, as Boggs relates her secrets back to her. Again, she tilts her head like a confused, stricken child (i.e., the funeral face mentioned above.)

Boggs talks on: “I was so scared. My heart was beating-- I mean, they [her parents] would have killed me if they knew.” 

Scully, too overwrought to resist any longer, pulls her arms away from her ears and resigns herself, almost breaking down as Boggs reaches into her mind and pulls out her past. 

“But I was SO excited. Not ‘cause of the cigarette-- I mean, it was gross-- but… because I wasn’t supposed to.” 

Scully is as violated here as she is when Naciamento forced his hand into her chest and tore at her heart. Luther Lee Boggs has reached into her mind and whispered out her secrets, showing her that no piece of herself is kept from him. She is stripped of that wall built around her emotions to protect herself from pain. What drives her, the grown woman, is the little girl; and that little girl was never able to hear her father’s words of love or see his pride “reinstated” before his death. 

She puts up a token resistance-- “It could be a moment from any kid’s life”--

but melts when Boggs divines her motives and calls her on it. Scully then struggles through her ask, tripping over her sentence in an effort to get the words out before she can second-guess or break down crying:

“I’ll believe you… if… you let me…” her voice cracks, audibly. She doesn’t care: “...talk to him.” 

When Boggs channels her father briefly (“Starbuck”), Scully is sick with relief.

Her happiness fades as Boggs reels Captain Scully back in, refusing to let him “out” until the psychic is cut a deal. In the face of his fervent demands, she is able to take control of her emotions, cooling down her feverish instability. 

This scene is vitally important because it illustrates the driving force behind her character, her motivations, and why she is so driven into reckless pursuit (and will for the rest of her life with “other fathers”): Scully is desperate because she does not feel loved by her father. She is driven by praise, by acknowledgement of all she strives to do for those she loves. Being “Starbuck” and top of her medical school brought her that directed love; but recruitment to the FBI stripped it away as her parents withdrew to nurse their wounds. A hug and banter and smiles were not enough-- would never be enough-- because she never knew how personally loved or valued she was by him (spoilers: yet.) 

Scully rejects Boggs’ assertion that the dead are welcomed into a “cold, dark place.” “It may be a cold, dark place for you,” she grinds out with the strength of a woman possessed of iron will, determination, and the conviction of being right, “but it’s not for Mulder. And it’s not for my father.”

That is her only certainty; and it restores her strength to her-- “I don’t believe you.” But it’s stripped immediately when Boggs twists her courage into a falsehood, shaming her into guilt over a lie she hadn’t really meant: “Oh, well, there’s plenty of space in that cold, dark place for liars, Scully.”

The episode concludes with Boggs’ tips saving the last victim’s life and Scully ultimately refusing his offer to speak with her father. At Mulder’s hospital bed, her only answer to his careful prodding-- (“You couldn’t face that fear? Even if it meant you never knowing what your father wanted to tell you?”, gentle in its execution and rough in its truthfulness) is a tired but peaceful “But I do know. He was my father.” 

For the first time, her voice isn't haunted; because the ghost of her father has been respectfully (and metaphorically) laid in his grave. Scully found freedom in accepting who her father was and what he had not given her. If Captain Scully didn't give her those words in life, what good would they do if spoken through the mouth of a twisted man after death? 

Scully, like her mother, let him go with love: realizing that his cremation, his small funeral, his little words, and his unspoken were his ways; and, by giving him the dignity and respect they could with their love and understanding, they were both released as well. 

Enjoy!

#txf #The Scully Family In-Depth #Part IV #Luthor Lee Boggs Love and Letting Go #meta #xfiles #analysis #x-files #the x files #xf meta #Scully #S1 #Beyond the Sea #Boggs #Mulder #Captain Scully #Maggie Scully #mine #In-Depth

[sisterspooky1013]

The Best of You

Rated X | 6116 words | Read it here on AO3

This work was written for @monikafilefan for the @xfilesfanficexchange Jealousy Exchange.

“Thanks for coming by, Dana. I know you’re busy.”

“It’s no problem, Mom. I just wish you’d called me sooner.”

Scully slides a box marked “Japan” towards the front edge of the shelf in the basement, widening her stance on the step ladder as she eases it into her arms. The air is thick with dust and the damp funk of the subterranean.

“Oh, it’s fine. Tara didn’t say she had any specific time frame in mind. She just wanted some copies for her scrapbook,” Maggie says with a dismissive wave of her arm.

Scully carefully maneuvers down the ladder and then carries the box up the basement steps, her mother trailing behind her.

“Still, I don’t like the idea of you having to wait so long for something basic like this. You can always call Mulder, you know. His time is very…flexible,” she suggests.

She sets the box on the dining room table with a little grunt and peels off the yellowed tape that has held it closed since at least the seventies.

“I do call Fox sometimes, but he’s been busy with Anna and I didn’t want to bother him,” Maggie says as she reaches into the sagging box and pulls out stacks of thin photo prints held together with brittle rubber bands.

Scully pauses briefly, her heart leaping up into her throat. Maggie is sorting the contents of the box, oblivious to what she’s just inadvertently disclosed.

“Anna?” Scully repeats, and Maggie’s head snaps up, her eyes widening.

“Oh, Dana,” she says, laying a hand on her daughter’s forearm. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay, Mom,” Scully interrupts, busying herself with picking through the stacks on the table. “We’re not together. Mulder is free to see whomever he likes.”

Maggie sighs and waits, and eventually Scully lifts her head to regard her mother with wet eyes.

“It’s okay if it bothers you, honey,” Maggie says gently. “Even if it was your choice to part ways.”

Scully nods and sniffs, grabbing a stack of photos.

“Are these the ones from the market?” she asks, effectively changing the subject.

__

For the majority of the drive she manages not to think about what she’s doing, much less why. Familiar landmarks whip by in her periphery: the alpaca farm, a long-abandoned fireworks stand, the scorched foundation of a house that burned down three summers ago. When she turns the sharp corner onto Wallace Road, fresh tears flood her eyes and the pit in her chest tightens. She has no right, absolutely no right to feel the way she does, but she lost the ability to stand firmly on logic while ignoring her feelings years ago. Somewhere around the same time that she admitted to herself that she was in love with Mulder.

She sees the mailbox in the distance, the once buttery yellow paint now faded and chipped. When they’d first moved here, she kept missing their driveway and having to double back when she hit the fork in the road that told her she’d gone too far. Mulder teased her mercilessly, identifying half a dozen ways she should have known she was almost there: the fallen tree, the fence that’s stained a horrific shade of orange, the pothole in the middle of the road. One night after a difficult shift at the hospital, she walked through the door sobbing over the extra fifteen minutes she’d added to her commute by missing the driveway yet again. He’d been surprised and concerned by her uncharacteristic emotional response, and immediately drew her a bath and poured her a glass of wine. When she came downstairs an hour later wrapped in a fluffy bathrobe and smiling with embarrassment, she found him waiting in front of a crackling fire. He spent the evening rubbing her tired feet and shoulders, listening patiently as she retold stories of overbearing priests and distressed patients, and the nagging feeling that she wasn’t cut out to practice medicine full time. When she’d let it all out, when she was relaxed and pliant with a belly full of wine, he peeled the robe from her body and kissed a trail from her mouth to her mons, pushing her thighs open wide and bathing her with the warm slip of his tongue until she came in his mouth. In the morning, he snuck out of bed at sunrise and painted the mailbox yellow. She never missed the driveway again.

It’s been nearly two years since she moved out, and theoretically moved on. Over a year since the last of her things were loaded into a moving truck while Mulder sat morosely on the porch swing and watched. Nine months since he invited her to have coffee and told her he was getting help, that he was doing much better. He’d never explicitly asked her to come home, never directly asked for another chance, but she could feel it in his touch and see it in his eyes. She didn’t have to tell him that it was too late; he knew by how tightly she hugged him when she said goodbye, and how sincerely she told him to take care of himself. Since then it’s been only phone calls here and there, and one occasion when they had to meet at the bank to deposit a check made out to both of them. It’s not that she doesn’t want to see him, but that she doesn’t trust herself. She’s always been so weak when it comes to Mulder, and for once she is trying to be strong enough to stay away.

Strong enough to stay, strong enough to leave, strong enough to protect her heart from being broken yet again. It’s taken every kind of strength imaginable to navigate life with him, and now without him. Strength she didn’t know she had within her, and strength she wished she’d never been forced to summon.

The day she finally left she felt weaker than ever, worn nearly to dust by the constant rub of his rejection. She knows he never meant to hurt her, but the lack of intent certainly didn’t make it hurt any less. He started coming to bed later and later, and then not at all. He left his office only to use the bathroom and fetch food from the kitchen, leaving his dirty dishes in the sink and apparently never wondering how they made their way into the dishwasher. Too many dinners were eaten alone at the table; too many formerly special occasions passed unacknowledged. She tried everything from subtly attempting to summon him with new lingerie, to directly asking him to come to bed, to begging him with tear-streaked cheeks and barking sobs, ultimatums pouring from her lips like water from an open dam. He was unmoved, perhaps unmoveable. He was gone, no longer the man she knew and fell in love with. She found that she no longer had the strength to keep trying.

He’s already stepping out the front door when she reaches the end of the driveway, the distinct sound of a vehicle pitching over the gravel one they both know well. He’s smiling a kind of surprised smirk, concurrently confused but happy to see her, and she feels a wave of nausea grip her belly. What is she doing? She parks just in front of the steps and cuts the engine.

“Hi,” she says as she pushes her car door closed and slowly approaches the porch.

He’s wearing jeans and a white T-shirt, his cheeks clean shaven and his hair shaggy. He looks good.

“Hey,” he replies, stepping down the last two stairs to meet her. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

She sucks in a deep breath, then realizes she hadn’t thought to come up with an excuse for stopping by. In the end, she just shrugs, and he nods.

“How have you been?” she asks, both a platitude and a loaded question. He could answer, “Fine,” or he could answer, “Fucking someone else.”

“Good,” he says, his eyes flicking over her dark wash jeans and navy blouse. “You?”

She nods in agreement of being good, and he cocks his head slightly towards the house.

“You wanna come in for a bit?” he asks, and she can hear the hidden hopefulness in his voice.

She almost asks him if he’s alone, but there are no other cars here besides his and hers, and even on his worst day she doesn’t think he’d stoop to surprising her with an introduction to his new girlfriend. She says yes and follows him inside, hovering near the bottom of the stairs.

The house is clean, surprisingly, and there are new knick knacks and pieces of furniture filling the vacancies she left. It smells woody and musky, but not bad. It smells a little like his apartment back at Hegal Place: distinctly masculine and a little bit neglected. For the first time since they moved in, the house doesn’t feel like hers. It no longer feels like home.

“You want a beer?” he asks, his back to her as he pads barefoot into the kitchen.

She doesn’t answer, but watches him retrieve two lagers from the fridge and set them on the counter above the silverware drawer before he begins digging around in search of the bottle opener.

“Who’s Anna?” she asks, the words coming up like vomit and surprising them both.

He pauses briefly, then resumes pushing utensils from one side of the drawer to the other with increasing frustration. She crosses the room cautiously, stepping up beside him and reaching across his body to pull out the can opener. He grunts his thanks and takes it, popping the tops on both the beers without looking at her. She accepts one and leans against the counter, taking a frothy swig that burns her throat. Mulder heaves a sigh and turns to face her, pushing the drawer closed with his hip.

“How’s Maggie doing?” he asks, briefly dodging the question. Scully shrugs.

“I think you’d know better than I would. Sounds like you two talk often,” she replies with a slight edge of irritation.

Mulder heaves a sigh and huffs a mirthless laugh.

“You’re free to remove me from your own life, Scully, but can I at least keep your mom? I’ve known her nearly as long as I’ve known you,” he teases, though she can see the hurt in his eyes.

“I didn’t remove you from my life, Mulder,” she objects, and he scoffs.

“Didn’t you?”

“Who’s Anna?” she asks again, her voice raspy and small.

He looks at her long and hard, like he has so many times before. It always precedes some kind of ultimatum or directive. It’s always how he looks at her before he says something she doesn’t want to hear.

“You left, Scully. That was your choice. I never wanted this,” he says defensively.

“I never wanted this either,” she replies, her throat thick with tears.

Mulder drops his head, poking at a knot in the wooden floorboards with his toe.

“You could have come back any time,” he says quietly. “You could come back now. You choose not to.” He lifts his head, his expression more defeated than it was moments ago. “That’s your choice. Don’t try to tell me this isn’t what you want.”

A fat tear slides down her cheek and she detects the slightest wince on his face, but he doesn’t reach for her. She sniffs loudly, runs the back of her hand across her face to wipe away the tear, and then sucks down half her beer in a long gulp. The carbonation swells in her belly and she remembers how he used to marvel at her ability to belch, always so enamored with the unrefined side of her that she rarely allowed anyone to see.

He liked to run his hands over her stubbled legs, watch her meticulously shape her eyebrows in the bathroom mirror, kiss her unmade face on Sunday mornings and tell her that her freckles tasted like cinnamon. He used to find her endlessly fascinating, until he suddenly lost all interest. He used to know her better than anyone, better than even herself, but now they feel like practical strangers. She turns her head to the side and burps quietly behind her hand.

“I met her at the bank,” he says, looking at her shoulder instead of her face. “It’s not serious or anything.”

She nods, wondering what “not serious” means. Does it mean they’re just friends? Or maybe that it’s just sex? Maybe serious relationships are the ones where your very souls are stitched together, where you lose the ability to discern where one of you ends and the other begins. Maybe “not serious” means sleeping in late and going to the farmer’s market, then making love after lunch and reading together on the couch until dinner. Maybe “not serious” is everything she always wanted but could never pin down. Not with him, anyway.

“How old is she?” Scully asks, and he meets her eye with a questioning look. She isn’t sure why she asked.

“Is this why you came over?” he asks in reply, setting his beer on the counter and crossing his arms over his chest. “You don’t want to be with me, but you don’t want me to be with anyone else either?”

His eyes are bright and the volume of his voice is slowly increasing. She feels the blood rushing through her veins, her heart thrumming. It’s been so long since he bothered to argue with her, since he cared enough to fight. She sets her beer down and steps forward, craning her neck up to look at him.

“All I ever wanted was to be with you, Mulder,” she spits back, her own voice dropping disastrously low. “I ruined my fucking life to be with you, and you left me. Again, and again, and again, you left.”

Angry tears fall freely, but her voice is steady. His jaw twitches and she sees him swallowing back things he knows he shouldn’t say. Things he can’t take back.

“I know I’m far from perfect,” he says, his tone much more measured. “I’ve made mistakes, many of them. But I never gave up on you. I never gave up on us.”

His words hit her with the force of a slap, and she recoils. One step back, then two, then several. She turns and strides towards the door, prepared to leave. This was a mistake. She should never have come here.

I never gave up on us.

She turns on her heel and marches back towards him, stopping just out of arm's reach. She’s so angry she’s afraid she may actually hit him. It wouldn’t be the first time.

“Maybe I’m the one who walked out the door, Mulder,” she says levelly, fighting for control. “But you’d given up long before that. You gave up on us years ago.”

He drops his head briefly, then looks at her with a wounded expression that softens her anger.

“That’s not fair, Scully,” he says, shaking his head. “I wasn’t well, mentally. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“I know that,” she whispers through a constricted throat. “I know it wasn’t your fault, Mulder. But you wouldn’t get help. Not even if it meant losing me.”

“I didn’t know—” he begins, and her anger comes charging back with breakneck speed.

“Yes you did!” she shouts, and he visibly startles. “You knew, Mulder. I told you. Hundreds of times, hundreds of ways. I tried so hard to make you understand.”

She’s sobbing in earnest at this point, her cheeks wet and her face contorted. She can feel moisture in her nostrils, and she looks around for a box of Kleenex.

“I didn’t think—” he starts again, but stops and grimaces a little.

She meets his eye, sees what is behind them. The truth that isn’t worth saying aloud, because it won’t help.

“You didn’t think I’d actually leave,” she finishes for him, and he looks away.

She turns from him, walking down the hall to the bathroom to blow her nose. She avoids her reflection, haphazardly tearing squares of toilet paper off the roll and noting that he still uses her brand, the one he always complained wasn’t worth the extra money. So many years, and so many small ways she improved his quality of life. Got him to eat more vegetables and get more sleep. Wear sunscreen and use fabric softener. Talk about his feelings instead of running until he can’t breathe and love someone instead of pushing them away to protect his own heart. It was all worth it, he was worth it, every second of heartache and pain. That’s what she used to think, anyway.

On the counter near the sink, she spots a small black circle and picks it up. It’s an elastic hair tie with one blonde strand looped tightly around it. The air evaporates from her lungs and it feels like someone socked her in the gut. It hurts. It’s embarrassing. It’s so fucking unfair. She stalks back down the hall, rage rising in her throat.

He sees her coming, and his face flashes on something between fear and confusion. She stops short of him, a million thoughts careening through her mind but none finding their way to her mouth. How he took her for granted from the beginning. How he consoled her with sweetness and grand gestures between stints of ditching her and risking both their lives and careers. How even after she gave up everything that mattered to her, including her own child, he continued to insist that she would be better off without him. By then, he was all that she had left.

“I hate you,” she says, small and bitter.

His eyes widen and his mouth drops open. She’s only ever said that to him once before, on a night a bit like this one where she allowed herself to take inventory of all that was lost. Where she was so bereft and detached from anything resembling normalcy that she just wanted to feel something. Where he was so far from her that she needed to pull him back, and anger was the only bait he would take.

He closes his mouth, sucks his bottom lip between his teeth, and considers her. She wants to run to him, to ask him to hold her, to beg for lazy mornings and farmers markets and afternoon lovemaking. She wants to punch him and scream and break every single item in this house that tells the story of a life that has moved on without her. She wants to make him understand how much it hurts to see that he did have the ability to get better, but that she wasn’t worth the effort. For all the years he was willing to die for her, living was too much to ask for.

“Why?” he asks, standing up a bit straighter as though preparing for battle. “Tell me why you hate me, Scully.”

Because I threw my entire life away for you, and you weren’t willing to fight for me.

Because I loved you at your worst, but this woman is getting the best version of you.

Because watching you fade away in front of me was worse than burying you.

Because I never stopped loving you for a single second, and it took every scrap of courage I had to walk away.

Because I’m so afraid of losing you like that again, I can’t bring myself to give us another chance.

Because I know I will never stop loving you. I will never truly let you go, and that makes it feel like my life is over.

She covers her face with her hands, her shoulders shaking with her sobs. She wants to disappear. From this house, from this life, from this planet.

She feels two strong hands rest gently on her shoulders, the weight of them increasing steadily as he waits to see if she’ll push him away. She should push him away, but instead she wraps her arms around his neck and lets him pull her close, his hands on her waist lifting her slightly off the floor. She presses her face into the side of his neck, and the familiar smell of his aftershave and the scrape of his shorn skin against her cheeks is the home she’d expected to find when she walked through the door. It was never the house; it was him. It’s always been him. She’s afraid it always will be.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers, and he shushes her, rocking gently back and forth.

“I’m the one who should be sorry, Scully,” he says quietly, his breath warming the tip of her ear. “I am sorry, every day. It’s true that I didn’t think you’d really leave, not after everything. But even if I had, I don’t think it would have made a difference. It wasn’t about you, or anything you did or didn’t do. I had to be ready to get help, and I wasn’t there yet. I loved you — I love you — so much. You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. Knowing that I fucked that up is probably my biggest regret in life, and I think we both know there’s quite a bit of competition for that title.”

She manages a weak, wet laugh at his joke, sniffing and pulling away from him slightly to wipe her cheeks. He sets her down, but maintains his hold on her waist so she can’t move away from him. She dabs at her eyes and glances up, finding him looking down at her with a soft, pained expression.

“I’m okay, Mulder,” she reassures him. “I’m sure I don’t look it, but I’m fine.”

“You look beautiful,” he says resolutely. “You’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever known.”

A memory comes crashing to the forefront of her mind, called forth by his hands on her waist and the melancholy in his eyes. A stolen weekend in Ocean City, their first non-work trip as a couple, standing like this on the shore with the sun setting in the hills behind them. Her hair kept whipping across her eyes and she laughed with embarrassment as the elements ruined what would have otherwise been a sweet, romantic moment. Mulder was looking at her just like he is now, like his heart was breaking.

“What?” she’d asked, pushing her hair behind her ears before the wind picked it up again and slashed it across her mouth.

He shook his head slightly in an attempt to dismiss her, and self-consciousness told her that something was wrong, that this wasn’t working out the way he’d hoped. That she wasn’t what he’d hoped.

She’d started to pull away, feeling her armor go up swiftly at the first sign of rejection, and he tightened his grip on her waist. She looked up at him, bronzed and beautiful in the light of the setting sun, as he screwed up his mouth in contemplation and then smiled shyly.

“You’re so perfect,” he said with awe. “I keep waiting for the moment you realize you’re way out of my league and kick me to the curb.”

She chuffed a surprised laugh and kissed him, their mouths gritty with sand and her windswept hair.

“I’m not going anywhere, Mulder. Relax.”

She wonders now if she was lying when she said that so many years ago. She’d certainly meant it at the time. And she did stay: she stayed and stayed and stayed. She waited for him: he always came back to her. Until he didn’t.

It’s she who pushes up on to the tips of her toes and tugs on his neck, but it’s he who presses his mouth to hers. She can remember with painful acuity the last time she kissed him, his mouth soft and non reciprocating. So many nights she’s tried to recall the last time he kissed her back, but the memory didn’t feel important enough at the time to retain, it seems. Now he is kissing her with all the passion she’s begged her body to forget, his eager lips coaxing hers apart and his tongue hot and wet against her teeth. He stoops and scoops her up, her legs around his waist and her hands on his jaw, and the taste of his kiss like a salve on her broken heart.

She didn’t register movement, but suddenly he is lowering her onto the couch and climbing over her, his mouth on her neck and his pelvis cradled between her thighs. The seam of his jeans presses against hers, and she feels that he’s hard. The realization makes her throat constrict anew, tears threatening her eyes. He wants her. Something she once took for granted and then mourned the loss of for years. She’d been shocked and disappointed to discover how tightly his wanting her was tied to her own self esteem, but it was, it is. And his arousal, his wanting, ignites in her something that she’d thought died along with their relationship.

She reaches for him, palming him over his jeans, and feels herself swell. He groans, flexing his hips in encouragement, and her fingers go to the button on his fly. For a split second, she remembers that he is not available, that he belongs to someone else, but she pushes the thought away. He is hers, has been hers since she walked into his office twenty plus years ago, will be hers until they take their last breaths, even if they wish it weren’t that way. She undoes the button, pushes the zipper down, and slides her hand under the cotton of his boxers.

“Fuck, Scully,” he mumbles, kissing her mouth sloppily.

She feels a slick of precum bead at the tip and she smears it over the head of his cock. He’s impressively stiff, the hard edges of the mushroom tip and corded veins in his shaft bulging and firm. She wants to see him, to taste him, to feel him. She wants him to want her, to take her, to make her whole. She needs this.

Urgent hands push and pull and tug, divesting them each of their shirts, their pants, her bra and panties flying over the back of the couch and his boxers falling to the floor. She kneels at his feet, grabbing the base of him and swallowing him whole as he cradles her head between his broad palms. She sucks him greedily, hungrily, wanting to make him come but also not wanting this to be over. Finally he pushes her away, saying “Please, I want to feel you.”

She climbs into his lap, draping her naked body over his and reveling in the hot press of his bare skin. She wriggles and arches, guiding him to her entrance without the use of hands, and sinks down onto him with a shuddering sigh.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he says proudly, one hand on her breast and the other on her hip, their open mouths meeting and parting as she rises and falls.

“You feel so good,” she whimpers, trying not to cry.

She doesn’t want this to be sad, if it’s to be the last time. She wants this to be a good memory that she can hold on to forever, after she lets go of the last remaining thread of hope that they can come back to each other again.

They slow, trading a frenzied fuck for a leisurely grind, one where they can kiss and touch and revel. Their bodies reacquaint themselves with one another, remembering just how and just where to touch, recalling how much pleasure they once sought and found together.

“I wanna come,” she confesses, and his thumb finds her clit.

She rocks against him, kisses him deeply, loves him so fully it hurts. She peaks and plummets, overcome by racking waves of bliss. He tells her how good she feels, how beautiful she is, how much he loves her. She feels the hot spurt of his orgasm and the tears come rushing back full force, wetting her cheeks and his as they kiss and kiss and kiss.

Weak-kneed and sated, he slowly turns and lowers them to lie down, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch to cover their nakedness. She rests her cheek on his chest and feels him slip out, then the wet rush of their combined fluids, but doesn’t move. He runs his hands over her back as the silence creeps from comfortable to tense, and she wonders whether he’s thinking about her. Anna.

“I get so lonely, Scully,” he says suddenly, startling her. “That’s all it is with Anna, just someone to spend time with.”

“But you’re more than just friends,” she counters, grateful that she can’t see his face.

“Supposed to be, yes,” he says tentatively.

“Supposed to be?” she repeats in a request for clarification.

“I don’t want to go into too much detail,” he offers, and she cringes at the idea of what the unabridged version might be. “But let’s just say that I was fairly confident that ED had finally found me before today.”

She can’t suppress the smile that stretches across her mouth, but it quickly falls.

“You deserve to have someone, Mulder. You deserve to be happy,” she says, hating the words as they leave her mouth but knowing that they are true.

“I don’t want anyone else,” he replies. “I won’t be happy with anyone else. I’m not saying that to guilt trip you or try to convince you to come back; I understand why the risk feels too great. It’s just a fact: it’s you, or it’s nobody.”

She heaves a sigh and lifts her head, resting her chin on his chest and looking up at him. Crow’s feet are beginning to wrinkle the corners of his eyes and his persistent lack of sunscreen use is catching up to him, but he is still so much that tenacious young man who stole her heart and changed her life. She smiles weakly at him, and he lifts his arm to push her hair behind her ear.

“What do you want, Scully?” he asks gently, and she can see that he is both afraid of and desperately wants the answer.

“I don’t think that what I want is reasonable,” she says sadly.

“Tell me,” he encourages her.

“I don’t think I can just…go back to how it was,” she says tightly, and he nods in understanding. “But I know that I can’t imagine myself with anyone else. And I know that the idea of you with someone else —”

She cringes and he shakes his head, indicating that she shouldn’t continue.

“So, not together, but not seeing other people?” he asks, and she wrinkles her nose.

“That sounds really unreasonable.”

“Unconventional, yes,” he says with a nod. “But we’ve never really stuck too closely to convention, have we, G-Woman?”

She smiles broadly, and he returns it. For a fleeting moment, it feels like nothing changed.

“So…not together. Not seeing other people. Seeing each other?” she asks, gauging his reaction.

“I’d like to. But whatever you’re comfortable with is fine. I’ll take what I can get.”

“I’d like to see you,” she says hopefully, and he gives her a squeeze. “What about Anna?” she asks, and his mouth sinks into a frown.

“I’ll break things off with her. I don’t think she’ll be too surprised. I’ve been waiting for her to ask why I seem a bit—detached,” he says, struggling for words.

“Why are you? Detached?”

He sighs and trails his finger over the shell of her ear contemplatively.

“She’s a really nice person, but she has this one fatal flaw that I’ve found myself unable to look past,” he says somberly.

“She doesn’t believe in the existence of extraterrestrials?” she quips, and he huffs a little laugh through his nose.

“She’s not you,” he says fondly, meeting her eye.

She smiles at him, and they sit like that for a beat, absorbing this new plan for their next chapter.

“If you do decide at any point that you want to give it another shot, just let me know,” he says lightly, though she knows it’s anything but a lighthearted statement.

“What if I’m never ready?” she asks, feeling guilty and afraid.

He smiles at her affectionately, massaging her shoulder with one hand.

“Back in our prime, I was prepared to wait forever for you,” he says gently. “I’m glad I didn’t have to, but I would have. The sentiment still stands.”

She makes a face.

“I don’t want that for you, Mulder,” she objects.

“Well, let me clarify something,” he interjects. “This ‘not together but seeing each other’ thing, does it involve sex?”

She raises her eyebrows and then says, “I sure as hell hope so.”

“Well, then I can confidently say, Scully, that you don’t need to worry about me. I don’t need a label on it. I just need you.”

She bites her lip and nods.

“Okay.”

“Okay?” he repeats, and she nods again. “Will you stay the night?” he asks cautiously, his eyes narrowing in a preemptive wince as he anticipates her declination.

“I’d like that,” she says softly, and the breadth of his smile is one she hasn’t seen on his face in years.

_

She wakes with a start to the snap of the screen door slamming closed and finds herself alone in the bedroom, the amber light of sunrise dappled across the comforter. She feels a wave of anxiety and fear, waking up alone in this bed. Muscle memory tells her to get up, get dressed, and start the coffee. The memories stored in her heart tell her that she will drink it alone, listening to the clack of Mulder’s keyboard from behind his office door.

When she exits the bedroom, the smell of freshly brewed coffee is wafting up from the kitchen, and she feels an unexpected swell of joy. She finds him at the table, two steaming mugs and an open newspaper sitting before him.

“Hi,” he says brightly, standing to greet her with a kiss and a long, tight hug. “How’d you sleep?”

“Really well, actually, though I’ll admit it was a bit strange waking up here,” she admits, taking the seat beside him.

He nods in acceptance of this, then pushes one of the mugs across the table top towards her.

“I hope I still remember how you take it,” he says shyly, and she offers him a warm smile.

“I can’t stay long,” she says, taking an experimental sip. “I have to get to work.”

She doesn’t miss the disappointment on his face, but he quickly hides it behind his coffee mug. His fingernails are caked with yellow, and she briefly wonders how she hadn’t noticed it the night before.

They chat and drink their coffee, and there are long goodbyes at the door, then at the bottom of the steps to the porch, and again beside the open door of her car. She promises to come back soon, and she sees the way he is concurrently hopeful and guarded, once bitten twice shy.

“Have a good day at work, honey,” he whispers in her ear before he pulls away, and it feels so familiar and so foreign at the same time, this easy way of being together.

She watches him in the rearview mirror as her car jumps and lurches over the potholes in the driveway, extending her arm out the window to return his wave before he disappears from sight. At the end of the driveway she sees the mailbox, shining with a fresh coat of buttery yellow paint. She sits there, the car unmoving, trying to talk herself out of running again. The risk feels so big, but so does the potential reward.

Her phone dings and she fishes it out of her purse, surprised to see a new text message from him.

I wanted to make sure you can always find your way home.

The pit rises in her chest, constricting her throat and squeezing at her tear ducts. She pulls onto Wallace Road, smiling as she passes familiar landmarks. The scorched foundation of a house that burned down three summers ago, an abandoned fireworks stand, the alpaca farm. She remembers summer nights with the windows down, singing along to the radio with a week's worth of groceries in the bed of the truck. She remembers the thrill of a life that stayed put. And it’s still there, waiting for her, whenever she’s ready to return to it.

Tagging @today-in-fic

#the x files #txf #dana scully #x files fanfic #fox mulder #x files #xf fanfic #the x-files #xfiles

[lovetransaction]

hey hi maggie, happy dff! we know john hooked up with women when he was on the road. how do you think dean felt about john stumbling back in smelling of cheap perfume and pussy? did john do it on purpose to keep dean on his toes/put him in his place? did he not think about dean at all? bonus: do they ever go out and find a girl they can hook up with *together*?

Late on this but here we goooooo <3

I wouldn't think that John would take Dean into consideration at ALL when he hooked up with women; I don't think he'd even ever plan to sleep with women. Not consciously, though clearly there'd be a physical attraction that he'd act on. Personally I think it's HIGHLY unlikely that he'd knock up some random nurse -- I don't see John having much interest in being with any normie women and endangering them, once he was in the Hunter life he was ALL in (plus it's fucking stupid to think that he wouldn't know how to keep it wrapped after serving in Vietnam and being dumb with grief over Mary) -- but aaaanyhow. On a non-shark-jumping basis, John would only sleep with fellow Hunters or those in the know, after meeting them and feeling that chemistry. What business is that of Dean's? John doesn't micromanage Dean's fuckdates, after all.

Dean otoh would be horrendously muddled up over this. First of all, his father is married to his mother, the end, forever more. That's his kneejerk reaction but logically he understands his dad might have needs, and also Dad shouldn't be questioned on his personal time because he has zero personal life as it is. By the time Dean's old enough to understand the smell of drugstore perfume and pussy, he's seen John's priorities shift away from raising the boys and almost fully into obsession to hunt down the YED. Dad never has fun anymore and he's stressed all the time (so far as Dean can tell) so he deserves some slap 'n tickle.

He knows that John has no real feelings for any of his hookups, not the way he loves Dean, so that's not an issue.

All of Dean's upset is because he actually does, secretly in his heart of hearts, think that if Dad's THAT obsessed with getting vengeance on Mom's behalf, if he loves her THAT much that everything else falls by the wayside ... he shouldn't be fucking any other women. Period. Because if he can make exceptions for other women, then the mission isn't as all-consuming as John makes it out to be. If he fucks anything other than the memory of his dead wife then the mission doesn't necessitate him leaving his sons for weeks on end and Dad's lying to them. The whole thing erodes under that lens so Dean won't allow that lens.

And they absolutely do find women who they can fuck each other through. In front of other people John would be more self-conscious about nailing his sonwife so it would be women his age and Dean ofc is fine with that because Dean is fine with everything that John mandates especially in this arena. They're both charming as fuck when they want to be (because I mean they look like JDM and Jackles lbr!!! okay back to character and not pure lizard brain) but once they're actually doing the deed, they're pretty intense and make a lot of eye contact with each other though they don't touch each other during it. The women don't leave unsatisfied, exactly, or even feeling objectified, but they definitely are made to feel that once the sex is over, they need to hit the bricks because these two want to be alone together. Totally normal hookup!

#dadfucker friday #asktransaction #dean winchester #john winchester #wincest

[benevolentdinosaur]

So there are a few inconsistencies between season 1 and season 2 that have been bugging me but I think I finally figured out logical in universe solutions to them all.

Why do Maggie and Nina look suspiciously like Sister Teresa and Sister Mary from the satanic nun cult? Well it's simple- they ARE the same people! Let me explain: Sister Mary's paintball business got shut down after the whole gun incident that Crowley caused. After this she changed her name and personality and opened a coffee shop on Soho. As for "Sister Teresa" Maggie was actually her real identity all along and she only joined the cult as a hobby. Now you may remember her being killed by Hastur in season 1 episode 1 but she was actually fine and just playing dead for comedic effect. When Nina shows up 11 years later Maggie remembers her and hopes they can bond over their old cult days but Nina/Mary doesn't recognise her at all.

Does that mean that Shax and Madame Tracy are the same person? No, of course not. That would be ridiculous. Shax used to have a different appearance but saw Madame Tracy one time and decided to steal her look. Demons do that kind of thing sometimes

Why does God narrate the first season but not the second? Well that's simple- God is dead. They'll go into this more in season 3

Why is Crowley's hair a much brighter red season 2? Off-screen he fell into a large barrel of cranberries that stained his hair permanently! Oh well!

Hope this helped 🙏

Let me know if I missed anything and I'll find an explanation

#good omens #gomens #good omens s2 #crack theory #Just in case it wasn't obvious I'm joking #not serious