Andrew Lincoln on ‘The One Show’.

Lara Croft (2001)

“I wish we could get back the time that was stolen from us.”

I couldn’t help myself. A Knight’s Tale scene modelled on characters from Fallout 4, and my fic Death in a Duster. (Original gifs here.)

Deacon as Chaucer; smooth, charismatic, tongue gets him into trouble. Fahrenheit as Wat; brawler, likes a bet, loves punching Chaucer. Hancock as Roland; tries to be level-headed, can’t resist a challenge. MacCready as Kate; quiet, deadly, smarter than all of them.

Pen as Will/Ulrich, because she came from a different place, worked her way up, and I find the English line hilariously apt.

A Knight’s Tale (2001)

I’m sick as a dog with flu, so writing is beyond me. 

Pen was whining about all the walking around the Commonwealth, and I wondered what would happen if she showed up with a barely tamed radstag (thanks, Dragon Age: Inq). Hancock was impressed, Fahrenheit just wanted to eat it. 

Hipster Hancock because modern AUs of Fallout need to exist.

Fallout Modern AUs

Someone discuss modern AUs for Fallout with me, because they’re my favourite thing to write and I can’t get my head around them for Fallout.

I can’t just ignore the whole ghoul/synth/BoSPoS thing, but I can kinda ignore the end of the world thing? So it’s just the world (as we know it~), in our timeline of 2016, but ghouls are a thing (fairly rare chemical mutation, a very groovy mutation), synths are... idk, commonplace genetic engineering, and the brotherhood knock on your door on Sundays and ask if you’ve heard about their lord and saviour Arthur “to the max” Maxson?

I just want Hancock watching Sky Sports with his feet up, Piper writing her latest article in Starbucks, and Curie taking on every science module she can in every class in every college ever (also Curie in dorms because social studies and just panicking).

I want my typical tropes gdi, give me coffee shop meet-cutes and fake dating stories with texting and netflix and someone please show Deacon Snapchat.

I just went to see Skyrim in Concert at the London Palladium (absolutely fantastic, kudos to the Winterhold Philharmonic and Choir), and I’m listening to this gorgeous music, drinking lovely wine, but they have this giant screen showing videos and stills from Skyrim’s gameplay, and all I can think is…

Needs more mods.

Thomas Harris

For @themisanthropiclycanthrope, who requested Porthathos, because we’re trash and very happy in our rarepair pit <3

Very late, quite smutty, and a bit off-prompt, so it’s under the jump.

8.  “Come on, dress up in it, for me.”

Porthos brought a box into the living room, frown on his brow as he dug through it, strips of multicoloured fabric tumbling onto the floor. Athos caught one on the end of his shoe, and hummed a question as he sipped his wine.

"D'Artagnan wants one, he's dressin' as Jack Skellington or somethin'... This one?"

Athos watched Porthos lift the bow tie to his neck and look at himself in the mirror, shirt still unbuttoned after his announcement to have a quick shower.

"I'm not sure," Athos murmured, gaze trailing over the bright red bracers and the tailored trousers - he knew those had been a good idea, worth the sexual favours he had promised just to get Porthos into the tailors. "Try it without the shirt."

Porthos' eyes snapped to his in the mirror, surprise lifting a brow. "Yeah?"

Athos tilted his head, settling back into his chair with a sly smile. "You said you needed a costume for this evening."

"What, just the bow tie?" Porthos laughed, thoughtfully turning the strip of fabric between his fingers, his own gaze slipping along Athos’ legs.

"We can add the rest later," Athos said with a shrug, "but for now... Off."

There was a very brief pause, an internal debate, a single heartbeat and one slow inhale, and then Porthos did as he was told.

Athos tried not to show how pleasantly surprised he was.

"You must've had a good day, la Fère," Porthos murmured, grin ever so bright in the relative low light of the room. "Or was it lunch, 'cause I don't think they're gonna let us back in to that coffee place after we were stuck in the toilet all that time--"

Porthos cut himself off when Athos got up from his chair, Porthos' shirt already a puddle on the ground, but when he went to knot the bow tie, Athos stopped him.

"Allow me."

Planet Earth 2

David Attenborough is back in my life and it is GOOD.

For @inkquery​ who wanted half-naked rockstar Deacon up to his usual mischief in a Hallowe’en-y Goodneighbor. Featuring Pen (my F!SS from Death in a Duster), Hancock, and Fahrenheit.

Three disguises to hand: half-naked rockstar, slick vampire, and one damn good ghoul mask.

He had been making the rounds all evening, picking up drinks on someone else’s tab, stealing snacks from the few traders looking to make some caps on one of Goodneighbor’s busiest nights, and even coming first and second place in the costume competition.

There were a couple of pumpkins around, but most of the carved fruit tended to be of the melon variety – and most of those were being used as target practice in the next street.

Overall, it was a good time, not a single person had recognised him, although he had had to swap masks with a very lovely young lady when a blonde attached to the mayor’s waist sent a narrow-eyed look his way.

Here, amidst the noise and the drinks and the laughter, he was invisible. He was basically the best spy in the world, he was brilliant, he was fantastic, he was invincible—

“Deacon?”

Now, Deacon had often heard his name sound like a threat, as if his very existence was an affront to some people, but then most of those people were Desdemona and she preferred a small pistol in a calf holster.

The memory of a minigun shoved against his spine made him wince.

“Fahrenheit,” he called cheerily, turning on one foot to see a scowl the size of the Glowing Sea. “Lovely to see you!”

“It’s not,” she replied flatly, chewing on a cocktail stick with some glow-in-the-dark dye in her orange hair. “Although, I’ve been meaning to have a word.”

“Huh,” Deacon replied very eloquently, and made a mental note to run for the nearest exit. “Are they of the four-letter variety?”