#Rad Writes

[radskull-69]

Mammon x reader stuff because I love him-

this man is TOXIC, ain’t gonna sugar coat it sry y’all.

you probably work for him or met him at one of his shows, happening to catch his eye

if your a imp or a hellhound he’d definitely keep it under wraps, weather it be you two boning or in a relationship. He cares for his image a lot.

if you’re a succubus he’d make it seem like it’s nothing but a one time thing, but behind close doors would keep making you lay him visits to ‘satisfy him’

definitely very cold and would probably not to after care :(

this man is a MAN CHILD, would definitely whine and pout when you don’t give him what he wants. Such a brat tbh

will sound mean while in his pov he sounds romantic, like you’re about to go on a date and he tosses you a matching dress to match his jester attire. Not even looking at you as he tosses it over his shoulder with a “put dis’ one on yeah? Make ya look like a good cunt.”

cat behaviour, 100%. Would be rude and cold but after a while of not getting enough or no attention from you he’ll throw you on his lap or lay himself on you (prepare to get crushed)

also he totally purrs, it’s a fact. Give him scratches.

since he has four arms he’s very grabby, probably always has one hand grabbing, patting or pinching you.

baby talks you in a sign of affection like he did to fizzie.

If he likes you enough he would buy you something expensive but would secretly benefit him as well, like a cute outfit that he just wanted to see you in.

if Ozzie ever found out about you two he’d never hear the end of it, so you two are a secret.

does get angrily easily and never admits when he’s the wrong one, crossing his arms and growling. But maybe after a day or two he’ll begrudgingly say sorry and get you a present. Maybe mc Donald’s.

if the fans love you both and ship you like they did with Ozzie an fizzarolly he’ll use it to his advantage and milk the SHIT out of it. Making cute vlogs and shitty love songs with his guitar to play, steeling off of Taylor swift probably.

[radical-sky]

Shelter, part 1

don't you ever leave me alone, my war is over, be my shelter from the storm

One year post-Fallout, Ilsa joins the IMF, partnering with Ethan and his team. After their first mission goes catastrophically wrong, Ethan sacrifices himself in a desperate bid to save Ilsa's life. Believing he failed and she's dead, Ethan suffers the consequences of the unsuccessful mission. Five months later, the team - and Ilsa, get him out.

pairing: Ilsa/Ethan

wordcount: 4.1k

warnings: 18+ minors DNI, violence, graphic depictions/descriptions of torture and the aftermath, pregnancy, very minor mention of a suicide attempt.

AO3 (user restricted) here

ENDLESS thank you to the truly amazing @agentfaust for the most thorough, in depth, and detailed beta anyone has ever given me. You are phenomenal babe!!

Ilsa can’t remember the last time she was tempted to fidget, all nervous ticks trained out of her before she was even with MI6. The old habits have never been as tempting as they are now, standing in a cold and damp third-world prison waiting for Ethan to be brought out to her.

Well, not just her. The White Widow stands next to her, her brother not far away. He scowls at Ilsa, not happy to be here and not happy to risk his and his sister’s lives on a job for her. It’s nothing sanctioned (if any members of your team are caught or killed, the secretary will disavow any knowledge of your actions) but the moment Benji had finally, finally found Ethan the team had gotten things moving as quickly as possible. Luther and Benji worked their computers nearly 24 hours a day, and Ilsa called favors and made connections in country wherever she could. Even Brandt was helping, pulling strings and doing as much as he could legally behind the scenes while staying their inside man at the IMF.  

Luther or Benji (it doesn’t matter now because they both had been trying their damnedest to get it done) had hacked into the security system in the prison; cameras in every cell, interrogation room, the hallways. Not that any of them needed to see what they were doing to Ethan (in the two weeks since she first saw him on the grainy camera feed it’s all she sees when she closes her eyes, doesn’t need audio to hear his screams and the sounds they rip from his throat, or backdated footage to catalog what tool made each scar or bleeding wound on his body. Those pictures will be seared in her brain for all eternity. She wants and yearns and rages at the sacrifice he made for her, for them, and falls asleep with a screen playing live footage from his cell in her lap, showing him pressed back into the corner of the tiny cage, curled up protectively, shivering or trembling she can’t tell. Wishing she could tell him somehow I’m coming. I will get you out. I haven’t forgotten about you. you’re not disavowed to me. I’m sorry. I’m so terribly sorry Ethan). 

They don’t have to watch the footage for long to decide that any escape that depends on Ethan getting himself out won’t happen. Without government backing and even with Brandt’s help they don’t have the resources or the manpower to storm the prison and break him out. That left one option, and it wasn’t one that any of them liked. The White Widow hadn’t been the least bit interested in taking a call from Ilsa until she’d said John Lark needs your help. 

The team had debated on how to refer to Ethan, desperately wanting to keep his identity as an American agent secret. They knew he hadn’t revealed it, the terrorists would have auctioned him off or killed him if he had. The White Widow knew him as John Lark, and that was all it took. From there Alanna was easily bargained into breaking him out. To Ilsa’s trained eye she could tell Ethan intrigued the other woman. It wasn’t a jealous realization, wasn’t even a shock. It’s Ethan - people are drawn to him, he’s magnetic without even trying or meaning to be. Without even being in the room he can convince people to take jobs that are completely against what they usually do. Ilsa can speak to it herself, she knew she was burning a bridge when she saved him the first time, but despite her past, she couldn’t watch Vinter kill him in the most painful way possible. She’s never been in a relationship like the one with Ethan, drawn in and ready to sacrifice the mission for someone else. Ilsa had been ready to be out of the game for a long time, before Kashmir had believed that it would never - could never - happen. Ethan changed that. Changed her reasons for wanting out. She didn’t plan on falling in love when she tossed him the key in London.

Breaking him out had been the original plan, but when Zola studied the camera footage, guard patterns, and security he decided it would cost too many men. A second plan was formed, and the White Widow had brokered a trade as diplomatically as she always had; the prisoner who was arrested after a motorcycle accident on terrorism charges 5 months ago traded for cash and enough weapons for a small personal army. Ilsa knows she should be as worried about what the weapons will be used for as the rest of the team, but even though she is part of them now, she operated differently for so long that she’s almost forgotten what it’s like to have those concerns. It’s Ethan, surely any price is worth his freedom? (Deep down Ilsa knows Ethan would disagree, loudly, with his dying breath, that his own life is not worth a single innocent life.) Benji and Luther had come up with a secondary mission, running alongside the retrieval to guarantee there would be no innocent lives lost because of the weapons traded for him. It took another week for Alanna to acquire the weapons, leaving ample time for the team to gather the cash for Ethan and the separate cash for Alanna, one-half of the price for her involvement in the exchange. Alanna, just like the terrorists, had also required a two part payment, unable to pass up an opportunity when it presented itself to her. Ilsa doesn’t worry about the other half of Alanna’s fee, it's a problem for later. After Ethan is back and healed and whole again. She hopes he won’t be too furious with her for agreeing to it on his behalf. 

So, now here she is. Not fidgeting. Not twisting her ankle or flexing her calf muscles and imaging she can feel the rods and pins holding her leg together, or the scar where her tibia bone punched through the skin of her calf, not twisting her arm and feeling knitted scars where the bones ground together excruciatingly. 

And above all else she’s not resting her hand on the barely there bump on her stomach, the bump invisible and hidden beneath a loose blouse and trench coat. Invisible to everyone who doesn’t know her and Ethan’s secret. 

———

The first mission wasn’t supposed to be like this. 

It was supposed to be easy and wonderful and the start of the greatest partnership of his life. 

So of course, like everything else in his life, it went to shit in 5 minutes. 

He and Ilsa had never exactly named The Thing between them, except that it was theirs. He didn’t tell Benji and Luther (although greatly suspected Luther knew and Benji was suspicious), and Ilsa being a free agent didn’t have anyone to tell. They were each other's greatest secret, greatest weakness, greatest compromise. Because they did compromise each other. There was no question after they’d saved each other so many times, sacrificing the mission for them. The Thing started simply. After handing Lane off to MI6 they spent a week in London exploring each other's bodies carefully around broken ribs and bruised necks (and how he had enjoyed adding his marks to her neck and having her hands on his chest) telling stories and sharing the private, secret parts of themselves no one else knew - then a night Cape Town, a weekend in Moscow, six hours in Brussels, two days in Paris, traveling 8 hours to spend half that time in her hotel room in Athens. Whenever they could and their schedules overlapped enough, or if they even happened to be in the same time zone, they were together. 

After Julia, he didn’t think he’d ever feel this way about another woman. 

Any chance he could he’d pull her into his missions. Anything to have her by his side. Ilsa was always available and never said no. She was traveling a lot, but he didn’t think she was taking any other jobs as a free agent, waiting for him to call her and almost always close by. Ethan had wondered many times if she declined jobs and traveled to follow him, just close enough it was convenient. When Brandt told him Sloane had given him the approval to extend the offer of a permanent position with the IMF - with Ethan’s team - to Ilsa he was perhaps the happiest he’d ever been. The two of them together - partners - properly, permanently. 

He never thought he’d be considering marriage again either.

So it really shouldn’t have come as a surprise when it fell apart. The plan failed. His backup scenarios ran out. There were no more moves, no more chess pieces. So when he wrecked and went down, Ilsa dead in his earpiece, Benji too late to save her, a part of him, all hope, died with her. When he saw his pursuers approaching he was relieved, he’d never been so ready or willing to meet death than in that moment. To go where Ilsa would be waiting for him. He was already halfway there, a piece of rebar in his chest, internal injuries too numerous to catalog, his leg didn’t feel right, arm wouldn’t lift. Ethan closed his eyes, ready for the bullet that would end his life. 

He certainly hadn’t expected them to take him alive, put him in the hospital, and get him just healthy enough that he’d survive the torture, and survive he did, but not as Ethan Hunt. As something else, a shell of a human. All hope lost. No prayer of rescue. He knew he was disavowed and no help would be coming. He tried to escape, more than once. Each time failed and each time it got worse. So he kept his mouth shut and took what they gave him. Didn’t utter a word except for the screams and shouts when it became too much. He’d already failed everything and everyone else. He couldn’t fail here. Couldn’t stand to betray his country on top of it all. 

When his captors told him he was being traded for goods more valuable than him, he knew he had to end it or escape. He couldn’t do this indefinitely. Eventually, he’d break and the shell would crack and he’d be human again. So he plotted and planned, and when they came for him he knew what he had to do. His final mission, the last plan, the one to end it all. 

———

The far door opens with a clang and three guards file in, dragging a body by a chain between them. 

She’d known it would be shocking seeing him again and was already braced for what condition he’d be in, but she wasn’t quite prepared for how awful it would be to come face to face with the consequences of her own failures. How jarring it’d be to see Ethan so still and lifeless, compliant. She would’ve guessed he’d die before giving up. 

Ilsa is the cynical one, she knows the harsh realities and cruelties of this world. She’s practical. She’s been the torturer and the assassin with no regard for the lives she’s affecting. But not Ethan, it was never supposed to be him that faced down the darkness of her world and had to, somehow, come out the other side. Ilsa has already done that. Too many times to count. It’s made her who she is and she’s not prepared to be on the opposite side of that. Ilsa had been alone for so long before him and no one had ever protected her like this before - sacrificing themselves to shield her from her own mistake. She hopes it hasn’t destroyed Ethan. Taken away his loyalty, compassion, the ability to see goodness in everyone, or the desire to protect everyone. It takes every bit of her not to step forward and cradle his body to hers when another guard grabs his legs and the two men toss Ethan into the center of the room. 

Ethan hits the ground with a thud and multiple wet coughs. 

“Fucker tried to kill himself. Been a long time since he’s had that much energy.”

Fury, hatred, and grief all ripple through her at the words, but the man spoke in his native tongue, one she isn’t supposed to speak. She keeps her face and body language impassive. This isn’t a man she’s deeply in love with. He’s a job, a mission required in the course of her duties. Nothing more than the man her employers want her to hunt down and bring to them. 

If only it were that simple.

Ilsa steps forward and crouches in front of Ethan, fisting her hand into his hair. She pulls up harshly, detaching her mind from her body and what she is about to do. (Her mind is raking her eyes over him, unable to focus on one thing because her attention is immediately drawn to something else. There’s a thick chain fastened around his neck, tight to his skin and surrounded by some of the deepest bruising she’s ever seen. The end of it trails out from his neck, a mocking and sick impersonation of a leash. His hands are bound behind his back with rope that’s splotchy bright red with new blood and dark almost black of old, dried blood. She can’t see the skin of his wrists. She doesn’t want to. He’s shirtless and Ilsa can count his ribs where they protrude from his chest and the vertebrae of his spine down his scarred and bleeding back. She can identify where and what bones of his bare feet and hands have been broken and healed wrong because she’s done that, she’s broken those bones on prisoners before. She wonders what his legs look like under the ripped and torn tac pants he’s still wearing from the mission. Each breath rattles in and out across lips that are cracked and bleeding. Her eyes jump across him and she is seething, furious, ready to burn down th-) Ethan’s glare is still defiant when their eyes meet, and before he recognizes her he spits a wad of blood and saliva into her face. He starts to speak in a hoarse, raspy voice completely foreign to him “you might as well just kil-”

He cuts off as he realizes it’s her. Almost instantly his face collapses into the most profound display of grief and heartbreak and utter relief she’s ever seen. It’s an expression meant to be carved in marble, painted and displayed in a museum, or preserved in a book for all eternity but not on someone's face. Human beings aren’t supposed to look like that, especially not at her. Not for her, when she’s done so much wrong. There’s blood running from his bruised nose and congealing in the sparse hair on his lip. The smack she delivers to his face adds more to it. 

“Хуй!” She swears in Russian and wipes her face as she stands and pushes Ethan away. 

There is a simmering beast of rage burning within her. She has killed and tortured and maimed and done things that haunt her. Nothing will haunt her as much as the way his face instantly shuts off, all the emotion in his expression a moment before disappears. He doesn’t flinch or wince with the slap. Just takes it, and flops motionless to the ground. He’s nothing, a blank slate as if Ethan is gone, and here is his corpse. 

“This is the target.” Ilsa still speaks in Russian, accent perfect, with no hint that it’s not her native tongue. No hint of the swirling emotions within her. She nods to the prison warden. Alanna, face a perfect mask, passes the backpack stacked full of cash to him. 

“We can continue with the exchange then. I assure you, it’s all there. Couldn’t stay in the business like this if we didn’t ensure all terms were met on both sides.” Alanna says, perfect smile in place. Underneath it though, her skin has paled a shade. Shocked by the brutality Ethan has suffered. 

The man takes it, a slimy grin exposing yellow teeth as he hands it to another man who excuses himself to count it. 

“When my man confirms it you’re free to leave with him.” He rakes a dirty hand through his greasy hair and sends both women another nauseating smile. 

Only in your wildest dreams, Ilsa thinks as she nods to him again. She expected nothing less, to everyone else this is nothing more than a business transaction.

The room waits in silence, save for Ethan’s rattling breaths. She glances at the White Widow whose face has gone another shade paler as she looks more closely at Ethan. Her brother behind her looks grim but is no longer glaring at Ilsa. 

She refocuses on Ethan. He hasn’t moved since she slapped and pushed him back to the ground, hasn’t even turned his head so his face isn’t resting on the floor. His breaths begin to take on a wet quality and she steps over to him with less urgency than she feels. Ilsa pauses when she gets to him as if she’s considering, and carelessly uses her foot to push him up and onto his shoulder, the closest she can get him to the recovery position. 

“Can’t have you dying before my employers get their hands on you can we?” She says, her voice low as she crouches back in front of him, trying to meet his eyes and communicate with just a glance like they used to. His stare is dead ahead, eyes unfocused. There’s a small pool of blood where his face was just resting on the ground, more running from his nose and mouth. It’s concerning, but not enough to be immediately life-threatening alone. She’s not sure if paired with the rest of his injuries and the disassociation it’s a significant concern. 

She stays crouched by him, listening to his breathing and watching his chest rise and fall jerkily, winces as she can his broken ribs flex and expand under the skin that’s practically molded to them he’s so thin. 

Ilsa stands when the outer door opens and the man who counted the money nods. 

The warden looks at them, “It seems our terms have been met, the terrorist is yours. My men will move him to your vehicle. It’s a pleasure to do business with you, perhaps next time we’ll meet under more pleasurable circumstances.”

Ilsa wants to punch the man square in his smug face, maybe whip around his back and break his neck with her thighs. Instead, she nods and motions two guards forward. 

“Carry him. My employers will not appreciate any more damage to the goods.”

The warden translates, and there is a brief bickering back and forth before the guards begrudgingly scoop Ethan up by his feet and under his arms. It’s not a long walk to the roof of the compound, but it still concerns Ilsa that Ethan doesn’t move or flinch throughout the journey no matter how many times the guards carelessly let him bump into the walls of the corridor. 

Outside on the roof, the light rain from when they arrived has lifted, leaving the air damp and chilling to the bone. She instantly wants to shiver and pull her coat tighter around herself.

Ilsa points to the helicopter she arrived in, indicating where she wants the guards to set Ethan. They toss him in, none too gently. She dismisses them with a flick of her hand and they retreat back inside. She nods at Alanna and Zola, as they climb into their own helicopter.

Alanna has to shout over the sound of both helicopters spinning up, “I trust you’ll ensure he’s well healed by the time I need to call on the second half of my payment.”

Ilsa nods again, not needing another reminder of the other half of the agreement, “You have my guarantee.”

She nods to them in dismissal before ducking under the spinning rotors, stepping up into the helicopter, and sliding the door closed with a satisfying thunk when it latches. She reaches forward and taps Brandt, behind the stick of the chopper, on the shoulder, giving him the signal to fly to their first rendezvous point with Luther and Benji. His gaze is focused on Ethan, worry written in every wrinkle of his face. 

As gently as she can she rights Ethan, crouching on the floor and leaning him against the fuselage of the helicopter. He’s still out of it, gaze empty and unfocused. Ilsa blinks back sudden wetness in her eyes and swallows a choking feeling rising in her throat before dragging the first of the multiple medical bags towards her, fishing a pair of medical shears out of a front pocket. She begins to reach behind Ethan to cut the ropes on his hands when he makes an almost imperceptible sound of pain, barely audible over the sound of the helicopter as it lifts in the air. She’d have missed it if she wasn’t leaning over him. As quickly as she can she leans back, gently cradling his body to rest back against the fuselage. His eyes are red and bloodshot, one swollen, and the other already surrounded by bruising. But they are staring directly at her, locked onto her face, his expression a mix of fear and hope, an open book to her always. 

“Ilsa?” He asks in the same shattered voice as before. 

“Yes, it’s me. It’s me.” She drops the medical shears and cups his cheek with one hand, the other cradling the back of his head, her fingers tangling into his hair. 

Ethan is staring at her with so much intensity it’s almost overwhelming. Like she’s an oasis in the desert and he’s drinking her in, a dying man and she’s the thing he needs to survive. He leans his cheek into her palm, pressing into it and nosing into her wrist, eyes falling shut for the briefest moment before they snap open and he pulls his head up like it’s the hardest thing he’s ever done, eyes locked back on her. 

“You’re real? You’re alive? This is all real?” Ethan’s eyes are brimming with tears and he’s not even trying to blink them away, afraid she’ll disappear if he takes his gaze off of her for even a millisecond.  

She presses a kiss to his forehead, “It’s all real. I’m real, I’m alive. You’re alright, you’re okay.”

Ilsa swipes her thumb over the bruise under his eye, catching a tear as it falls and watching as his face crumples with relief. She pulls him into her, tucking his face into the side of her neck, pressing her own cheek on top of his head, one hand still tangled in his hair, holding. I’m here. I’m here. I’m here. We’re both alive. You’ll be okay. The other arm wraps around him carefully, avoiding the worst of the wounds on his back and holding him close for the first time in five months, pressing them together, and wishing she could lay her claim on him. She’ll never be able to protect him entirely, but damn if she doesn’t wish she could. Soon she’s crying too, silent, as Ethan shakes in her hold. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. She thinks. 

They’re safe. Together. Alive. A weight she didn’t know was on her shoulders lifts, relief coursing through her so powerfully it leaves her feeling breathless, overwhelmed, and exhausted. There is a fine tremble running through her hands. She almost didn’t get this; holding him, kissing him, loving him.

The baby kicks, shifts inside of her and she holds back a gasp. The doctor who had performed the surgery on her leg had consulted an OB after confirming she was indeed pregnant. After the surgery, there had been conversations - what to expect and when, how often she should be coming in for check-ups, and more dietary and health recommendations for herself than she wanted to think about. The list had been endless, but she had been out of it with pain, grief over losing Ethan, and overwhelmed with shock that she was pregnant after a lifetime of being told she couldn’t conceive children. But now, thinking back, the doctor had told she’d start to feel kicks and movement around five months. Even with tears on her face, she smiles a bit. He’s already like his father with perfect timing. She presses more kisses to Ethan’s hair, making her way down his face with gentle touches of her lips to his skin, ghosting over his eye, trailing across his cheekbone, and collecting salty tears until she gets to his mouth. He surges up to meet her, pressing them together desperately and with more force than she thought he was capable of. Ilsa smiles into him, god she missed this. 

Meet your dad, little man, he’s the best of us. 

an: anyone catch the sneaky little line of dialogue i stole from rogue nation in there?? title of this fic and the lyrics at the beginning are from the war, by syml. also, xуй means dick in Russian

taglist (i made this from people who showed interest, please don't hesitate to ask to be removed (or added!!), absolutely no hard feelings): @valmare @thethistlegirl @alcafrach @izzypuppybutt

[radiationgroove]

Day to Day

I can finally share my piece for the second volume of the @falloutghoulzine Greetings from Gecko! Much like the first, the second volume was a dream to work on. We'll be having our extras sale soon, so watch this space! Be sure to give this some love over on AO3 too!

It’s almost impossible to pin down what Carol could be daydreaming about. The possibilities, Greta learned long ago, were nearly endless.

Most of the time it was Gob and whatever troubles he was in. The young visitor from Vault 101 to the Northwest told Carol that instead of Gob exploring the world, he’d landed himself in some scummy little dive bar well outside the city. Carols’ mind raced with possibilities: Gob somehow owned this bar, or he was the life of the party, the bartender everyone loved, or was this something more sinister? The Vault Dweller seemed to choose their words too carefully. Was Gob in trouble? Danger? Did he need rescuing? Those fugues were broken with bouts of nostalgia; Greta spent countless nights listening half-heartedly to stories about Gob and the years Carol spent with her adopted son. 

Sometimes she was trapped in thought and wandering centuries in the past. Those were the days Greta tiptoed around her partner, keeping any outside noise in their little hotel to a minimum the best she could. Those were also the days that more often than not began with Carol waking in the middle of the night gasping for air. She whimpered, sobbed, dropped her head into her hands and cried for her Daddy. Greta couldn’t imagine what Carol saw; her ghoulification had come after the Great War when she was old enough to understand what was going on. Carol watched herself fall apart unprepared. 

It wasn’t out of the ordinary for Carol to just be sad. She drifted about the hotel like a ghost, face soft and distant. Greta caught her staring at the hallway painting in its gilded frame. Greta knew, once, who painted it, what it was called, but that had since been lost to time. These particular bouts of melancholy were sometimes too much for Greta and too hard to break. She spent longer on her smoke breaks, or tucked away in her kitchen. At the end of the day, separation was best for both of them. 

Greta hid behind her interactions, her abrasion. She didn’t hold back when it came to the quality of her food (for the few tender-stomached smoothskins that managed to linger in their doorway, anyway), or her malice towards Azrukhal and the not-so-friendly competition his bar held across the hallway. Her patience for indecisiveness was thin; you either knew what you wanted at Carol’s Place or you got the hell out. Free time was spent concocting something new to put on the menu, or at least make something more than palatable. 

She didn’t really do “friends”. At the end of the day all she needed was Carol and the little life they’d carved out with each other at Underworld. They’d been together so long it was hard to imagine a day spent without the other. Sometimes, though she wouldn’t admit it aloud, she wondered if they stayed this way because they always had been.

But, of course, that was nonsense. Love was a rare commodity in the Wasteland, and to have a love that lasted as long as theirs had was rarer still. 

Carol’s Place was quiet today. A few of their friends and neighbors wandered in for breakfast and lunch, but the hours ticked by quietly. Tulip stopped by briefly on her break for the special (nothing at all was “special” about the special) and to drop off her copy of Paradise Lost for Carol to thumb through. Even their full-time boarder, Mister Crowley, made himself scarce with little fanfare. It was quiet, and Greta was glad for it. 

Lost in the depth of her thoughts, Carol stood at the side of the bed she shared with Greta. She slipped a grimy pillow into a slightly less grimy pillowcase and fluffed. And fluffed. She fluffed again for good measure and centered the pillow on the bed. She bent to tuck the sheets into the mattress and smoothed the comforter over top…and paused. 

She was young again, a slip of a thing, all of twenty-six. Carol woke early that morning with the intention of going into town for…who knew? A day of shopping, of selfish consumerism? Sight-seeing, maybe, a stroll through the streets of Washington, DC and take in the Halloween storefronts? Either way, Carol was planning on looking her best. Every blonde lock was tucked perfectly in place. Though her father said she didn’t need it, that she was beautiful as she was, she did her makeup, balancing a face that was all high cheekbones and a strong jawline. Carol smoothed the sheets and comforter over the crisp corners of her bed. It was shaping up to be a beautiful October day. The grandfather clock downstairs in the foyer struck nine o’clock in the morning with distant gong. Her father came barreling into the house, slamming the door behind him. 

Father sped to the bunker. Chaos was still in the process of erupting around them. The streets didn’t feel any busier than normal, but people were pouring out of homes with duffle bags and suitcases. Sirens blared high above the city. The longer the sirens sounded, the faster her father drove. A crowd began to gather around the public fallout shelter; the car had barely stopped before Carol was commanded to run. Her father wasn’t far behind. 

Until he wasn’t.

Another siren. Carol stopped only a moment, turning back to check on him. A mother, a woman barely older than herself, was struggling with her twin toddlers and new baby. Her father stopped to help, to gather the children in his arms. An explosion shook the ground beneath her feet. A flash of light blinded her. Someone grabbed her arm; she screamed. The shelter door closed behind her and the survivors were plunged into darkness. 

It was too quiet. Greta wondered if this was what parents talked about before the Great War; if the children were quiet, there was usually trouble. Wiping her hands on the apron tied about her waist, Greta peeked around salvaged hospital dividers and down the little hallway. Carol remained frozen at the corner of their bed. 

“Carol?” Greta murmured, stepping slowly down the hall. Carol startled. “Hon, you okay?”  It broke Greta’s heart that the woman she’d spent decades with was so distant.

When they emerged once again, blinking into the sunlight, Carol was face to face with the blackened shape of her father scorched into the wall. She was sick all over the ground. The survivors from the shelter staggered about while DC burned. She just followed her feet forward. Always forward. The Museum of History, a place she treasured visits with her father, a place that would eventually become known to the Wasteland at large as “Underworld,” became a sanctuary. Then it became a home. 

It wasn’t until her skin began to peel that she knew there was a problem. Great chunks of it sloughed off all over. Carol spent panicked mornings in the museum restroom examining the changes; what sort of twisted puberty had the bombs brought? Then it was her hair. Her beautiful blonde hair was falling out fistfuls at a time. Between losing her hair and staring at a face full of exposed muscle, it was a wonder Carol didn’t lose her mind as so many did in those first few years. 

Carol blinked slowly. Greta didn’t look like Greta for a moment, just a mess of missing skin and clumps of hair that turned her stomach. It was like looking in the mirror in those early days when she was in pain and her body was falling apart. Panic swelled in her chest. 

“Hey…hey, you’re okay.” Greta kept space between them for fear of startling Carol further. She lingered some feet away from the bed. To Carol, “okay” couldn’t be further from the truth.

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, and eventually there was nothing Carol could do to stop the floodgates. They rolled down her cheeks unbidden. Her lips quivered and tension she didn’t know she was holding her shoulders released. Greta sighed and finally closed the gap between the two of them. Carol sobbed as she buried her face in Greta’s neck.

Helplessness was Greta’s least favorite feeling. More than anger, more than disgust, more than malice, it was helplessness. She couldn’t help Carol, not in any way that made a difference as far as she was concerned. All she could do was hold her. Greta carded her fingers through Carol’s hair while peppering her face with kisses. 

They sank into the freshly made bed, Greta pulling Carol into her lap. Across the desk, the door opened. The quiet creak was enough to draw Greta’s attention away. Winthrop stood in the doorway and suddenly felt very awkward. He wasn’t sure if it was because of Carol’s tears or…no it was definitely Greta’s glare penetrating into his soul that made him turn tail and close the door behind him. 

What had he come here for? Whatever it was he needed could wait.

The breath slowly returned to Carol’s lungs. The trembling deep in her shoulders and the knot in the pit of her stomach lessened. Her grip on Greta relaxed. Tears still rolled uneven tracks down her cheeks, but Carol was coming back into her body and her mind. Soon all they heard was the buzz of fluorescent lighting overhead and their own soft, synchronized breathing. 

“Carol? You with me?” 

“...Yeah. Yeah, I’m here, Greta”

“Good.”

Greta pressed barely-there kisses to Carol’s forehead and stroked the back of her arm. “Do you need anything?”

Carol sniffled and wiped her eyes and nose with the back of her hand. “No, I don’t think so.”

Another moment of long silence; Greta wasn’t going to pry as to what had brought this on. The options flipped through her mind once again: Gob, her ghoulification, just because? It was impossible to know what made Carol sad. 

All Greta knew is that her girl needed her.

[viperra1]

THEY TOOK BOONE.

The floor of his room in Lucky 38 was littered with bolts and screws, just waiting to be fixed into something more tangible. The Courier furrowed his brow, distracted by the frantic noises from the hall. Again. He had to hop through the trash to get to his door. "Hey, y'all, quick question – can a man have some fucking silence in his own damn house?" The noises stopped. Veronica looked at him, eyes wide and gaping from some sort of a mix between panic, pain and worry. "Six..." Ah. His guts felt like they were put in cold Siberian water. "No. Where's Boone? You were with him." The Courier paused, heartbeat quickening. He did not breathe. "He's still at McCarran?" Veronica could not utter another word. "Six..." The other people in the hall were quiet, standing around the corners, just... watching. Waiting, maybe. He did not know, and neither did he care. Finally, Gannon took the lead, laying a hand on devastated Veronica. He took a quick look at the back of her head. Injury? "McCarran was attacked by the Legion soldiers, Six. They... took captives. A captive." "...I see." Even though his palm now turned hot and sweaty, was still holding the door handle. He stood still, looking at every single person in this room – the people who's gone to battle with him, who took care of him, took care of each other and of the people that they all were oh, so tirelessly trying to save, day after day after day. The rage that he felt got nothing to do with them. He already has the crimson red look, so, well. With the level of burning, scorching, bloodlust rage he felt, this famous God damned Bull might as well be him right now. "Okay," he took a deep breath, exhale long and shuddering with anger. "Right... Get ready, folks. We're going to fucking war." He turned to Veronica, then. "You did good." If his smile was more murderous than thankful, well. His people would not hold a grudge.

details and grayscale!! i'm really proud of this piece :)

hewwo!! if any of you got to the end of the post – i am writing a fic with this courier oc x boone!! let me know if you'd be interested in reading it 🥺 i'm still too easily discouraged when in comes to writing, so support will be MUCH appreciated!!!!

[demodraws0606]

People complaining about Tsukasa5 already are pissing me off, because like, it's so unbelievably obvious what this event is trying to do and the fact that people are so hung up on "urgh dur tsukasa strong why can't he do a wall climb".

Like, first of all, a lot of Tsukasa's strength has been used as comedy before and also it's never been said that Tsukasa could specifically do a wall climb before so people calling this a retcon or a stretch is really dumb to me.

Sure we can make jokes about it, but this is not like a serious writing problem or anything.

Also are we just gonna ignore the fact this event is literally just a reference to his 3rd event in a silly trenchcoat. Or the fact that this is obviously meant to be WxS's downtime and training arc to prepare them to face the loose plotpoints in the future?

His inner dialogue when chasing the ninja is very clearly a reference to the whole Pheonix thing, how he can't reach it no matter how hard he tries.

The wall climb is like an extremely fucking on the nose metaphor to him climbing over his issues as an actor.

THERE IS ALSO THE WHOLE THING THAT HINTS THAT TSUKASA CAN ONLY OVERCOME HIS PROBLEMS IF HE HAS HELP FROM OTHERS (AKA tsukasa would've literally BEEN INJURED, if it wasn't for the fact the troupe's leader was there).

In fact this literally followed an event aka Tsukasa 4 where he FAILED to do his role correctly.

It's almost like this event is meant to be a transition point between Tsukasa 4 and 6, where Tsukasa builds up the knwoledge on how to face his problems.

But no this is just mid event because it's very silly and "wow plot is stupid why can't tsukasa wall climb".

WxS fans are slowly just turning into VBS fans in terms of how whiney they're being i swear

[oneluckydragon]

Twig enjoyed going for walks alone. It turned out she liked to go for walks with company even more.

Go read The Present is a Gift by @sincerely-sofie. Her lovely characters Ark and Twig are always on my mind.

[tswwwit]

How is the part fifth of the cult AU going?

Don't want you to feel pressure with the ask, feel free to ignore it. Take care❤️

It's currently just shy of 5k! I took a break for a bit, but momentum has returned. And I have some very fun scenes in mind I think people will like!

[tisajest]

Reverse Robins AU but the adoption order stays the same

Bruce had been Batman for around 2 decades when he witnessed the Graysons fall. He takes in little 8-year-old Dick Grayson and they become Batman & Robin a couple of months later.

Jason still tried to steal the Batmobile’s tires, but this time Dick is there with Bruce. And Dick immediately goes: friend?! Because who’s cooler than an older boy who has the audacity to steal your dad’s crime-fighting tires? Bruce doesn’t immediately take him in but he does adopt him soon after nonetheless. A year later, Batman gains a new sidekick partner.

Tim still puts together the Bats’ IDs by recognizing Robin’s quadruple somersault. He keeps this info to himself but his father’s death breaks something in him and he becomes reckless and directionless. He’s saved by one of the Bats, maybe little 11 year old Robin, and he just blurts out his name. He tells him how he was at the Graysons’ last show, how he and his parents were such huge fans. Bruce shows up but it’s too late, Dick’s already attached to his new big brother.

This teenager is obviously a threat, he knows their secret identities, but Bruce can see a bit of himself in the lost young man in front of him. He’s around the same age he was when he made the choice that changed his life forever. And having two young boys in his life, two young heroes, he can’t help but want to help Tim. It doesn’t hurt that the kid’s obviously smart and in good shape. A year later, Batman gains another partner.

Damian was never sent to Bruce, he stayed with the League. Eventually, he and Talia killed Ra’s. He becomes Talia’s right-hand but he doesn’t want it. He’s so disinterested in his own life and Talia, for all her flaws, loves her son. She tells him to leave, to “find himself or whatever it is young people do” and so Damian does. He leaves Nanda Parbat at ~18 and travels.

Damian has many skills, but he feels he’s best at killing people, so it doesn’t take long for him to take up contracts. Traveling’s fun and all but he grew restless. He does this for years, he makes a name for himself outside of being an Al’Ghul. And he’s visited Gotham, of course he has, but he doesn’t long for Bruce’s approval. He isn’t a child, he isn’t good person, and he isn’t a Wayne. Bruce means nothing to him, not really he doesn’t think Bruce would ever want him.

So, he keeps an ear out for news regarding the Bats. He visits Gotham every time he learns of a new child but he never allows himself to be noticed. One day, he hears whispers of the Wayne children being in Ethiopia of all places and he can’t help but seek them out. He gets there in time to put the Joker down permanently and prevent any lasting damage to any of them. They’re all taken by this mysterious savior to varying degrees (Tim’s the most cautious), but Dick is especially enthusiastic.

They manage to distract Damian long time enough for Bruce to get there. The long await meeting occurs and Damian decides fuck it, might as well let his father know about him. Bruce has more than enough children to fuss over and he’s an adult with his own life completely separate from Bruce, no need to make a big deal out of it. It is a big deal and Bruce is in shock and infuriated and heartbroken about his very much adult son being kept from him all this time.

As much as Bruce begs, Damian doesn’t go back to Gotham with them. Regardless, he keeps up his occasional visits and stays out of sight. Surprisingly, or maybe not, Dick is the first to find him out. And Dick, amazing human bean that he is, grows on Damian with time and interactions. He’s impressed by this child his father took in and he can’t help but want to teach him a few moves. Bruce wasn’t as oblivious to these meetings as he made himself seem, but he knows Damian isn’t interested in Bruce being his father. He’s hoping he can bridge this gap between them with Dick.

It works.

[ageofzero]

Yuna is the antagonist of a potential Final Fantasy X-3, thank you for coming to my TED Talk

edit: okay I'll put it under a read more since it'll be a long post (but not as long as my entire conversation was), but what's promised is due.

Now that I have to make the post for real I had to do some wiki reading on what the actual Things going on in the novella were, and… well, a lot of my theorycrafting was based on incomplete and kinda inaccurate information. BUT I can’t read Japanese, the book was never released here, and I am going to go with rule of cool for a little bit of this even as I keep the stuff that sounds kinda dumb on the surface. I’ll be the first to say that Tidus exploding from a bomb he thinks is a blitzball is dumb (true), and Chuami thinking she’s Auron’s daughter is a dumb plot beat (petty), but I’m weaving this bridge and I’m not going to rewrite those. I am going to change some contexts and make them exist in a narrative that I hope is compelling. That’s my disclaimer, now I’m gonna get into it.

SO.

The scenario from the novella and audio drama is thus: Tidus died again in an accident, and Yuna brings him back. But he’s not back in the same way that the Fayth gave this dream a real living body at the end of X-2. The official term for it is “beckoned”, but I probably won’t use that to describe him based on my previous understanding. No matter if he’s beckoned or not, or whatever terminology you want to use, the thing is that Yuna summoned him back. She’s holding him to life, and he can never know. It’s been a year since the moment Tidus died, and Yuna has seemingly regressed into patterns that put her into what was once Yevon’s circle. Tidus is looking injured/weakened (“Chuami: It wasn’t just [Tidus’s] words that felt hollow. When I shook his hand, his grip felt weak and lifeless... I think he’s injured. Or maybe he’s sick or something.”), and people are looking to Yuna for help or information regarding the strange not-quite Unsent (the beckoned) that are appearing in places in Spira. Help she is not capable of giving. Wakka and Lulu are protecting her as she prays in Besaid Temple. The world is seemingly acting out, with a second shoopuf appearing in the Moonflow and its energies overflowing and drawing more illusions into reality. (“Yuna: The Moonflow energy is responding to the will of the living. It’s as if… we’re in the Farplane.”) And it’s more vivid than what the Farplane is capable of, even breaking the rules of “beckoning”. This is something new, something worse. Something worse enough to bring back Sin (which I thought was just me extrapolating a potential, but they actually mention it in the audio drama that it happens). Yuna promises the people that she will defeat Sin, but Wakka tries to keep her from being made to promise such a thing at first, which is an interesting choice (“Wakka: Yuna, let’s go back to Besaid. They’ll push this all on you… Sin is for summoners, in their minds.”).

Where does the world go in this present circumstances? Why IS Yuna seemingly content to do what chafed her in the Eternal Calm short movie and stay praying in Besaid and helping the elders who are lost now that Yevon as they knew it is in shambles? Why are Lulu and Wakka enabling and protecting her in that? Why is Tidus looking injured and weak and why is Yuna keeping him at arm’s length? Why does she tell him that she’s fallen in love with someone else?

I know the typical story beat interpretation is “Yuna told him that and pushed him away so he wouldn’t be in danger for what she needs to do, bc defeating Sin caused his death last time”. But hear me out. Yuna knows Tidus isn’t alive. She knows that revealing that information to him will cause him to disappear again. She’s actively summoning him back to life and he has no idea (but he must suspect something is wrong, even before Yuna formally pulls away from him, he’s weakening and he probably doesn’t feel right in his own skin). I posit that her maintaining Tidus’s life is what she’s really doing praying in the Besaid Temple. She doesn’t want to get involved with the Moonflow situation, the shoopuf or the overflowing energy of the Moonflow itself. She doesn’t even really act when seeing all the ghosts in the crowd, and actively stops Kurgum from acting (plausible deniability: she and everyone else decide that sending them in that moment would be the wrong call and riots would break out, but that density of ghosts means that’s a significant amount of pyreflies that could become fiends at any moment).

I posit that Yuna’s powers are working, that people close to her think her powers aren’t working (Lulu and Wakka), and she’s hiding it from everyone else. That her powers aren’t working because she’s currently using them to maintain Tidus’s existence. And this maintaining is breaking the Farplane in half, because she’s powerful but has no idea what she’s doing. (Why would she really know what she’s doing or the consequences? Who has any information of what she’s doing and what will happen if she does it?) I posit that Yuna’s love for Tidus is so strong that it corrupts her sense of right and wrong. X-2 is Yuna largely going on a personal quest, and incidentally helping people but separating herself from the title of High Summoner and doing something she wants to do. Rikku encourages her to do something for herself for a change right before she agrees and runs off to become a sphere hunter. She still saves the world, this time from an ancient danger Old Yevon buried and an Unsent is threatening to use (for love, notably), but she did it in the course of looking for Tidus. Who the Fayth return to life, who she hugs and is so so relieved to have in her arms again.

She’s not going to let him go, she couldn’t let him die again so much that she called him back to life.

(side note: I never truly knew how this happened so I had to consult the wiki page on the novella, and I suspect what original information I was working with was misrepresented and misinterpreted. I openly admit that the wiki page doesn’t really help me fully understand what happened, aside from explaining how Tidus ended up in proximity to a bomb. My understanding from someone’s explanation was that an Unsent summoner on the island Yuna and Tidus got washed up on after a storm told her she could call back the dead if she wanted, as a summoner. They’re all made of pyreflies, Aeons and Fiends and People and Unsent alike, and summoners are in the business of manipulating pyreflies. Either calling them from the Fayth to form an Aeon, or Sending them to the Farplane so they do not become Fiends. A summoner with enough power could summon someone back from the dead, could they not? And this Unsent summoner knew how it worked, and told Yuna how to do it. But I don’t know how real that scene could be, or how accurate it is to what’s written in the book. It’s my rule of cool moment, though, and I worked with that as my understanding when I made this theory. We have to make our peace with that, if you’ll allow me this extrapolation of Spira’s rules and a summoner’s powers.)

(The meme is Tidus kicking a blitzball and it turned out it was a bomb and his head gets blown off, but wiki says they ended up on a vision of a Besaid from 1000 years ago, and the bomb was something neither Tidus or Yuna had seen before and to them it looked like a blitzball. So, Tidus approached what he thought was a blitzball, wondering who’s ball it was, and it exploded as he reached it. I still think that’s really dumb but I’m not editing it out bc Tidus’s death creates very interesting consequences.)

So, if Yuna is summoning Tidus back to life, and she desperately doesn’t want him to find this out so she avoids him and pushes him away through any means necessary, but he’s still weakening and fading enough to be noticeable by people… perhaps also himself… Yuna returning to Yevon in some capacity could just as likely be her looking for a means to keep feeding power to this summoning she’s doing so she doesn’t lose him. And what kind of consequences does it have to do this? He’s being summoned, but he’s not actually an Aeon. He’s not an Unsent, he’s not just being beckoned. He wasn’t even real, he was a dream in a summon held together by the raw power of Yu Yevon turning into Sin. The Moonflow overflowing and seeing a long-dead shoopuf is the least of the consequences. The Farplane is delicate, it requires careful maintenance, and here Yuna is shoving her foot in the door and holding it open for a solid year! And no one knows she’s doing this! Spira’s past is full of history, some of that long-buried secrets that no one was supposed to find again. Sin wasn’t supposed to be able to come back, but the ghosts aren’t staying ghosts anymore (“Lulu: I mean Sin came back, right? What’s to stop anything else from coming back?”).

Even people who only know her by reputation seem to think she’s acting strangely (“Kurgum: I thought Lady Yuna was… a righteous person.”), because something is wrong and no one can put their finger on what. Who would have the pieces to put any of this together, and who would even suspect Yuna in the first place? She’s actively not getting involved in politics, she’s locked herself in Besaid, she seems reluctant to answer someone she worked with and should be amicable with now (Baralai).

I think the story should follow down this path, I think it should find Yuna at the end of it, once savior and now destroyer. She’s willing to let the world rip apart in order to keep Tidus, and I think that’s a compelling premise for X-3. The past surging forward like ghosts, vengeful and lost and wanted and terrifying. Who sides with Yuna (Wakka, Lulu) and covers up the problem? Who bands together to face down the High Summoner (Tidus, Rikku)? Who doesn’t know where to place their allegiance, or who changes sides when they realize the extent of what Yuna’s hiding? What does she do when she’s faced with her friends, and the person she loves so much, telling her to stop?

There’s a line in Eternal Calm where Yaibal (named in X-2 but not in the movie itself), after asking about whether or not she’d be joining one of the factions, if she’d be making a faction of her own. And I think in this potential X-3, she’s making her own faction through the actions of becoming antagonist. She’s made Wakka cover for her, she acts in a way that make Lulu and Wakka both protect her regardless of whether or not they know what she’s doing. I think it would be so fascinating to make this a conscious decision on her part. Things have broken so utterly, and she’s desperate to hold them together, and becomes the antagonist in the process.

Squeenix would never do it, they’d never be so bold as to make Yuna the antagonist and follow through on this trajectory of her lying to people to hide that she’s the one breaking the world in half (up to returning the ghost of Sin itself to terrorize Spira). Sin isn’t the final boss in this one, it’d have to be Yuna, we have to stop her and fix what went wrong. It’s not ever gonna happen, but I still think Yuna should be the antagonist of X-3.

[ashes2caches]

The thirteenth chapter of Rad Infinitum’s third arc, The Confucian Republic, is now on AO3 (It’s officially over 222k words now!)

If you like sentient robots, transgender themes, and theology that would get you excommunicated then I think you might enjoy this series I’ve been working on. The first and second arc have already been written and are up for you to read in their entirety. Go check it out if you have the time.

Also, I can’t thank y’all enough for the recent boost in viewership I’ve been noticing, I really love to see it! :)

[thewildsophia]

OK KO, Let's be Heroes!//KO x Older Sibling!Reader

A/N: I can't believe this hasn't been written before omg. I had the thought of an older sibling reader to KO rolling around in my head while watching the series and was shocked to find no fanfics with the premise. So I did it myself.

NOTE: The Reader's powers are basically Portgas D. Ace's from One Piece. If you aren't familiar, I've attached a few gifs to give you an idea of what it's like.

Word Count: 2026

"Read More Link" placed due to length.

So I can’t think of a realistic way for Reader to be a biological older sibling to KO considering the timeline of what happened.

Soooooooo…You took on the role of KO’s older sibling, even though you’re not related by blood.

[Insert tragic backstory here] and Carol had found you when you were a young teenager wandering about without a home to go to. When she found that out about you, she couldn’t in good conscience leave you alone, so she…adopted you basically. There wasn’t any paperwork involved so you just unofficially become her second child.

Carol was SHOOK when she found out about your superpower (and that’s putting it lightly, she was freaking out--).

It happened when she failed to light the fire underneath her stove a few days after you came to live with her and KO. Not thinking much about it, you held your finger up and lit the fire yourself. When she turned and saw the small fire burning on the tip of your finger she freaked tf out thinking you were hurt. 

A one-hour explanation later, she was now on board as to what power you have: You’re made out of fire and can set other things on fire just by looking at them. You even showed her some of your moves the next day faaaaar away from anything flammable. 

Carol encouraged you to become a hero and with her help you eventually did. You became a decently high-ranking hero at a young age, clocking in at level 6. 

There were a LOT of companies trying and failing to recruit you, but you chose to stay home with Carol and KO (no Carol is NOT crying-).

KO was quite young when you were “adopted,” being around 3 or 4 at the time. Because of that, he always assumed that you were his older sibling by blood and it wasn’t until one day between ages 6 to 11 that Carol told him the truth.

My boy was shocked, but it didn’t change anything between your dynamic. 

In fact, you became even more of an inspiration to him on his path to becoming a hero!

You helped Carol a lot at the fitness dojo until Carol got KO a job at Gar’s, to which Carol also had you hired to keep an eye on KO. Not that she didn’t trust him, she just knew that he could get in over his head sometimes and wanted to have someone be there to protect him. 

Talking about Gar’s, Rad and Enid absolutely ADORE you. You’re the unofficial manager appointed by them truly because you are a few levels higher than them. 

At first, when they heard they were getting two new coworkers, they didn’t think much of it. You and KO seemed nice enough so they didn’t mind having you around. 

It’s not until the Darell robot for the day comes busting into the plaza that their opinion changes. 

Just ask KO is about to get absolutely decked by Darell, you zoomed onto the scene in a blaze of fire and punched the bot, setting it on fire while also hitting it with enough force to send it back to Boxmore with KO nestled into your other arm. 

“Nobody ever touched my little brother.” You muttered under your breath while wrapping KO into your arms further to soothe him. You walk past a stunned Rad and Enid as you enter the store and get back to work.

That day, Rad and Enid also became your younger siblings. Pestering you with questions like “How did you get so strong?” and “Where did you get that power from?” Considering you’re a year or two older and much stronger you embraced the title with honor.

You actually became a little bit of a local celebrity after working at Gar’s for a while. People, locals really, would occasionally come in a ask to take a picture with you. Abashed, you said yes every time because you really couldn’t say no. Real Magic Skeleton even has a picture of you on his site with a small bio (You blushed so hard when you found out you thought you were gonna explode).

Speaking of which, KO LOVES to flaunt you around and hype you up, much to your embarrassment. He says stuff like, “Look at my cool amazingly strong older sibling!” and “My older sibling could beat up your older sibling!” 

KO means well, but he embarrasses the shit out of you.

MAD PROTECTIVE. If Carol is protective then you are on another level entirely. If someone even says something mean about KO it’s on sight. People learned very quickly that you are KO’s older sibling and that you will not hesitate to DIE to protect him (KO prays that it never comes to that).

I could see a rude customer coming in and harassing KO about Cob knows what and you just come up behind them and punch them out of the store. When Mr. Gar confronted you about it, you held your ground and stated proudly what you had done. He was honestly surprised at your resolve and didn’t punish you at all, saying “You should stick up for yourself and the ones you love.”

Lord Boxman even became a little weary about attacking the plaza knowing that you worked there and you are a pretty strong defender. That doesn’t stop him, of course, but he does strategize to combat you better.

Professor Venomous encourages Boxman to capture you and “convert” you to villainy since your power is something that could be very useful to them. You’ve heard people throughout your life make comments about how “villainous” your power is, but you never let it get to your head since you know who you are and that’s all that matters. 

Taking. Naps. Together. Seriously, if KO ever doses off during one of his shifts, you’re quick to follow him. You’ll scoop him up into your arms and sit down somewhere in the corner and fall asleep with him. Rad and Enid think it’s absolutely adorable and have several pictures of you two.

Rad and Enid will even join your cuddle pile in the break room when time permits (or when they make the time themselves).

KO will even occasionally crawl into your bed at home and sleep with you there. He says that your bed is more comfortable than his, but you really know he gets lonely sometimes.

Piggyback rides! KO loves to lounge on your shoulders and back and will often hang off of you as he does with Rad. 

You’re also just used to the feeling of holding/carrying KO that it sometimes feels weird when you haven’t for a while.

When you met TKO for the first time you kinda panicked like many of the other plaza members. It was an especially stressful time in your life (and probably much more for Carol).

TKO wasn’t that fond of you either which made everything 10x harder to deal with. He didn’t actively dislike you, it was more like he wanted nothing to do with you.

Once KO came out of that initial swap between himself and TKO, you didn’t really think much about it. 

When he mentioned some “Shadowy Figure” though you immediately began to do as much research as you could on the guy, you were determined to beat the crap out of this guy (if not kill him-).

Listening to KO cry into your and Carol’s arms blabbering about, “I’m so sorry!” and “I don’t know what he did to me!” You honestly thought this man had touched KO (I know I’m not the only one…right??). It took a lot of coaxing, but you eventually managed to understand what happened when KO told you the full story.

It’s not until Dendy begins to monitor KO and TKO that you start to give his alter much thought. You encourage KO to pursue research into his darker ego, assuming he’s okay with it of course, and offer to be someone he can talk to about it if he isn’t comfortable talking to anyone else about it. 

During some of these talks, you open up about yourself a bit to KO to make him feel better and let him know that the negative emotions he feels are normal. 

During some of the more intimate conversations, you tell him how you used to hurt people and even kill at times before Carol took you in.

KO doesn’t believe you at first. How could someone so kind and loving have killed in their life? You use that to help you explain that good people do bad things sometimes, but that doesn’t make them a bad person. 

You teach him that TKO isn’t something that he should be ashamed of and cage up in the back of his mind, but could instead be someone to rely on in times of need.

He feels a lot better after you tell him all of this.

Hugging and holding KO close to you during nights when he feels really bad about himself. Where he doubts his ability to become a good hero and to be able to harness TKO’s powers. 

You’d rock him back in forth in his bed while quietly soothing him over his crying. He asked you not to tell Mommy and you promised him that he had your word.

I could honestly see Reader lying to cover up KO’s tracks. Like KO is caught doing something he absolutely should not be doing and instead of immediately admitting fault, you would come up with some realistic yet unfeasible lie that only works about 50% of the time.

KO loves to spar with you! He learned most of his physical skills from you, stuff like punching, jumping, kicking, and all that fun stuff. You’ve never used your fire powers against him though.

There was one incident where Boxmore accidentally found out what your weakness is, that being water. A Shannon bot had thrown you into the little kiddie pool Rad and Enid had set up before the attack started.

When you jumped out of the pool soaking wet and unable to start a fire, the stupid sibling trio laughed and mocked you. Enid was quick to come in with a kick to Raymond’s head and you soon found your footing.

Boxmore learned that day not to underestimate you as even without your powers you’re still a physically strong hero.

However, it would seem that Boxman and Professor Venomous stored that data about you since some of the bots they send are equipped with water guns. You’ve gotten pretty good at dodging them, so that’s kinda cool.

You do remember one time after KO had gotten a handle over TKO where you had been drenched with a bucket of water and right as you were about to get socked by Raymond, KO had pushed you out of the way and dodged the punch himself.

You had never been more proud of KO than in that moment and you made that known to him after the fight. You ran up to him and cradled him in your arms talking about how proud you were and that he was becoming such a fine hero (that last one got him to blush a little).

Rad and Enid definitely took a picture of this and then proceeded to print out a copy and put it in the break room.

When you and KO found out that your mom was dating Mr. Gar, you both were a little unsure about how you felt. When Rad and Enid asked about it, they asked the two of you together and then asked you separately. 

Seeing as you’re the older sibling they thought that you would have had a better idea of how you feel about the whole arrangement and were bummed out when they realized that you really didn’t know how you felt. 

After the date you four hosted for Carol and Mr. Gar, both you and KO see how happy Mr. Gar makes your mom and decide that if she’s happy then you’re happy as well.

KO is honestly one of the best younger brothers you could ever ask for. He’s kind and selfless and wants to help others when he can. And in return, you are the best older sibling that KO could ever ask for.

Sorry the format looks off in some places, Tumblr just makes booty juice decisions like limiting the character limit per block to 4096 words...

[radskull-69]

Could u make a short one-shot about Bob Velseb x Y/n plz!! Also I love your work!

plot: Bob is your boss who has always sweet on you and does things he wouldn’t normally do for his employees, like defend them against a wild Karen or give them breaks for longer then an hour….blow up your messages every night.

You resisted the urge to even hav your eye twitch in agitation (hell, to not leap over this counter!) as the older woman across from you behind the counter was going off at you, they hadn’t even ordered yet.

something about us murdering animals when we should’ve been selling vegan meat.

honestly, you didn’t get it. If you don’t want meat in your food don’t come to a diner with MEAT!

“I am sick of you monsters butchering up poor defenceless animals! I wanna see your manager!” Her manicured hand slammed down onto the counter, her screeching voice ringing out around the shop and making other customers either give you annoyed glared or sympathetic looks.

yet no one came in to help, you’d give them the finger if you could. But your too much of a pussy to do that, and you value this job.

“You should be ashamed of yourself!” The woman jabs a finger at you, making you lean back as she got more and more hostile. “Do you not care for animals? You disgusting-!”

“What’s all dis’ ruckus about? Heard someone wanted me.” A deep southern voice sounded out behind you, tilting your head up you were met with bob looming over you and casting a large shadow over the now (finally) quiet woman.

Oh great, one of the other employees must of went and got him for you. Awesome.. this is just gonna make matters worse.

“I-I.. yes! I wanted to tell you that your employee here won’t sell me any vegan burgers.” The woman finally fixes her scared look and with a stumble goes back to glaring, though no longer yelling.

“Hmm, well. If ya haven’t notice yet.” Bob leaned forward to rest his arm heavily on the counter, even though you were in-front of him. So now while he bended over to do just that you had to bend over slightly as well as to not get crushed from him, face beer red as you kept your eyes trained to the red counter

“This is a diner, not a front yawn where ya munch of grass.” Despite his usual large grin it was obviously strained and his eyes were wide and full of warning, you shivered. Glad to not be on the other end of the stick of that.

“Well- excuse you-!” Before the woman could even finish her sentence with a look of high offence she suddenly shut up, and it almost looked like the blood drained from her face as if a vampire sucked it out.

You wondered what kind of look Bob must’ve given her to scare her so because with a stutter she was out the door before you could blink.

You stood there in confusion and once again tilted your head up curiously to look at bob’s face but were only met with a much softer look and worry on his features, one of his large hands coming up to your shoulder and turning you to face him better.

”you doin’ alright darlin’? Sorry ya had ta’ deal with that witch longer then ya had ta’, saw her comin’ awfully close to ya though..” his brows furrow, creating a worry line between them as I looks you over. You only let out a nod and a ‘uh huh’ as he did so, painfully aware of the stares some of the customers where giving you at the moment still.

“I’m fine, just a bit spooked is all. But I’ve been working in customer service for years so it’s nothing I can’t handle” you wave off his concerns and gently grabbed the hand that was tugging on the collar of your uniform to check for any unhidden injuries, you didn’t need your boss of all people to accidentally look down your shirt.

“Hmm.. if ya say so, but I think you deserve a break. A thirty min- no, a full hour break. With me, in my office.” Bob nodded to himself and the worry was washed off his face and instead replaced with a look of satisfaction with his arrangement he made up for you.

“Oh no- it’s fine, really! I don’t want to bother-“ you were scooting away from bob with a polite smile but his arm wrapped around your torso and before you could say anything more he was already leading you through the staff door and to his office as he chuckled in earnest

“Nonsense! I made ya some lunch for yer’ break actually an’ I wanna have yer’ opinion on em’. Remember? I sent ya a text about it last night while I was makin’ em. There yer’ face food right?” He tilted his head down to you for affirmation as he shut his door behind him, his arm finally leaving your torso with a slight linger you didn’t notice

you sighed and nodded, he kept you a bit past your bedtime with his texts, like he did almost every night. You didn’t speak up on the matter of your sleep schedule being interrupted and instead sat at one of the two leather chairs infront of his desk facing towards it

“Mhm, thanks again Bob.” You shot him a genuine smile, grateful for the free food. And a added plus of bob being a damn good cook.

“Of course!” He strolled up to you from behind as you sat in the seat, hands setting themselves on your shoulders heavily as he leaned down to your level to chuckle lowly in your ear. The grip on your shoulders tightening just a fraction as you tensed.

“Anythin’ for my favourite lil employee~”

[radical-sky]

just a little bored, i'm feeling crummy ilsa/ethan one-shot. post dead reckoning part 2. nothing explicit, but very much so implied. no beta, just something i punched out quickly on my computer.

UPDATE: edited and posted on ao3 here

Ethan isn't sure what woke him up, but he's not complaining. Ilsa is warm and soft, tucked against him, face peaceful and relaxed in sleep. A strand of hair pulled from the braid she never took out has fallen across her face, breaking the line of her jaw, the soft curve of her cheek. He pulls an arm from where they're wrapped around her and tucks the hair behind her ear. She dyed it dark auburn, nearly the same shade as when they first met, before they settled at this safe house almost three weeks ago. His hand lingers on her face, fingers brushing over her cheek before moving to her neck, settling on her pulse point. He focuses on the steady beat under his fingers, the easy thrum of her heart pumping blood through her veins. He counts the beats, each one a visceral reminder that Ilsa is alive, here with him. The year of his life when he thought she was dead nothing more than bad memories now. He forgave her the moment she revealed herself to him, pulling him from the proverbial cliff and saving his life in more ways than one. They’d beaten The Entity, defeated the machine together, and killed Gabriel along with it. 

It’s been six months and Ethan is the most peaceful he’s ever felt. He’d been weary after Venice, exhausted in a way that settled deep in his bones and didn’t lift no matter how much he slept - or tried to. The grief of Ilsa’s death had weighed on him, haunted him in a way he never could’ve imagined. After the Entity, all he wanted was rest. Peace. Slow mornings, easy days, evenings wrapped up with Ilsa. A future without the fate of the world on his shoulders.

The safehouse they’re in now is remote, completely off grid. A cabin Ilsa set up early in her MI6 career, deep in Northern Sweden, nestled amongst steep mountains and well hidden in a dense forest. There’s no electricity except for a small diesel generator that powers the water pump and some lights if they need them. The single room is heated by a wood burning stove. It’s cozy, intimate, and domestic in a way he hasn’t experienced in almost 20 years. This is what freedom feels like. 

Ilsa is warm against him, bare skin pressed against his where they’re still wrapped together, touching everywhere they can. Even in sleep they both want the reminder that the other is there. The blankets trap their heat and keep them comfortable, but he can feel the chill of the air in the room on his face. They’d gotten distracted the previous evening and forgotten to fill the stove before losing themselves in each other. Ethan tightens his grip around Ilsa, pulling her impossibly closer and tucking his face into space between her shoulder and neck, kissing, tasting, always imprinting every bit of her to memory. 

As carefully as he can, Ethan extracts himself from her, slipping out of bed silently. He collects clothes as he makes his way across the cabin; soft sweatpants, wool socks, and an even softer flannel before he shrugs into his jacket, shoves his feet into leather boots and steps outside to grab wood and kindling for the stove. The air outside the cabin is cold enough to knock the breath from his lungs, and he quickly fills the canvas log carrier, the moon bright in the sky, forest around him muted and muffled under more snow. He slips inside, stepping out of his boots before making his way to the stove. It doesn’t take him long to fill the small stove, the little blaze warming the interior and quickly brightening the room with warm and soft light. He’s stacking the rest of the wood into the small rack next to the stove when he feels arms wrap around him from behind. In the past, he’d be raising into a defensive position, taking ahold of his attacker. His body doesn’t even tense, long relaxed, defenses shut down knowing Ilsa is the only one near him. Ethan smiles, looking up at her, and pressing back into her as she steps up and meets his body with hers. 

“I distracted you last night and the stove went out, didn’t it?” She asks, voice soft as she grins down at him. 

He brushes the bits of wood from his hands and brings them up to clasp her arms. She also picked up clothing as she made her way across the cabin and he rubs his hands across the sleeves of his own sweater she’s wearing before he pushes it up her arm. Gently, he kisses the inside of her wrist, finding her pulse yet again before he trails kisses up to her palm. 

“I’ll let you distract me anytime.” He stands and turns as he says it, slow as his knees and bad leg complain. She’s there as he rises, expression soft, happy. Ilsa takes his face in her hands, fingers already cold against his skin. He meets her halfway. The kiss is slow, gentle. Passion behind it but no urgency. They have all the time in the world. Ethan’s hand tangles in her hair, further messes up the braid, then other pulls her close, needing her body against his. 

“Come back to bed, darling, warm me up.” She’s barely pulled away from him, and her lips brush his still as she speaks. 

Ethan nods against her, hands still roaming, tucking under the borrowed sweater, fitting themselves around her waist. She works at the jacket he never took off, and he lets go of her only long enough to shrug out of it. It’s several minutes before they make it back the bed, lost and distracted in each other. 

They tuck together again, lips flushed but bodies still freezing, arms wrapped around the other, holding. Her face is tucked into his chest, and Ethan can feel her gentle smile as they settle against one another. Idly, he traces patterns on her back, working his way around her chest, and resting on the sweater where he knows the scar on her left shoulder is. 

“Ethan…” she begins, knowing where his head his going, a conversation they’ve already had many times. 

“I don’t know what I would’ve done if you died Ilsa. I can’t imagine this without you. I don’t know if I would’ve walked away from the Sevastopol if you hadn’t been there.” 

Ilsa takes his hand, and moves it down, pressing it over her heart. 

“It’s in the past, Ethan. It’s not worth thinking about. I’m right here, I’ll always be here.”

Ethan leans down, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

“This is all I want Ilsa. Life with you, whatever that means. I never want to wake up without you.”

She shifts against him, this isn’t the way this conversation usually goes. Normally he starts talking about the mission, blaming himself. Saying he should’ve gotten to the bridge faster, planned differently.

“Ethan, you know that’s what I want too, life together. Just us.” Ilsa pulls pushes her fingers into the hair at the base of his skull, tangling into the still too-long strands. 

“I love you Ethan.”

He pulls her closer to him. How did he get this? How did he almost lose this?

“I love you too Ilsa, more than you’ll ever know.” 

They hardly need to move to press their lips together, slowly opening up to one another, touch tender and revenant as they undress each other. Ethan is smiling, eyes crinkled at the edges but happy. Ilsa grins back.

God he loves her. He loves this. He is hers, she is his. He never could have dreamed of a future so complete, filled with so much joy. He doesn’t hurry, hands slow as he explores her body, they have their whole future together, and he intends to enjoy it.

[radiationgroove]

Commission: Gob

A Valentine's Day commission piece off Discord. Enjoy!

He needed out.

Gob spent too much time within the walls of the saloon while living in Moriarty’s servitude. He knew every spot of rust in the corrugated metal, every crack in the floor, every regulars’ order. Between the beatings and the beratements, he dreamt of sunlight and fresh air. His days consisted of little more than tending bar on few hours of sleep and trying to put the vision of Nova escorting a customer upstairs out of his mind.

Everything changed for him when the Irishman was found deader than dead in his bed. No one grieved for Colin Moriarty, and he was buried outside of town with little ceremony. No one questioned it. 

The bar was his, almost by default it seemed. Nova helped him barter for some paint and one obscenely large sign later, the two of them christened it “Gobs’ Saloon.” Little about his routine changed, really, except the unspoken freedom. Nova retired, as it were, put sex work behind her. Gob continued to tend the bar, but he was no longer looking over his shoulder for a shadow and jumping at every unexpected sound.  Well…less frequently anyway. Some habits were hard to break.

And he could leave! Whenever he wanted to! He could take walks through Megaton, which he did. He’d fill his pockets with caps, just in case, and wander. Somehow, in all the years he’d spent here since leaving Underworld, there were still people he hadn’t met. He explored all of the walkways, visited Moira at the supply shop, and, at his bravest, waded through the water surrounding the bomb, just to listen to the Children of Atom preach and soak up some rads.

Gob liked the Brass Lantern across the center of town. Jenny was nice enough, as was Leo despite his…difficulties. Andy didn’t care much for the ghoul, and glared daggers every time Gob sat at the lunch counter. Which, he supposed, was all right by Gob.. Jenny served him nonetheless. Gob must have tried everything on the menu at least once. So the Brass Lantern became a visit for Gob once, sometimes twice a week. He needed a new routine, he decided, a nice thing to do for himself after a long day.

Gob never really had the urge to venture outside the safety of Megaton’s walls. Yes, he missed Carol (and Greta, if he was being honest with himself) and Underworld dearly, but Megaton became home sweet home. Noodles were tonights’ dinner of choice. Jenny’d given him chopsticks; Gob gladly fumbled with them while he ate.

Somewhere in the metal framework of Megaton, a close, dull thunk. He startled, his noodles falling back into the bowl. Gob remained very still. Megaton was, largely, a safe place to live; surely nothing could be lurking around the corner, waiting to pounce. Gob sat at the counter at the Brass Lantern in silence. He dared not move a muscle. Somehow, the center of town was nearly empty; the Children of Atom preacher had even called it quits for the night. Across the street he could just barely hear Doc Church typing up records on his terminal from an open window. If Gob needed a hero he’d be screwed.

But something did indeed lurk.

A blurr of gray and white shifted out of the shadows. It ran across the roof of the restaurant and jumped from the awning of the restaurant to the first empty stool. 

“Mrrp!”

The sound landed beside him. A single glowing eye blinked up at Gob.

A cat.

When was the last time he’d seen a cat? 

“Uh…hi,” Gob mumbled, suddenly very self conscious that he was talking to a cat. It was a ball of dirty white and gray fur. That single eye was milky white and the other looked to be missing all together. “Where’d you come from? How’d you get way up there?” 

The cat gave its face a little wash with the back of its paw and looked at Gob expectantly. With shaking hand, the ghoul reached out…and the cat, this sweet creature, leaned into his touch. Rubbed its face into his palm. Gob allowed himself a smile and scratched behind the cats ear.

 “I guess we’re friends now, huh?” Gob offered with a shrug. “You wanna come back to the saloon with me?”

“Mrrp,” the cat chirped in response. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he decided with a little nod, “which wouldn’t be a bad thing. Not like we have pests or anything, which…I’m not sure you’d be big enough to take care of a rat or something…” Gob paused, head cocked to one side. The cat blinked. “You’re gonna need a name.”

The cat stretched and climbed onto the bar. Gob’s bowl of noodles seemed inviting. The cat sniffed at the chopsticks…and stuck a paw into the bowl.

“Get your feet outta there!”

[landwriter]

i am sorry i was so close-

[sketch-guardian]

Some little things I want to ask! (Part of the list of asks)

1. What would they belike if they were all in a poly?

2. Mc using stickers to show whether or not they’re disappointed in them?

3. Mc making silly fake eyes paper and putting them on odon?

Feel free to ignore them and answer only one question!

As I already said, I don't mind answering asks and I would find quite rude ignoring them, so, while it might take me some time to write, I'll try to answer, hopefully in time😖(also, it wasn't specified if the headcanons were only for RAD Classmates, the New Exchange Students from the Celestial Realm or both, so I opted for the RAD classmates, since Odon was in the third ask. If you would also like to see the angel OCS in the same scenarios, please note it in the next ask🙈) Now let's proceed in order:

"RAD CLASSMATES IN A POLY RELATIONSHIP"

Just like a poly relationship between the demon brothers, a similar dynamic between the RAD classmates would result in quite the chaotic disaster, in a good way of course. Some of them, especially Demya and Domnra, might find the idea of ​​sharing MC unpleasant at first, however for the sake of the relationship, they would give it a try, slowly getting used to the dynamic. Over time the RAD classmates would find balance and each of them would carve out a small role designated specifically for them, although obviously they would make sure everyone agrees first and to include MC in particular. For example, Demya would take care of choosing the restaurants where some dates would take place, Domnra would choose training activities to carry out together, to exercise while having fun and listening to music, also satisfying Mobim's wish to visit toys shops or amusement parks, Azul would be responsible for taking photos of their special moments and personally making items that represent their love, Zuri would make sure everyone is dressed appropriately for their dates depending on the location, accommodating everyone's style, preferences and choosing outfits that would compliment their figures, while Odon would mainly take care of the members of the relationship's safety, because ultimately, being watched over by them means being protected at all times without fear, their contribution would also be eager, because in a similar relational dynamic, Odon would feel quite loved. MC would choose dates, which can vary from more reckless ideas to calmer ones like a simple cuddle pile

"RAD CLASSMATES WITH A MC WHO USES STICKERS TO SHOW APPROVAL AND DISAPPOINTMENT"

DEMYA

Demya would find such a habit cute and would be thrilled to experience such gestures from MC first hand. In the case of receiving a positive sticker, Demya would act more affectionate than usual, while for a negative sticker, she would complain and make sweet puppy eyes at MC to try to change their mind or in other cases where Demya would be more offended, she would sulk and bite her mate, luckily in a cheeky and playful way

DOMNRA/MOBIM

Domnra would find MC's actions quite dumb, but they shouldn't be fooled by his tsundere attitude, because he would pay a lot of attention to his partner's opinion, since he can be quite insecure. If he received a positive sticker, Domnra would snort, trying to hide a smug grin and a blush, demanding to keep the sticker...for no reason, of course (liar-). If Domnra received a negative sticker, he would pretend not to be upset at all and would vent his anger elsewhere, looking for ways to make up for his mistakes

Mobim would be curious about such a custom, however receiving a positive sticker from MC would make it very happy, enough to dance around. As for a negative sticker, only if MC were a monster they would give it to Mobim, because that would result in crying from Mobim, guilt from MC and a scolding from Domnra

AZUL

Azul would find MC's habit adorable and would immediately want to join, curious about his eventual results. In the case of a positive sticker, Azul would giggle like a maniac and squeeze MC enthusiastically in a hug, as if he had won a prize. For a negative sticker, however, Azul would become whiny and sad, trying to make MC change their mind. Still being a little petty asshole, Azul would return the gesture to MC as payback, randomly attaching negative stickers to MC during the day, even on their forehead, perhaps even butt

ZURI

Zuri would honestly find MC's idea a bit childish and unnecessary, at least in appearance, however if observed carefully, MC can notice how Zuri pays attention to MC's judgment. If she received a positive sticker, Zuri would simply nod and hide a faint smile, grateful for the appreciation towards her efforts, expecting nothing less. However, if she received a negative sticker, MC would only notice a stoic grimace and a slight twitch in her eyes, a sign of her annoyance. Zuri wouldn't accept such an affront very much and would make sure to make her next performance impeccable

ODON

Odon would be curious about such practice on MC's part, having never seen similar customs except in nursery schools, so they would be content to feel included. If they received a positive sticker, Odon would smile wider and give a little clap, accepting the sticker as a medal of valor. As for a negative sticker, I don't think MC would have the heart to give Odon one, especially considering their past, because just seeing Odon's smile falter would be too much.

"ODON WITH A MC WHO PUTS SILLY PAPER EYES ON THEM"

At first Odon wouldn't understand MC's intent, however they would let it slide, especially since it doesn't bother them at all. Although the sight may seem silly in the eyes of others, in the end Odon wouldn't find anything wrong with the nice gesture. Odon might think that MC is trying to give them eyes since their face is half covered by locks of hair, however Odon would assure MC that they can see just fine and that for the sake of MC's sanity, it's better not to see what lies underneath and be satisfied with the paper eyes. Odon's eye-like creatures would also look unimpressed, considering that they are fully functional eyes