#WRITTEN BY GHOUL/MILES ( THEY/HE )

[unholies]

⠀⠀ੈ♡˳⠀#𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 is an indie & highly - selective writing blog for original character ( 𝚅𝙴𝚁𝙰 𝚆𝙴𝙸 ) . general horror & sexual themes present . 𝖆 𝖘𝖙𝖚𝖉𝖞 𝖎𝖓 : being born into tragedy , fighting with boiling blood , feminine horror . vera's character is highly inspired by stephen king's ' carrie ' ( anti - stephen king ) and the films ' black swan ' and ' birds of paradise ' .⠀minors⠀+⠀personals⠀will⠀be⠀hard - blocked .⠀more⠀ info⠀below .

𝒂𝒇𝒇𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒂𝒕𝒆𝒅 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 : @selfoe / @trash2k , @eregored / @dogsrot , @urltba

character sheet⠀.⠀pinterest⠀.⠀playlist⠀.⠀promo⠀.⠀aes. sideblog

ੈ♡˳⠀general⠀rules⠀apply:⠀discrimination⠀&⠀bigotry⠀will⠀not⠀tolerated⠀and⠀you⠀will⠀be⠀hardblocked.⠀minors⠀+⠀personals⠀will⠀be⠀blocked.⠀dms⠀open⠀to⠀mutuals⠀only.⠀if⠀there⠀is⠀no⠀interaction⠀between⠀new⠀moots ( at least talking )⠀within⠀two⠀weeks ,⠀i⠀will⠀soft - block .

[ghoulbrain]

Happiness is a Warm Gun

18+ 4.5k ghoul x f!reader. predator/prey roleplay, lite bondage lite cnc into enthusiastic consent, heavy gun kink/play, pet names, clothed/naked sex, creampie, aftercare. ends tender bc i can't help myself. gif credit. written for my darling @luckytiggertalia, who asked for excessive gun kink and captor/captive. thank you! 🖤 written as a successor to Saddle Up, Sweetheart, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Being in a relationship with the world’s most notorious bounty hunter lands you in some strange situations, but none stranger than those you concoct for yourselves. You run, and the Ghoul hunts you.

The Ghoul is one of the fiercest bounty hunters in New California, yet regardless of how terrifyingly efficient he is, everyone knows he only takes on payouts worthy of his time. With his long shadow stretching out across the west, most hunters are reluctant to take on bounties over a certain threshold, lest they accidentally come between him and his quarry.

Which, at this moment, just so happens to be you.

You’ve made it to a Red Rocket truck stop just half a mile west of Junktown. What was once a glorified gas station in a world long-gone now serves as little more than a hollowed out shell providing shade for all manner of miscreants and creatures wandering the dusty wastes, still decorated in tiny reminders of life before the war.

Crouched down behind a counter, your back pressed to the grime painted wall beneath a window, you spot a heavily aged cardboard carton labeled Grey Tortious Famous Cigarettes wedged at the very back of the second shelf behind the counter. Clicking your tongue softly, you reach for it, using the barrel of your pistol to catch the corner of the box. Carefully–and quietly–you drag it close enough to grab.

Your hopes aren’t high, but–

Jackpot.

Smiling faintly, you extract a crumpled but still half-full pack of cigarettes from the carton. You glance around, eyes wandering until you spot the decrepit remains of some poor bastard collapsed against the far wall, still garbed in their threadbare signature Red Rocket uniform. With a slight nod, you fish a single cap out of a small pouch on your belt and slide it onto the shelf.

“Pleasure doing business,” you murmur to the corpse, tucking the cigarettes carefully into the pack strapped to your thigh.

A shrill whistle, the kind you’d call a dog with, snaps your attention back to the moment. You press your back tight against the wall, sucking in a sharp breath to hold.

“Alright, darlin’, y’little goose-chase is over,” the Ghoul calls into the lot. Your heart begins to race. He sounds close. “I’m man enough to admit y’outfoxed me back at the yard, that was clever. But’cha got nowhere to slip to now,” he says, voice gradually growing louder. It’s not long before you can hear the crunch of his boots in the gravel.

You screw your eyes shut, steeling yourself with a silent breath before opening them again. He’ll have to circle the building to get where you are. The crunch of his boots is louder with each step. If he keeps yapping, it’ll be even easier to track the moment he moves out of eyesight of the window you’re hiding under, and you’ll be able to creep out to get behind him. Your grip on your pistol flexes, finger poised off the trigger.

The footsteps outside grow quiet enough that you can no longer hear them over the thundering of your heart. He hasn’t said anything, but you give it an extra few seconds to be safe, holding your breath as you gingerly lift out of your crouch, careful to keep your head beneath the window frame, eyes on the door across from you. Even if he sees you, you’ll have time enough to–

You’re jerked backwards suddenly by your jacket, a scream yanked out of you as you’re pulled against the window, knocking into it.

“There y’are,” he says through his teeth, hauling you up to your feet. Fuck, he faked you out with his steps. He holds you against the window, the edge of it biting into your back, his fist curled tightly in the collar of your jacket. “Give it up, darlin’. Y’all mine now,” he coos, his voice a sinister rasp at your ear. 

Out of desperation, you drop your pistol and throw your arms up, slipping out of your jacket and stumbling forward onto your hands and knees. Your boots skid on the floor as you scramble to your feet, launching into a run. You look over your shoulder just in time to see him vaulting in through the window, scaring you into running faster.

Where you intend to run is a problem to be solved as you go.

Unfortunately for you, the Ghoul is a step ahead. Gunfire startles you halfway out of your skin, but it’s the sign that falls in your path that stops you in your tracks. You look up and see a woven cable swaying, frayed from where the crazy son of a bitch managed to shoot it clean apart. You gear up to bolt to the left, but it’s already too late. The tell-tale hiss of a rope whipping through the air is your only warning before the lasso tightens around your arms and sternum, one sharp yank pulling you off your feet and down onto your back.

The world spins. You let out a soft groan, moving to roll onto your side, but he keeps you from it with a hardy pull, gathering the rope in his hands as he walks to you.

The Ghoul lets out a low whistle, his shadow falling over you. “Close, but no cigar, sweetheart,” he drawls, crouching over you. 

Disoriented, you stare at his upside down face. He’s got his head tilted, lips parted in a crooked sneer of a smile. His eyes are dark enough that you can see yourself in them, glinting with predatory glee. You can’t hide the trill of excitement that runs through you over being looked at like that. He clicks his tongue.  

“N’aw, don’t you look plumb tuckered,” he says, voice laced with condescending sweetness. “No rest for the wicked, m’afraid,” he says, slipping his hands under your arms and hauling you up to your feet.

“You could’ve killed me,” you rasp, throat scorched by the dry desert air.

“Don’t be dramatic,” he deflects, amused. “Y’all in one piece, ‘ain’t’cha?” His breath is a warm tickle on your neck. With the rope tight across your sternum, arms pinned to your sides, he slides his gloved hand up your thigh, over your hip. His fingers tap along as he does, tickling your ribs, cupping your breast before sliding all the way up to your throat. 

The barest hint of his lips brushes the spot just behind your ear, the feeling so faint you could have made it up entirely. You shiver, pulling sharply away, but he pulls you right back in, the worn leather of his glove soft around your neck, his grip firm. 

“Mmhm, seem perfectly intact t’me,” he says, giving your throat a steadying squeeze. “No need t’put up a fight, angel. Y’comin’ with me either way.”

This time he presses his scarred lips properly to your skin, the feel of them warm and wet. Wanting. You swallow the lump in your throat, clench your thighs against the heat building between them. 

“Let go of me,” you say, fighting to put conviction in it. 

“No can do,” he says, his breath prickling goosebumps from your scalp to your thighs. “I’ve struck the motherlode with you.”

 The rope is tied low and tight enough that you can’t elbow him or shoulder your way free. Impulsively, you move to kick at his leg, but he outmaneuvers you, catching your kick with his boot and spinning you around so suddenly you gasp.

“Oohh, y’ve got fire,” he says, lips pulled thin in a devilish smile. “I’m gonna enjoy breakin’ you.” Something hard presses into your rib, and you don’t need to look down to know it’s the muzzle of his revolver. He draws the hammer back into place with a distinctive click. 

“Why don’t you be a good li’l captive and mosey on ahead?” He says, turning you until the gun is pressed into your lower back. You suppress a shudder. That’s when the world suddenly goes black, the press of the gun briefly vanishing while fabric is pulled tight over your eyes.

Wherever he’s taking you, he wants it to be a surprise.

The Ghoul walks you at gunpoint. He keeps the rope between you taut, the barrel of his gun pressed firmly to your back. The venture there is quiet, your gait tense with anticipation. A sick little thrill runs through you every time he yanks the rope or gives you a deep jab with his gun. There’s pleasure in his voice when he tells you, “Mind your step, sweetness.”

He knows precisely the effect he has on you, even if it took him time and a half to believe it.

His knuckles dig into your back as his fingers hook over the rope, holding it like a harness as you descend a flight of stairs. He catches you when you stumble on the last step, but it still startles you.

“A warning would have been nice,” you say, turning your head blindly, angling to try and get any glimpse of your surroundings from beneath the blindfold.

“Apologies,” he drawls, not sounding very sorry at all. He nudges you forward with his gun. “I like watchin’ you struggle.”

“Yeah, you make that very–” A hard tug on the rope cuts you off and stops you in your tracks. The rope comes loose after that, full circulation returning to your hands in a rush that makes them tingle. The Ghoul’s steps resonate in the room–it sounds large, mostly empty–as he walks away from you. You stay still for a hesitant moment, head jerking at the sound of something scraping across the floor towards you.

“Awwh, ain’t you sweet, waitin’ for permission,” he says, making you flush. You quickly reach up and pull the blindfold from your eyes, blinking to adjust to the dimly lit room. 

It looks like a cleared out storage facility of some kind, with cement support beams lined up in a row down the center of the room, the walls lined with ransacked steel shelving. There’s a wire frame bed braced against one of the beams, heaped haphazardly with some pillows and blankets. 

The Ghoul sits on a rusty wrought iron chair in front of you, staring up from beneath the wide brim of his hat. From his thigh, he has his revolver fixed on you. 

“Atta girl,” he says as the blindfold hits the ground. “Now take off the rest.”

The low resonance of his voice easily commands the room. You swallow the lump in your throat, glancing down the dark barrel of his gun. Biting your tongue to keep yourself from showing too much excitement, you hurriedly reach for your–

The gunshot is deafening in the echoing expanse of the room, drowning out your scream. Already high on your own anticipation, the shot of adrenaline that goes through you with the startle nearly knocks you off your feet. 

His gun smokes in the wake of the shot that narrowly missed your reaching hand.

“Slow,” he tells you, cocking the hammer once again with his thumb.

The pound of your heart is rivaled only by the aching throb between your thighs. Breathing shallowly, you keep your eyes trained on him as you–slowly, this time–reach for your belt, pouches shifting as you unbuckle it. You lay it carefully on the ground, mindful of the treasures you acquired at the gas station, before you kick off each boot.

His gaze is heavy on you all the while, eyes dark and attentive to your every move. Your focus is on the tip of his gun, how it subtly follows along with your hands. You peel each layer off without taking your eyes from him, a shiver moving through you once your hands touch bare skin, purposefully sliding them down your hips, your legs, and then moving them slowly back up as you stand back up, stepping out of the garments pooled on the floor.

He tilts his gun sideways and beckons you forward with it, tipping his head back, dark eyes tracking your every move as you approach him. One at a time, he spreads his legs. “On y’knees, darlin’.” You obey, sinking down–slowly, he told you slow–onto your knees between his legs, bringing yourself to eye level with his gun. The cement floor feels harsh against your bare skin.

“Y’got my gun dirty runnin’ me out into the wastes like that,” he chides, leaning forward, pressing his gun to your sternum. With agonizing slowness, he drags the muzzle up through the valley between your breasts, to the notch beneath your throat, pressing into it briefly. He continues up, the metal cool against your burning skin, though not by much. He hooks the barrel under your chin and tips your head back.

“Clean it for me,” he says, pushing it between your lips.

While you open your mouth too readily for the game at hand, he doesn’t protest. The taste of the gun is bitter and metallic, but what strikes you most is the black powder residue. It’s charred with a sharp tang. A moan escapes you for the way he pushes it deeper, forcing your lips wider apart.

“Don’t be shy. Give ‘er a good spit shine, sweetheart,” he encourages, pulling the gun back only to push it deeper yet. You comply, welcoming the slide of it deeper, pressing your tongue into the grooves on the underside, your eyes half-lidded and glazed with desire. “Good,” he says, voice rough with the effect you’re having on him.

Hands braced on your own bare thighs, your nails bite dull little crescents into your skin. The rock of your body is entirely subconscious, your eyelids fluttering. It’s easy to lose yourself to the work at hand, to luxuriate in the weight of his gaze on you while he uses you, fucking your mouth with the full barrel of his gun. He’s so committed to the fantasy, you can’t help but buy into it wholly.

By the time he pulls the gun away your chin is spit slick and your tongue is tingling where you’d been pressing it to the barrel. He gives an appreciative whistle while inspecting the wet shine of his gun. “That’s better,” he says, gaze sliding to you. He stands, grabbing a thick handful of your hair to haul you up to your feet with him. The noise you make is humiliating. Needy. His answering grin is wicked.

“Time t’oil it,” he says, voice frayed at the edges. He doesn’t let that trace of impatience impact his movements any. He walks you to the bed with that same loose devil-may-care swagger, assured that he has all the time in the world to take you apart piece by piece. 

The mattress’ metal coils groan with your weight as he tosses you onto the bed, standing at the edge of it. The bed stands taller than most, bringing your pelvis parallel to his when you’re on your knees. He grabs your thigh and yanks your ass up into the air, smoothing his hand over the swell of it. He gives a sharp little slap to your rear that wrings a gasp out of you. The way he smooths his leather clad hand over the smarting spot afterwards almost feels like an apology, even if he’s really just admiring his handiwork.

“Spread,” he orders simply. You do so eagerly, widening the splay of your knees, folding your arms to rest your head on. “Look at you,” he breathes with genuine wonder, gripping your ass cheek and holding it firm while he inspects you. You can already feel what he’s looking at, how wet you are from his teasing. “Y’fuckin’ drippin’ for me.”

A shiver rolls through your whole body at the feel of his gun against your inner thigh sliding slowly upwards. Your hips give a reflexive little buck at the first touch of that warm barrel against your soaked cunt, your clit throbbing so hard it aches. “Don’t move,” he tells you. He sounds wrecked. He moves it back and forth, teasing your clit with just the muzzle of it before drawing back, and your thighs tremble with the effort to keep yourself still when all you want is to chase that precious relief.

The hiss of his zipper is the most thrilling noise you’ve ever heard. The gun disappears from between your thighs.

“Up,” he tells you, taking a rough hold of your shoulder and yanking you upright before you have the chance to comply. He holds you still while he lines himself up, the familiar thick head of his cock grinding through the wet slide of you, the length of him rubbing from taint to clit. “Y’made this big mess just from suckin’ down my gun? Christ alive, darlin’. You’re somethin’ else,” he says through his teeth. The ruin in his voice makes it feel like praise, and that feels good.

Almost as good as the slow burn of his cock pushing into you, the sound of it obscenely loud and wet. You tip your head back against his shoulder and reach back over your own, grabbing at his coat, holding onto him for dear life while he sinks deeper and deeper, pulling you back until your bare ass falls flush against him. Feeling his clothing against your bare body intensifies that intoxicating feeling of vulnerability. Never in your life has the thrill of danger been safe to explore.

Not until him.

He gives you no time to adjust, thrusting almost as soon as he’s bottomed out. 

“Fffuck,” you exhale, eyes screwed tightly shut. You start to lean forward, but he catches you by the throat, pinning you back against his chest at the same time he fires his gun, shocking your eyes wide open. Your body goes rigid, cunt seizing up so tightly around him he hisses out a breath.

“C’mon, little bunny,” he whispers in a vicious grit, pressing the still-warm muzzle firmly against your temple. “Bounce for me.” He cocks the hammer back, the smell of black powder filling your senses. 

You nod fervently, lifting up on your knees and using the mattress to bounce yourself on his cock, gravity bringing you down into every one of his hard thrusts. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, sighing his pleasure in strained little sounds. His hand slides down your throat to your chest, cupping your breast and squeezing, thumbing your nipple until you shudder.

“Close,” you moan, fist twisting in the fabric of his coat, your other hand clutching the wrist of the hand he’s fondling you with. “Please.”

His only response is to slide his hand down further, fingers slipping between your thighs. His middle finger finds your clit first, the friction making your hips jerk out of rhythm. He persists, fingering your clit in smooth circles while he fucks you hard.

“Atta girl,” he murmurs, his breath hot and wet on your neck. “All that fight’s gone now, ain’t it? Just a needy li’l thing beggin’ t’cum.” You’re so close you’re starting to shake, breath caught in your throat. “Go on, angel. Lemme hear how pretty you can beg.”

His fingers slow enough that your ascension falters. “Please!” You rasp immediately, squeezing his wrist, begging in every way you know how to. “Please, m’so close, please make me cum, please,” you plead, voice pitchy, your thoughts empty of everything but pleasure. He’s fucking you hard, chasing his own release just as fervently.  

Just like that his touch returns to full force, deftly working your clit until your pleasure crests and your pleas turn to cries. Your orgasm hits like an earthquake, a sudden eruption that renders you silent, your lips falling open on a noiseless scream. Your body locks up like a vice, euphoria turning your vision white and emptying your mind of all thought while pleasure cascades through you in hot liquid waves.

He doesn’t stop, though his thrusts slow. He fucks you deeply through your orgasm, savoring every quiver around his cock while he uses you. You don’t hear him come, but you feel it, the deep rush of heat that he empties into the core of you, his body going still against yours. Your whole body shudders and you exhale a broken little noise, dizzy from the magnitude of it all. Everything around you feels bleary, your vision fading in and out. For a moment, you feel as though you might float away from your body entirely, your consciousness barely holding on, but the feeling of him pressed against your back, holding you to him, grounds you.

He moves the gun from your temple and holsters it, adjusting his grip so that he can ease you down onto your stomach, slipping from between your legs. You pant hot puffs of air into the bedding, your vision blurry at the edges.

“Coop,” you call, signifying the end of your little game of pretend.

“M’right here,” he soothes, his bare hands upon you not a moment later. There’s a marked difference in the way he touches you now, a subtle tenderness that he’d forced out of his touch for the sake of play. You hadn’t realized how much you missed it until now, feeling it as if for the first time. 

He slides into bed next to you, having shed his gloves, coat and bandolier. You find the strength to slip an arm around him, clinging despite the tremble in your limbs. The next several seconds–moments, maybe hours, you can’t be sure–pass by in a haze of touch.

He kisses your forehead, your nose, your lips. He makes you aware of your entire body, grounding you with sweeping touches to every part of your body. It’s an intoxicating intimacy that leaves you feeling warm and drunk, still hungry for more.

 At some point Cooper gets the blanket over you, skirting his scarred fingers up and down your arm beneath it. The adrenaline crash that follows your orgasm is unlike anything you’ve experienced before, leaving you exhausted on a level beyond physical.

“Still with me?” Cooper asks after a time, fingertips tapping idle patterns on your skin as if to call you back to your body. “Mhm… Intense,” you say, the lone word slurred by your lazy tongue.

“Warned you,” he gives back, sounding nearly as ruined. His voice is deeper than usual, thoroughly frayed at the edges. It’s true, he had warned you that you were playing with fire. It’s unclear how much of that had been play, and how much was just him. Still, it had been… thrilling. Amazing. Everything you’d hoped it would be. 

“How ‘bout it, darlin’, do I scare you yet?” He asks, making it sound like an inevitability. He must believe it is.

You sigh a low hum, pretending to give the matter great thought. “Mmm… Mm-mm. Not one little bit,” you say, the words hardly legible.

“Shucks,” he says simply, feigning something like disappointment.

“Why’re you so determined to scare me off?” You ask, adjusting where your head lay on his shoulder so that you can look up at him. You’ve grown accustomed to his unique silhouette, but more than that, you’ve started to figure out what it is that makes him handsome. He’s got a wide chin and a fine jawline, and on the rare occasions you see it, a charming smile.

Much of it is in his eyes. They never fail to make your heart stutter.

“A saner question would be why you’re so determined t’stay,” he counters, those very eyes dropping to meet yours. You can’t help but smile, which–as per usual–catches him just a touch off guard.

“I got a thing for pretty men,” you say, caught up in your own musings.

His expression flattens. “Very funny,” he says, and you realize he thinks you’re mocking him.

“Hey, I mean it. I was just thinking about how handsome you are,” you say, reaching up to touch his jaw.

“There’s a specific kind’a philia for finding corpses handsome, y’know,” he says, though in his afterglow the words lack their usual sharp cynicism. They come to him more like habit than anything else.

“You’re not a corpse, Cooper,” you tell him firmly, cupping his cheek in your palm. “You don’t need to keep living like one.”

He considers you in silence for a long moment. With the back of his knuckles, he brushes your cheek. There it is again; that deep sadness that sometimes appears in his eyes when he looks at you. As if he’s mourning something.

“What?” You whisper. “Why do you–”

He kisses you, swallowing the words clean off your lips. He takes your face between his hands and kisses you, kisses you, kisses you through your meager protests until your lips move with his and you sink back down into the warmth of it. He grows progressively more relentless with it, stealing your breath until you’re forced to break away, turning your head for air.

“You can’t kiss your way out of every–”

“I know,” he interrupts you, lifting his head to level you with a hard stare. “I know, alright? But it’ll come on my terms, in my time, yeah?”

You stare, pinned by the weight in his expression. After a beat, you nod, feeling dazed by both the onslaught and his words. It’s the only time he’s acknowledged that there is something, which you suppose is progress. “Okay,” you say softly, and then again more firmly, “Okay.”

His expression softens, taking in the look of you before he kisses you again. You reciprocate, pressing into his lips with the weight of your conviction, willing him to feel how much you really do mean it. 

“Thank you for today,” you murmur, settling back down against him. “I never thought that I’d be able to… do something like that. And live,” you say, adding the last bit with a rueful smile. “I feel safe with you.”

You wait for some kind of dismissive or self-deprecating remark from him, or even a sly jab at you and your sanity, but neither come. You glance up and find him staring at you, thoughtful and–if your eyes don’t deceive you–a little sentimental.

“I don’t make promises,” he tells you, sounding resigned. “But for what it’s worth, I’d never want t’do somethin’ I thought might hurt you.”

“You’re sweet,” you say, that same sentimentality slipping into your own voice. If not a bit ominous.

“Not really,” he replies, adjusting against the bedding, his eyes falling shut. “Y’standards are just too low.”

You sigh, closing your eyes with an incredulous little smile. “Shut up.”

The two of you drift into comfortable silence, his fingers idly traipsing the contours of your body. It’s like he’s memorizing the feel of you, hyper-aware that these intimate moments together are stolen. You reciprocate, seeking out what bare skin you can with gentle brushes of your fingers. He’s never admitted as much, but you’ve long suspected he struggles with pain. He’s rarely ever unclothed, and sometimes you see him wince when he goes too long between hits of those vials.

Cooper started living on borrowed time long before he met you, but it doesn’t stop you from hoping that he might someday see something more permanent in you. With you.

In the meantime, you’ll make the most of every second.

[ghoulsbounty]

First of all, I love 'From a previous life'. It's so well written and brings me so much joy to read.

That being said, I'm very excited to see you're taking requests.

Could we get a scenario where Cooper and fem, ex-vaulty reader find an almost abandoned vault when seeking shelter from an oncoming rad storm. After clearing it out- of most threats, they get comfortable and reader decides to give cooper a taste of the finer things in life. They could get power going, potentially shower (together?) Have a meal they didn't have to hunt, sleep in an actual bed, etc.

Could involve cuddling, smut, playfulness or whatever, I just love the thought of rough and tough Cooper getting all soft as he finally gets to indulge himself for the first time in over 200 years.

Please and thank you <3

What Happens Tonight

Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x Ex-Vaultie!Reader (fem)

Summary: You proposition the Ghoul whilst taking shelter during a radstorm.

Warnings: smut (18+), shower-sex, clothed sex (party of one), p in v, swearing, flirting, angst, canon-typical violence, mutual pining, rejection, emotionally stunted Cooper, slight mentions of appearance anxiety (Cooper), tiny hint at selling reader for vials (blink and you miss it)

Word Count: 4.8K

A/N: Anon, thank you so much for such a lovely, detailed request (my first!) I hope I've managed to meet your expectations, and thank you for the kind words on From A Previous Life, I'm so glad you're enjoying it. I'd love to know what you all think to this, and feel free to send me more requests 💌

👉Read part two HERE👈

The Ghoul's voice echoed through the steel corridors of the vault as he fired off another round into the oncoming horde of feral ghouls. "So much for being abandoned!" he shouted over his shoulder, his words barely audible over the cacophony of growls and moans. His gun raised, he braced himself for another wave.

You reacted instinctively, the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you kicked out, your boot connecting with the hanging jaw of a ghoul that leaped at you. The sickening crunch of bone halted it's advance momentarily, giving the bullet from your gun time to find its mark, silencing it permanently. Blood sprayed across your face, warm and sticky as it settled on your skin, but there was no time to dwell on it.

Fumbling with the bandolier across your chest, you frantically grabbed at a bullet to reload your gun. "I didn't hear you coming up with anything," you retorted, eyes wide as another ghoul descended upon you with alarming speed, its ghastly form illuminated by the flickering lights of the vault.

It swiped at your outstretched arm, the gun flying from your grip and landing with a metallic clash against the steel floor. The ghoul lunged towards you with a guttural snarl, its rotten teeth gnashing dangerously close to your neck, and you fell backwards under it's weight in a surge of panic. Your heart pounded in your chest as you grappled with the creature, holding it inches away from your face, your hand pressing desperately against its corroded neck.

Salvation came in the form of a single bullet piercing through the air, entering and leaving the feral ghoul's skull in a clean strike. The creature's movements ceased abruptly, its lifeless form collapsing against your grip. You exhaled a shaky breath, relief flooding through you as you begun to push it away, its decaying remnants staining your body and the ground beneath you.

"Well, I'm damn sure it would have been better than this," the Ghoul remarked, his voice tinged with irritation as he kicked the lifeless body away from you. He turned his attention back to the remaining two feral ghouls, his gaze hardening with determination. "Fuckin' steel tomb. Don't know why I agreed to this," he muttered under his breath, raising his sawed off rifle at the closest enemy. 

Neither of you had been expecting the storm. After miles of trudging through the unforgiving desert, each step sinking into the soft grains like quicksand and your weary legs protesting with every movement, you had welcomed it. The sun's heat was relentless as it bore down upon you, slicking your skin with sweat as your lungs burned from the thick, humid air.

When the sky finally darkened, heavy storm clouds rolling ominously across the horizon, you had felt a sense of relief. The air crackled with a pulsing electricity, raising the hairs on your arms and sending shivers down your spine. You smiled, anticipating the rain against your hot skin, cooling it like a balm, but your glee ended when you followed the Ghoul's troubled gaze skyward. The once-promising clouds twisted into a menacing green hue, casting an eerie glow over the wasteland. As they churned and roiled overhead, you felt the Ghoul tug at your hand as you both fled.

You had struggled to keep pace with the Ghoul as he dragged you along the desert, his movements swift and determined despite the looming threat of the storm overhead. The sound of thunder grew louder with each passing moment, urging you forward towards the faint glimmer of hope on the horizon—the open blast door, rusted and weathered against the harsh backdrop of the desert rocks. Salvation.

"You didn't have much choice," you reminded him, now dusting yourself off as you rose to your feet and joined him at his side. With practiced ease, you reached for the pistol holstered at his hip, levelling it at the snarling feral ghoul before you. Without hesitation, you pulled the trigger, the blast tearing through the ghoul's face and sending it crashing to the ground.

"Not all of us are immune to radstorms," you continued, your voice firm as you glanced at him, a hint of a smile on your lips. "And you'd miss me too much."

With a grunt of acknowledgment, he dispatched the last remaining ghoul with a well-aimed shot to the head. As the echoes of gunfire faded, silence descended upon the hallway, the only sound a soft hum of electricity coursing through the ancient structure.

"Like a hole in the head," he muttered, his tone laced with grim amusement as he surveyed the aftermath of the encounter, slinging his rifle onto his back.

You rolled your eyes in response, holstering his gun back at his hip before bending to retrieve your own from where it had been flung during the scuffle with the feral ghoul. Blood smeared across your skin as you wiped at your eyes with the back of your hand, blinking away the remnants of the encounter.

The Ghoul scrutinized you with a critical eye, flicking at a piece of rotten flesh that rested on your shoulder. It hit the ground with a wet splat. "You look like shit," he remarked bluntly, his tone devoid of any sugar-coating as he took in your dishevelled appearance. "Smell like it too."

A wry grin tugged at your lips despite the grim circumstances, looking down at your bloody clothes. "I don't think ghouls concern themselves with personal hygiene when they're rotting from the inside out," you quipped, attempting to lighten the mood, though you quickly fumbled to apologize when you saw his expression falter. "Not you, you're different."

He kicked at the corpse with a spurred boot, a hint of bitterness tainting his features. "Debateable," he muttered, his voice heavy with a weight you couldn't quite discern.

Before you could say anything, he urged you forward through the dim hallway, stepping over the dead as you pushed deeper into the belly of the vault.

"The backup generator is running, but barely" you informed him, eyeing the flickering lights overhead. "If we find an apartment close to the power room, it might have enough for a hot shower. I bet there's still an old tin of cram or two hanging around, too."

He chuckled teasingly, his voice echoing softly in the corridor. "Feeling at home, vaultie?" he asked, a hint of amusement colouring his words.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of nostalgia as you took in the familiar twists and turns of the Vault-Tec vault. It had been months since you left your own vault on a standard recon mission for the overseer. Memories of your first days outside the safety of your home flooded back, the naivety of not quite understanding your surroundings almost leading you to your demise. It was only through the intervention of the irradiated bounty hunter that you had been spared from certain death.

Despite the dangers of the wasteland, you had found a sense of belonging alongside the Ghoul, his gruff exterior belying a reluctant camaraderie that had formed between you. His initial frustration at your presence had given way to begrudging acceptance, and eventually, he had presented you with an ultimatum: he would guide you through the commonwealth in return for your assistance in retrieving his next batch of vials. What exactly your role would entail remained unclear, but you had agreed without hesitation, eager to repay the debt you owed him for saving your life.

"Let's try in here," you suggested, gesturing towards the apartment block as you led the way. Stopping at the first open door, you peered inside, finding the remnants of a life left behind. The apartment boasted a homely kitchen diner attached to an open-planned living room, but a thick layer of dust coated every surface, casting a sombre feeling over the once-vibrant space.

As you moved to step into the apartment, the Ghoul's gloved hand closed firmly around your wrist, halting your progress. "We should check on the storm," he advised, his tone cautious. "It could be passing quickly, and we don't want to waste valuable time."

"What's your hurry?" you chuckled, gently freeing your arm from his grip with a shake before venturing into the kitchen. "Don't tell me you couldn't go for a little home comfort or two," you teased over your shoulder, testing the tap and smiling when the first drops of water spurted from it. 

The Ghoul stepped warily into the apartment, his hand hovering near his holstered gun as he scanned the faded space with caution, his senses alert for any signs of danger. Meanwhile, you rummaged through the cupboards with a sense of determination, your movements swift and purposeful.

Suddenly, you let out a triumphant "Aha!" The Ghoul tensed slightly as he turned his attention to you. With a proud grin, you held up your findings for his inspection. "Can I interest you in a fine meal of BlamCo Mac and Cheese, Mr. Howard?"

Your playful tone brought a rare hint of amusement to the Ghoul's features, his guard momentarily lowered in the face of your infectious enthusiasm. With a weary but genuine smile, he nodded in agreement. "Well, vaultie, I suppose it's better than nothing," he conceded, allowing himself to relax ever so slightly in the comfort of the unfamiliar surroundings as he stepped closer to the table.

"Better than spending hours hunting for a glimpse of mole-rat meat, that's for sure," you remarked with a chuckle, the sound echoing softly in the quiet confines of the apartment. You opened the E-Z pour spout of the box, decanting two portions of BlamCo Mac and Cheese into the pan on the stove. You wished for milk instead of the tap water as you added it to the mix, a small pang of longing for the comforts of home stirring within you.

As you stirred the pot, you couldn't help but notice the Ghoul's watchful gaze lingering on you from behind. Turning to face him, you observed the subtle shift in his demeanour, a hint of awkwardness marring his usually confident exterior. "Why don't you sit down, make yourself comfortable," you suggested, nodding towards the dining table that stood between you. Despite his initial hesitation, you smiled warmly when he slowly took a seat.

As you observed the Ghoul sitting at the dining table, his posture tense and his demeanour uncertain, you couldn't help but feel a sense of role reversal between the two of you. Here he was, a seasoned survivor of the wasteland, seeming out of place and unsure in the remnants of a family home. It was a stark contrast to the confidence and expertise he showed whilst guiding you on the surface.

Now, it was your turn to lead him through unfamiliar territory, to offer him a glimpse of normalcy amidst the chaos he'd known for so many years.

You served the steaming meal into two bowls you had found in the cupboard above, placing them gently on the table before the Ghoul as you settled into your seat opposite him. As he picked up his spoon and began to eat, you couldn't help but watch him with a soft affection.

He grunted in acknowledgment, a reluctant expression of gratitude escaping his scarred lips before he dug into the hot offering before him. You observed with a warm smile as he paused mid-mouthful, savouring the cheesy flavour that filled the air, his expression shifting to one of satisfaction as he gave an affirming nod.

"Not half bad," he said, then glanced at you with a glint in his eye. "Could do with a little rat meat."

You shook your head at his joke, savouring the familiar taste of the mac and cheese as you tucked into your own meal. A comfortable silence settled between you both as you ate, the only sound in the room the gentle clinking of spoons against ceramic.

Once he had finished his meal, the Ghoul leaned back in his chair, rubbing comically at his stomach as he glanced over at you with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. You couldn't help but laugh at the sight, the juxtaposition of this rugged, irradiated cowboy against the backdrop of a once-cozy family home amusing to you.

"You ever see yourself in a place like this?" you asked, resting your chin in your palm as you leaned forward, your elbow propped up on the table.

"Sweetheart, there ain't no place like this," he replied, gesturing around the room with a sweep of his hand. "This ain't real, just a lie sold to gullible folk who were desperate not to go out with the end of the world."

"I don't know," you countered, a hint of defiance in your voice. "Feels pretty real to me."

He shook his head condescendingly, a familiar tone creeping into his words. "That's 'cause you were raised by the machine," he said, his gaze steady as he met your eyes. "Reality is, you don't know your ass from your elbow."

You laughed softly, the tension easing from your shoulders as you shook your head in amusement. "Maybe not, but I think this, real or not, might be nice for just one night."

He considered your suggestion, his mouth pulling into a tight grimace as he followed your gaze to the far corner of the room where a door led into a fair-sized bedroom. From your vantage point, the queen-sized bed seemed to call out to you, promising a rare moment of comfort and respite that you hadn't felt since leaving your vault.

His expression softened as he caught the gleam of longing in your eye. "I suppose, just one night," he conceded, his tone gruff but his reluctance tinged with a hint of warmth. "You gonna wash that stink off before diving into that thing?"

You grinned at his teasing remark, then gestured to the remnants of feral ghoul clinging to his own body. "I'm not the only one who needs a shower," you pointed out with a playful smirk. "You're not getting in that bed without one."

He chuckled, his gaze momentarily dropping before meeting yours once more. "I'm taking the couch," he declared.

Your smile faltered, disappointment evident on your face as you glanced over to the dusty couch. In your eagerness for a moment of normalcy, you had momentarily forgotten the harsh reality of your situation—the boundaries that existed between you and your companion.

"I think you'd like the bed much better," you suggested tentatively, but he shook his head in refusal when you looked back at him.

"You gonna make me tell you again?" he asked, his tone firm with warning.

Memories of a recent encounter flooded your mind. Just days ago, in the chill of the night, you had sought comfort in his warmth, curling up behind him on his bedroll in a desperate attempt to stave off the cold wind that whipped through the open shelter you had found. Of course it wasn't the only reason you had crossed that line, but you told yourself otherwise.

At first, he had stirred slowly, his initial reaction one of sleep-hazed confusion, but realization settled on him at the touch of your hand on his back. He had pushed you away, demanding to know what had gotten into you, banishing you back to your own bedroll, and in the morning he had made it clear that it was not to happen again—that you needed to get your head on straight.

With a heavy sigh, you resigned yourself to the reality of the situation. Memories of the ease of intimacy in your vault flooded your mind—the shared moments of mutual gratification with fellow residents that had once been commonplace. But on the surface, such connections seemed few and far between, leaving you feeling isolated and starved for physical affection.

Despite your initial recoil at the sight of the Ghoul, a newfound curiosity had begun to stir within you—a longing for the touch of another, of his rough hands, weathered by the harshness of the wasteland, tracing patterns across your flesh. It filled you with a heady mixture of excitement and apprehension. The mere thought of it sent a shiver down your spine, igniting a fire within you that you struggled to suppress. 

And yet, here you both were—plucked from your shared reality and forced to remain in this abandoned apartment until the radstorm had passed.

The confines of the room seemed to shrink around you as the tension between you and the Ghoul hung heavy in the air. Each passing moment only served to heighten the palpable desire that simmered beneath the surface.

"I'm going to wash this off," you announced, your voice steady despite the racing of your heart, as you rose from your seat and fixed your gaze on him. "You're right, none of this is real. Tomorrow is a new day, so what happens tonight is insignificant."

Before you could falter, you turned away and made your way to the bedroom where the en suite was located. Your skin burned at the implication of your words, at the possibility that he might ignore you and leave you feeling empty and alone in the harsh light of the morning after.

With each step, you braced yourself for rejection, for the inevitable fallout that awaited. But as you reached the door of the bathroom, a sliver of hope flickered within you—a small glimmer of possibility that perhaps, just perhaps, the barriers between you could be broken down, if only for a fleeting moment in time.

Stepping into the shower, the hot water cascaded down on you, enveloping your naked skin in a welcomed embrace. With each drop, the dirt and grime of the wasteland melted away, leaving you feeling refreshed and renewed. Lost in the bliss of the water, you didn't hear the door slide open behind you until the Ghoul's deep voice cut through the steam.

"You missed a spot," he remarked, and you jumped, turning to face him with your arms instinctively crossing over your chest. Your heart raced as his darkened eyes roamed your body, their intensity sending a flush of heat rushing to your cheeks.

"Think you can get it, Cooper?" you asked after a pause, the challenge evident in your tone as you dared him to come closer, to see just how far he was willing to go now that he had stepped foot in the bathroom and laid eyes on your naked form. He shifted, making to step into the shower, but you stopped him with a hand pressed against his clothed chest.

"You're still dressed," you pointed out, a hint of amusement dancing in your eyes as you gestured to his attire. His bandolier and hat lay discarded on the countertop behind him, both guns resting in their respective holsters beside your own.

With a resigned sigh, he shrugged out of his heavy duster and let it fall to the ground, the weight of his armour leaving him feeling exposed and vulnerable. But before he could make another move, you stopped him once more, your hand halting his progress as you met his gaze with determination.

"The clothes ain't coming off," he muttered, his tone gruff with a hint of defiance. "Take it or leave it."

For a moment, you hesitated, weighing your options as you stared into his eyes, searching for any sign of vulnerability beneath the hardened exterior. And then, with a silent nod of understanding, you stepped aside, allowing him to join you beneath the comforting spray of the shower, the barriers between you slowly beginning to crumble in the warmth of the water. 

His frame took up the rest of the space, looming over you as you dropped your arm from your chest, exposing yourself to him fully. With a sharp intake of breath, he devoured you with his gaze, his eyes darkening with a mix of hunger and hesitation. The steam swirled around you both, creating a cocoon of intimacy that felt separate from the harsh realities outside.

You reached for his gloved hand, your fingers trembling slightly as you lifted it and guided it to your breast. The sensation of the rough leather against your skin sent a shiver through you, your eyes never leaving his as you encouraged him to touch you.

For a moment, he remained still, his eyes searching yours as if seeking permission one last time. Then, with a slow exhale, he closed his hand around your breast, the pressure firm but careful, as if afraid to break the fragile connection forming between you.

His thumb brushed over your nipple, the leather cool and abrasive against your sensitive skin. A gasp escaped your lips, your body arching into his touch as desire flared within you. His eyes, still locked on yours, softened with a mix of awe and uncertainty, the vulnerability beneath his hardened exterior laid bare in the steamy haze of the shower.

You wondered if, during the centuries he had roamed the wasteland, he had ever experienced this intimacy. Had he taken a lover? Had he sought solace in another's arms, despite the shame that made him hesitant to do so? You wondered if he had felt the soft, smooth skin of a woman since being transformed into this stoic, dangerous mutation, and it made you determined to give him the comfort you felt he so desperately needed.

Emboldened by his touch, you leaned closer, pressing your body against his clothed form, feeling the heat radiating from him even through the layers of damp fabric. Your hands moved to his shoulders, sliding down his arms as you whispered, "You won't break me."

He paused, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "What if I want to?" he asked, his voice low and searching. His gaze bore into yours, seeking an answer.

His words hung in the air, heavy with unspoken longing and raw vulnerability. This was as open and honest as he had ever been with you, his desires laid bare for the first time. You could see the conflict in his gaze, the struggle between the hardened exterior he presented to the world and the tender emotions he kept hidden away.

"Go ahead," you said softly, your voice trembling with anticipation and the weight of your own feelings. You pressed a hand against the hardness of his clothed cock, squeezed gently as if urging him on.

His breath hitched, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away. But then he leaned in, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was both delicate and demanding. His hands moved over your body, exploring and caressing with a reverence that took your breath away.

Suddenly, you were pushed backwards against the cold tiles of the shower cubicle, his body consumed you as his lips left yours to nip and suck at your neck before moving fervently down to your breasts. You gasped when his teeth grazed your nipple, your hands resting on his shoulders, holding him closer to you. His own hands clawed at your thighs, lifting one leg to rest on his hip as you reached for his belt buckle. He gritted his teeth, anticipating your touch. You undid it slowly, your hand grazing his clothed abdomen before sliding down to squeeze his cock.

"Fuck," he muttered against your skin, his voice thick with desire. You could feel his hardness pulsing against your palm, its size and thickness surprising you, sending a surge of excitement to your core. His textured skin pressed against yours, igniting a shiver of anticipation at the thought of him inside you. With a tentative thrust, he tested your grasp, letting out a guttural moan when you responded with a tug.

You guided his cock to your entrance, teasingly tracing the tip along your slick folds. The air crackled between you, every touch, every movement igniting the tension. He claimed your lips in a fierce kiss, teeth clashing as he effortlessly lifted you with practiced skill. Legs wrapped around his waist, you held onto him tightly as he pushed into you. You felt overwhelmed you as your walls stretched to accommodate him, a fiery sensation coursing through you as he filled you completely.

For a moment, you both stilled in the intensity of the connection, breathlessly panting in the humid air. Then, with a slow, deliberate rhythm, he began to move, his thrusts deep and forceful, each one igniting waves of pleasure that surged through you.

His gloved hands kneaded and squeezed at the soft flesh of your behind, his head dropped into the crook of your neck again as his licked and sucked the skin raw. Your fingers slid between your bodies, tugged at the buttons of his wet shirt in a vain attempt to feel him against you. He grunted, pulled back from your neck with a scolding look as he slapped your hand away.

"I just want to feel you, Coop," you told him, voice tainted with a whine.

"You're feeling me just fine," he said, his voice low, as he thrust his hips deeply, pushing his cock further inside you. Tears welled in your eyes from the stretch, and you leaned your head back against the tiles while he smirked. "Just fine."

You yielded, deciding that if this was how he chose to give himself to you, then you'd accept it willingly.

He took your silence as obedience, thrusting into you forcefully, driving his cock to the hilt over and over. You moaned as your body responded, clenching around him, your eyes squeezed shut. With a smirk, he pulled back slightly, his gaze fixated on the point where your bodies joined, observing intently as he continued to pound into you with a steady, unyielding pace.

A gasp escaped your lips as his hand slid between you, his fingers encased in leather, pinching your clit with a pleasurable pain that sent waves of sensation through your body. The coil of tension inside you tightened, your muscles yearning for release as he expertly flicked and rubbed at the sensitive bud.

Your nails dug into his shoulder, leaving marks on the leather vest as you thrashed against him. His eyes, now dark pools of desire, remained fixed on your hungry cunt enveloping him as you matched his relentless rhythm. With each bounce, your bodies collided, igniting a primal passion between you and driving you both towards the brink of ecstasy.

Your orgasm ripped through you with a cry of his name, intense and all consuming, stealing your breath as your muscles clenched around him and your juices flowed over his throbbing shaft. 

His fingers continued their assault on your sensitive clit, relentless in their pursuit of your pleasure. He fucked into you mercilessly, seeing you through to the end of your release before focusing on his own. His primal grunts filled the air as his hips faltered, and you seized him in a bruising kiss, your hand wet against his warm cheek, sucking at his tongue with desperate need to convey your bliss.

You felt him begin to pull away, and in a panic you tightened the hold you had around him, your legs locking almost painfully around his waist as he tore his lips from yours.

"I can't," he panted, desperately trying to pry you from him as he stopped his movements, but you grinded down onto him, imploring him to continue with a moan. "Fuck, don't make me."

A second passed and then as if succumbing to a battle of his own will, his hips resumed their  painful snapping motion, driving his cock deep inside you with a frantic pace. Then, they faltered, stuttering, and he pinned you hard against the tiles as he came inside your swollen cunt with an animalistic growl.

With his face buried in your neck, you held him close, your hands gently stroking his back, as the last spasms of his release faded. His warm load filled you completely, trailing down the inside of your thigh.

The small space fell back into silence, void of the rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin, now filled only with the heavy breaths from both of you and the trickling of the water that had long since chilled and ceased to flow. His hands moved to your thighs, roughly prying your legs from around him and lowering you back to the floor with a finality. His softening cock slipped out of you, leaving you empty and sore, eager to feel it again.

He avoided your gaze, busying himself with tucking himself back into his pants and adjusting the damp fabric before turning to leave the cubicle. You reached out, attempting to hold him back by grasping his bicep, but his eyes remained fixed on the wall ahead.

"Wasn't so bad, was it?" you asked, trying to inject a hint of levity into the heavy atmosphere, but he only grunted in response, pulling his arm away from your grip.

"Get some sleep, we leave at first light," he ordered, swiftly gathering his discarded belongings before exiting the bathroom.

A chill settled over you as you tried to steady your shaky breath. Wrapping yourself in a towel, you walked into the bedroom, feeling a mix of disappointment and resignation when you saw the Ghoul had retreated to the living room. Damp and regretful, he had chosen the dusty couch over spending the night with you.

With a sigh, you approached the bed and picked up the bottle left for you on the spread. The red and yellow capsules clinked against the rust-coloured glass, the chemical smell of the Rad-x filling the air as you unscrewed the lid. It was naïve to expect anything more than an awkward departure after what had happened between you, yet you couldn't shake the heavy pit of defeat that settled in your stomach, despite your earlier promise to him.

What happens tonight is insignificant.

[cryptid-ghoulette]

Day two - hiding an illness/injury

Its copias turn to suffer this time.

Big thanks to @cirrus-ghoulette for organizing whumpmonth!

(Written entirely for @sister-nyx who is the best)

Contains - fainting, descriptions of depression both mental and physical.

WC - 745

It was no secret that Copia was a man of a nervous disposition, his brain always working a million miles an hour, desperate to prove himself worthy of the title he had been bestowed. Burning the candle at both ends seemed to be the only way he knew how to live; the idea of letting anyone down was too much for him to possibly even entertain.

His heart was soft, and his mind could be so cruel to him, whispering poisonous thoughts in the quiet moments. It didn’t matter if he knew they weren’t true; he could only fight his own mind for so long until he was too tired, his heart bruised, and his nerves frayed.

But the world doesn’t stop for one broken-feeling man. There were tasks to complete. A role to fill. Ghouls and siblings alike to tend to. So, he painted the black around his eyes as usual each morning, thankful for the easy way to hide the increasing dark circles, and donned his flowing robes to cover the bruises spreading across his limbs like watercolour paint splatters

He busied himself, cooped up in his office, the cramped space feeling more and more like a tomb as the days crept into weeks. He silently haunted the hallways between meetings, avoiding the lingering and concerned gazes of his ghouls. They all tried to reach out, letting him know they were worried and wanting to pull him back from wherever his mind had trapped him. But their pleas fell on deaf ears; he only ever assured them he was fine and they needn’t worry about him.

It was mid-afternoon when the sudden buzz of his phone against the wood of his desk startled him awake. The lack of sleep was catching up to him, and the small screen light made his eyes squint in discomfort. A message from Mountain—a shaking hand desperately reaching across the seemingly endless chasm separating them.

“You should come to the greenhouse; some fresh air and a warm cup of tea would do you well, my friend.”

He felt something akin to hope trying to break through the suffocating darkness, a small warmth nestled in the depths of his heart. He followed that warmth all the way to its source, leaving his office for the first time in several days. The cool breeze outside seemed to nudge his tired body across the courtyard to where Mountain was waiting for him.

Mountain’s stomach dropped when he finally got a good look at the man he knew so well standing in his doorway. Dark shadows clung to the hollows of his cheeks, and despite his best efforts, the paint around his eyes couldn’t hide the bone-deep exhaustion or how his lip began to quiver at the gentle touch of a hand on his shoulder.

The lump in Copia’s throat grew, the pit in his stomach threatened to swallow him whole as everything around him started to spin, his vision blurring before his knees gave out, his body going limp, collapsing to the dirt-covered floor with a dull thud. Mountain rushed over, lifting him onto his lap, his shaking hands hovering over the fragile body, unsure where to place them. So quiet. So still. He felt sick.

Mountain stayed on the ground, not knowing how much time had passed, cradling the smaller man, stroking his hairline with such reverence, whispering pleas to whoever was listening. Mismatched eyes eventually fluttered open and met his emerald ones, mountain leaned down, quivering lips pressing against a sweat-soaked forehead.

“You know you’re not alone,” his voice was small, barely above a whisper. Copia’s head was fuzzy, his vision still not in focus, not entirely sure what happened but mountains voice was comforting, his large hands wrapping around his own.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he felt like he’d swallowed cotton wool, mouth dry and his tongue foreign feeling. Copia swallowed hard, fighting the dryness in his throat, managing to croak out a barely audible “mi dispiace, petalo” before letting out a pained sob, curling into himself, letting mountain wrap his arms around him, his mind the quietest it has been in weeks.

Mount knew a conversation would need to be had, things would need to be said that no one wanted to give a voice to, but that didn’t matter right now. For now, copia was content to finally fall apart, knowing mountain would be there to put him back together with gentle hands.

[v-ternus]

MUSHY MAY TIME WHOOP WHOOP

Stellar prompts form @forlorn-crows. I cant wait to write about more of them.

im so excited. i havent written in a good, long sec

Day 1-- Cuteness Aggression

MountainDew baby... 700 words of MountainDew below the cut :))))

Mountain hates chores. He’ll never admit it to any of the other ghouls, forever wanting to keep up the image of the oh so serious ghoul. But he loathes the days full of work that isn't in the greenhouse. Today is different though. He’s at the sink washing the dishes from lunch when a certain fun sized ghoul jumps on his back. He’s more than happy to drop the plate and sponge in his hand. 

“What the fu–” He yelps, caught off guard by the weight of Dew knocking his hips into the marble counter. 

“Hi big boy” His voice is gravely, dripping of the sleep that made him miss both breakfast and lunch. He wiggles his grip, wrapping his legs around Mountain’s slight waist and holding himself up by his arms snug around broad shoulders. Their size difference is already so noticeable–during bows on stage, band photo ops, and especially during the late nights they spend wrapped up in each other, not knowing where one ends and the other begins. They both love it, even though it used to get under Dew’s skin to the point of self-hatred. 

In the pit, being small meant being a target. Combine that with being a water ghoul, it was a recipe for disaster. But up here, on Earth with a human vessel he’s found a home in, he doesn't worry so much. Especially with the way Mountain looks at him, the way he always indulges in their glaring difference in stature. 

“To what do I owe the pleasure, little spider monkey?” Mountain says as he takes off his wet gloves, turning his head back, angling for a kiss that Dew meets him with. It's slow, easy, and exactly what he needs to take his mind off of the mile long list of chores left for him to handle. But as nice as it is, it's an uncomfortable angle. He reaches his hands back to try and move Dew but is met by a low growl, playful, non-threatening. It makes him laugh, a soft chuckle against even softer lips.

Mountain really starts to wonder what’s going on. And almost like he was reading his mind, Dew answers his unspoken question. 

“Nothing’s up Mount, you’re just–” His words, cut off by him nuzzling into his soft curls and the top of Mountain’s neck, are punctuated with a tight squeeze from his lithe limbs. It’s not like he’s a boa constrictor, but Mountain would be lying if he said it didn't wring out a little more air that he’d like. As rare as Dew is calm, it's even rarer that he’s clingy like this. He’ll press himself up to the curve of Mountain’s back when they sleep, tangle their limbs up, but rarely like this. Unprompted. 

“Need you to finish your sentence there Dewy” Dew huffs, warm breath ghosting over the forming goose bumps along Mountain’s neck. 

“Wanna stay here” His grip gets tighter and it makes Mountain feel warm. “Too cute”

“Are you having that puppy thing with me Dew?” Dew hums, confused.

“That thing… when you see a puppy or a kitten or whatever, and it’s so cute that you wanna squeeze it. Bite it. The youth these days call it ‘cuteness aggression’”

Dew’s lips turn up into the cheesiest grin, human brain shutting off once his hellbeast mind hears ‘bite’. He mumbles a quick maybe and brings his mouth back to Mountain’s neck. This time, finding some flesh to hold between his teeth. Not enough pressure to pierce his skin or hurt, just to hold. Mountain’s stomach swoops with every gentle shift of Dew’s jaw. It's nice he thinks, especially nicer than doing chores too.  The little ghoul continues his onslaught, picking new spots and alternating between biting and worrying sun-kissed skin. Mountain gets lost in the tight feeling around his torso and the soft nibbles around his neck. So lost, that he almost forgets he’s standing. His balance shifts and it's the shortest millisecond but it's enough to shake Dew. He squeezes tighter, whining right in Mountain’s ear. Don't drop us, don't fall with me still on your damn back. He leans forward and mumbles an apology before anchoring his arms under Dew's legs.

He’ll feel this in the morning, the strain in his already bad back. He’ll whine about the ache, but Dew will be there to fix him. That’s a problem for tomorrow’s Mountain. For now, he’ll let himself be squeezed and nibbled on until Dew gets his fill.

[one-winged-dreams]

Guatemala Antigua

ship: angel delores x renji yomo, angel delores & ken kaneki source: tokyo ghoul word count: 2435

OH MY GOD THIS TURNED OUT SO FUCKING LONG AND FOR WHAT. this is like 80 percent angel yapping at kaneki while yomo watches him try to process it. just a little something i like to imagine would be fun character development if it were actually in the series. anyway, i'm already jumping into an established relationship for this ship with him, or at least for this fic anyway.

absolutely none of you are required to read/rb this if you don't want to because it's long as fuck and ik it's difficult for y'all to keep up with the stuff i'm into.

tag list: @dearly-beeloved @gymleaderkylar @adoredbyalatus @dorothys-wife @the-sleeping-city

@dear-gambler @goldenworldsabound @mahitosoulmate @sunstar-of-the-north

@faerie-circle-ships @heatobrienswife @tireddovahkiin

At an odd request from the manager, Kaneki had been instructed to deliver… something. Something to Angel’s apartment. He had been given the address and was confident he was in the right place. The directions were clear, they couldn't have been wrong.

He didn't know Angel all that well, he realized. He wasn't sure what to expect from showing up at his place of residence. He didn't speak much and was a bit odd and gloomy, but he wasn’t mean or anything at the very least.

Apprehensively, Kaneki rang the doorbell, and, after a while, he heard footsteps approach.

The last thing he expected was for Yomo to open the door, looking as stone-faced as ever.

"M-Mister Yomo?" he stammered, his thoughts going a mile a minute. Did he have the wrong place?

Yomo looked down at the package in Kaneki's hands, noting Angel’s last name written across the box in the manager’s handwriting, and then turned his head.

"Angel, it's for you," he called out with little to no fanfare.

"I'll be right there!" came a familiar voice from inside the apartment, sounding more at ease and carefree than it ever did at the cafe.

Yomo's eyes went to Kaneki again, and he stepped to the side to let him in.

"You can wait in the living room," he said, closing the door once Kaneki had gone further in.

Kaneki felt like his grip on reality was loosening. What was happening? 

Even as he sat on the couch, numbly placing the package on the coffee table, the situation refused to sink in. His gaze flitted about the, admittedly, very cozy apartment. His thoughts that Yomo might just be visiting were dashed, the equal amount of Yomo and Angel’s personal effects blended into a picture that could only be described as domestic. 

Before he could try and wrap his head around it, Angel emerged from the bathroom, toweling off his wet hair. His attire was a stark contrast to the Anteiku uniforms, and even more so to the goth or metal (frankly, Kaneki could never tell the difference) style he had seen Angel in off the clock. In the comfort of his own home, apparently a tank top (Angel never showed much skin at all) and some white and blue Sanrio character pajama bottoms (Kaneki had never seen him in anything that wasn’t black or white) was the dress code.

Angel froze as his eyes landed on the visitor, eyebrows raising.

"Kaneki..." he said softly, realizing he was being seen out of his element. He blushed a bit out of embarrassment, clearing his throat. "Was there... something you needed?"

Kaneki numbly blinked, not sure what to say for a moment before he remembered why he was there in the first place.

"Uhm," he said, pointing to the package. "I was told to bring… It’s your…" he stumbled over his words. 

“For me?" Angel asked, his brow creasing in confusion. He went over to pick the package up, inspecting it.

"Renji, was I expecting something?" he asked Yomo, casually referring to him by his first name. 

Yomo opening the door, Angel calling him by his first name... the pieces were starting to fall into place.

Yomo leaned against the wall, equally as casual and at ease. His eyes were locked on Kaneki, studying him to see if he had figured it out yet, shrugging at Angel’s question.

"Beats me," he said. "But it has your name on it."

Kaneki was still processing the situation. The way Angel casually called Yomo by his first name, the two of them speaking to each other so casually, all of it pointed to one thing.

He swallowed. He couldn't be wrong, right?

"Oh! My favorite Arabica coffee beans!" Angel said, suddenly seeming to remember what was in the package. He looked at Kaneki with a soft smile, so different than the miserable-looking expression he usually wore. "Thank you, Kaneki. Since you came all this way would you like to try some?"

"Uh- sure!" Kaneki replied, his thoughts still going a mile a minute. This all felt so surreal, just when he thought he was regaining his footing, that smile threw him off.

"I'll go put some on, then. Renji, do you want any?" Angel asked, looking at Yomo with domestic fondness.

"Yeah, I'll have some," Renji answered casually, though he was now watching Kaneki's expressions intently. 

Angel nodded, not seeming to notice as he retreated into the kitchen, leaving Yomo and Kaneki alone.

Silence hung in the air for a few moments, save for the sound of coffee beans being ground down in the kitchen, before Yomo spoke.

"You look like your brain's going to explode," he said, his tone almost playful.

Kaneki gawked at him, eyes wide before reigning in his expression.

“You and… And Angel?” he stammered. “You’re…?”

Retaining his usual aloof expression, though now tinted with a hint of mirth, Yomo let out an amused breath through his nose. 

“What do you think?”

It was like every little context clue became obvious, the things Kaneki never noticed about the two of them suddenly becoming clear as day. In no way was it blatantly obvious, both Yomo and Angel were too reserved to appear as a conventional couple to the untrained eye. But the way they communicated so cohesively, seeming to read each other’s thoughts half the time… And of course, the glances that they’d give each other that lingered a bit longer than that of just coworkers. 

Yomo's smirk grew a bit, though he still kept a neutral expression as he seemed to read Kaneki’s thoughts.

"You never even thought about it, did you?" He asked, his tone a tinge more teasing.

He had indeed NOT thought about it, Kaneki realized. The thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. It was like everything was falling even more into place in real-time, Yomo and Angel walking in the same direction whenever Yomo dropped by when it was time to head home, vague recollections of Koma or Irimi saying things like “I’ll have to ask Delores and Yomo,” emphasis now on the ‘and’ part of that statement…

“No… I hadn’t…” Kaneki mumbled sheepishly.’

“You’re usually pretty observant.” Yomo was definitely teasing now.

It was now that Angel returned from the kitchen, precariously but expertly holding three cups of coffee.

“All done,” he announced himself, making his way over to Yomo and handing him a mug with a soft smile.

Yomo responded with a soft smile of his own, taking the mug and leaning down to give Angel a quick thank-you kiss, only further blowing Kaneki’s mind.

The display of impossible expressions continued as Angel’s already sweet smile softened into something that was probably mostly seen in couples who were extremely close before he turned to Kaneki and handed him his mug.

“There you go. Are you a fan of Guatemalan coffee, Kaneki?” Angel asked warmly. 

“Uhm.” Kaneki’s gaze shifted from person to person. “Is there anything special about the type you ordered?”

To his curiosity, Yomo shook his head with a fond sigh.

“It’s my favorite Guatemala Antigua brand,” Angel began, his eyes sparkling before he launched into a full dissertation on what exactly WAS so special about these beans… At least to him anyway.

By the time he was done, all Kaneki could say was. “Uh, wow…!”

Angel smiled at him, once again performing the impossible. His smiles were small and gentle, and very warm. 

"It's been a long time since I've had it, Renji managed to find my favorite supplier online," Angel hummed, looking down into his cup and taking a sip, his expression content. "Yep... Just as good."

The warmth and gentleness radiating off of him was mind-blowing, Kaneki could only marvel at the contrast to the depressing, gloomy aura that hung over Angel like a constant shroud.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Angel, who casually took a seat and smiled down into his coffee sheepishly. 

"I know I'm a lot different outside of my own home... To tell you the truth, it's hard for me to be at ease around people. Working at Anteiku makes things a bit difficult, but I enjoy working there regardless."

Kaneki looked up from his coffee again, a mixture of stunned and contemplative.

It was difficult for Angel to be at ease around people? That explained why he often came across as distant and gloomy, even outside of work. It was nice to know there was a reason for it, that he wasn't just being rude for the sake of it.

Yomo, who had been quietly listening, nodded in agreement.

"He's a little skittish, like a stray cat," he added, his tone neutral, though there was a hint of teasing.

This brought a pout to Angel’s face, his brow furrowing.

“Renji…”

Yomo just gave him a subtle flash of a smile, which then disappeared from view as it was eclipsed by a coffee mug.

Angel sighed, before smiling and shaking his head, then turning to Kaneki.

"Thank you for making the delivery, Kaneki. Did the manager pay you anything for coming out all this way?"

Kaneki, briefly thrown off by Yomo’s smile, snapped back to awareness.

“Ah, no, he didn’t…! It’s alright though, it was no trouble!”

Angel hummed thoughtfully. 

"I see. Well if you liked the coffee, I can send you home with some of the beans. As a thank you, I mean."

Kaneki paused, a bit thrown off.

“R-Really? That’s… kind of you.”

Angel blinked a few times, his expression one of mild intrigue.

“Do I seem mean to you, usually?”

Kaneki's eyes widened again and he quickly shook his head, waving his hands in front of him. 

"No, no, not at all! It's just-" he started, then paused. How could he put this delicately? He didn't want to hurt Angel’s feelings but… "You... just come off as a little... closed off, sometimes," he explained cautiously, his eyes darting everywhere but the two of them, for fear of accidentally saying something offensive.

Angel once again blinked at him for a moment, before looking down at his coffee.

"I see... I was afraid you'd think that," he sighed, before smiling at Kaneki awkwardly. "You're the one I know the least, so it's no wonder you would assume such a thing. Everyone else at Anteiku has gotten to know me, but I guess I never went out of my way to get to know YOU. I'm sorry,” he said genuinely.

"No, it's not your fault-" Kaneki protested. "I... I should have tried talking to you more too," he admitted, feeling a bit guilty now.

Angel chuckled softly, a warm, gentle sound that matched his smile.

"No no. I can imagine it'd be difficult to initiate with someone who looks like me." He considered his appearance; dark, gloomy, the long black hair that often hung around his face. He hummed thoughtfully. "People say I look like..." he trailed off before looking at Yomo. "Renji, what did Touka compare me to?"

Yomo didn't even need to think for a second before replying. 

"Sadako."

Angel nodded, chuckling.

“That was it. She said I’m like Sadako.”

Yomo took another sip of his coffee before speaking, a smirk on his face. 

"Touka wasn't the only one who thought that, by the way," he added, his tone still a tinge amused.

At this, Angel furrowed his eyebrows again, that pout returning.

“Who else?”

“Koma, Nishio… Even Uta agrees,” Yomo listed off.

"Seriously?" Angel asked, suddenly poutier. "Uta did all my piercings and tattoos, he's a direct contributor to my appearance." His nose scrunched up. "I should have assumed Nishio, but Koma too?"

“Yep, all of them said it,” Yomo responded with faux seriousness, nodding sagely.

"A-Anyway," Angel stammered, pushing some hair aside and looking at Kaneki. "For this particular coffee. You want to brew it at a very specific temperature or it'll taste way too tanic," he explained before going into ANOTHER dissertation on how to properly brew whatever the hell kind of super special coffee this was. 

Eventually, Kaneki found himself at the threshold of the apartment, Yomo and Angel having seen him out.

“Let me know if you have any more questions about the brewing process,” Angel offered warmly, Yomo’s arm wrapped casually around his shoulders in a domestic display.

“I will,” Kaneki assured with a nod and a smile. He found himself oddly reluctant to leave. He couldn’t believe it, but he had enjoyed his time just leisurely hanging out with Angel and Yomo of all people. But it was getting late, and he offered them both a wave and a goodbye before taking his leave.

Once the door closed, Yomo sighed, immediately wrapping his arms around Angel’s waist and resting his chin on his head as he pulled him into his chest.

“He’s a good kid,” Angel hummed, closing his eyes and enjoying the feeling of Yomo’s warm embrace.

“Mhm,” was all Yomo said as he buried his face in Angel’s hair. It’s not that he hadn’t wanted Kaneki in his home, but he was grateful that it was just the two of them again.

“Do you want to do anything now, or just go to bed?” Angel asked, returning the embrace.

Yomo let out a thoughtful breath.

“You’ve got an early shift tomorrow, let’s settle in for the night.”

“That’s a good point. Shall we?” 

Yomo released Angel, taking his hand and leading him off towards the bedroom. 

Upon arrival, Yomo took a seat on the bed, pulling Angel forward to stand in front of him, his hands lingering on his hips.

“What? What’s this?” Angel asked, smiling affectionately and placing his hands on Yomo’s shoulders. 

Yomo rested his chin on Angel’s midsection, looking up at him with no particular expression.

“You were cute today,” he said with a tone to match his expression."The way you talked about the whole coffee brewing process with Kaneki. You were animated."

Angel blushed, turning his head away.

"I- I get carried away sometimes, you know," he stammered, embarrassed.

Yomo chuckled, his hands affectionately rubbing up and down Angel’s sides. “I know. It’s cute.”

Angel blushed a bit more before suddenly pushing forward, lightly tackling Yomo back onto the bed. Yomo took the motion in stride, adjusting himself so that they were both properly lying on the bed. 

As Angel propped his chin on Yomo’s chest, he smiled. 

“I love you.”

Yomo hummed contentedly, brushing some hair out of Angel’s face.

“Love you too.”

Angel leaned forward to give Yomo a short kiss.

“You were right about that early shift, let’s get to bed.”

“Let’s.”

[tg-pilled]

Inspired by moot @backgroundcharacterno15

Tokyo Ghoul characters as embarrassing things I have done or that have happened to me!

Shirazu - Walked through the library near a large group of students and let out an explosive fart that was SUPER loud and EVERYONE turned to look at me so I blamed it on my boots

Saiko - Wore pants that were too small and my shoelaces got tangled in the hooks of my boots and I tripped and fell and pantsed myself on accident in the middle of a crowded walkway at school

Amon - Dislocated my arm while swimming but continued swimming because whenever people talked about "FEEL THE BURN" I thought that's what they meant

Hide - Naruto ran in middle school during the mile.

Uta - Dressed up as Dan Howell during school. Cat whiskers and all. There wasn't even a school spirit day, it was just me.

Hinami - Walked into a glass door because I thought it would slide open

Tooru - Tripped and scraped my cheek open on my desk and now has a scar there (this is recent 😭)

Amon because he gives off rancid misogynist vibes idk why - Made an OC named 'Christian' who was described as a feminist but also hated when women wore shorter clothing or showed skin 😭 (these were written in the notes next to him) ((not my proudest moment, I have healed. I was deep in my afab annoying Catholic girl era who shoved religion down everyone's throats))

Tooru - The bus I was riding got into a minor accident and I was the only one on so they let me go after checking for injuries and as soon as I left I slipped on wet leaves and twisted my ankle

Rize - My really pretty and super nice neighbour got mail for a previous resident of my apartment and when she brought it over, I over explained and told her "Well she doesn't live here now but I mean I do but it's not my mail so I mean like yeah" and she just laughed and said "Yeah I know someone lives here since you're here." And then she complimented my hair and left and I have not stopped thinking about how embarrassing that was.

Renji - I got pulled over for taking a left turn in a not left turn lane

Juuzou - Got in trouble for speaking in the hallway and was absolutely HUMILIATED by the substitute we had and in my middle school if you got in trouble with a substitute you got automatic detention so I skipped school the next day so I wouldn't get detention

These are all I can think of for now. Some of these are just vibes and others are like. The character definitely did this.

[theyareweird]

Frankie Stein's Home Ick by Ms. Kindergrubber Survival Guide

Flyleaf

Frankie's comment (blue pen):

Hey everybody! If you haven't taken this class yet, I'm going to give you everything you need to know to survive Home Ick with Ms. Kindergrubber. If you follow my advice, you'll never fall apart in class.

Class Overview

Home Ick introduces students to an amazing world of practical skills and concepts that will continue to haunt them for the rest of their unlives. This class will cover but is not limited to the following subjects:

Basic potions, concoctions and mixtures

Proper use and care of cauldrons and ovens

Practical stitching and sewing techniques —Fave!

Issues and careers in Home Ick and the mad food sciences

Monster biology and food choices

Many monsters that haven't taken Home Ick believe that it is an easy class. That could not be further from the truth! Ms. Kindergrubber loves, loves, loves this subject, and she'll expect you to love it as much as she does. If you think you can just drive-through and order up an "A," you'll be in trouble, and that's why I'm here to help.

Lecture

The instructor will explain the techniques necessary to completing the student's weekly assignments.

Basically Ms. K. shows us how to do something and we're expected to do it the same way… the exact same way.

Tests

Both written and practical exams will be used as a measuring tool to assess a student's comprehension of the presented information.

Ms. K. likes to use her recipes as tests to make sure you take good notes when she gives out the recipe during lecture cause she makes you taste test everything! Spectra added too much frog hair to a recipe we were being tested on and it made her smell like burnt popcorn wrapped in spoiled cabbage.

Yuck.

Supplies

Notebook and pen

Apron —If you don't bring your own apron Ms. K. has box of loaners and they are totally nasty.

Hairnet —(There is no way to look fashionable in a hair net… I'm sorry it just cannot be done.)

Fireproof oven mitts

Thimble

Other Things You Need To Know

–On the day you make dragon butter, make sure you don't eat before you come to class. Just trust me on this.

–Prepare for broken nails, head-to-toe soot, and a week of lectures on oven safety. Oh, and don't ever ask Ms. K. to check if your oven is hot enough. Totally freaks her out for some reason.

–If you think this is just a class for the ghouls, you'd be dead wrong. Deuce was in my class, and he was a total rock star when it came to the cooking part of the class. His recipes were the only ones that Ms. K. would actually try herself. She made the rest of us try them out on each other. Deuce tried to say he just got lucky, but I don't believe it. Besides that, there are usually four times as many ghouls as guys… just saying.

–You'll get to spend a week in the creepateria helping to prepare and serve food. It's a shockingly difficult job, especially when you think about having to come up with meals that appeal to as many different monsters as possible. That's the reason all the choices are either gravy brown or slightly gray. They have a little bit of everything thrown in them, so there'll be at least one taste that's familiar to every monster. On the last day you work in the creepateria, the lurch ladies make their specialties just for the class, and they can really cook! Plus after having to ladle a mile in their hairnets makes you a lot less likely to complain about the food in the creepateria.

–Do not use Draculaura as an example of a monster that doesn't eat what they're "supposed" to. It makes Ms. K. cranky, and I think she keeps a dirty cauldron set aside just for monsters that bring this up.

–Every monster has to do a class project for the Home Ick open cottage. That's when parents and other students get to come in and check out all our mad skills. You won't be shocked to know that I chose a sewing project. I even know some knots that Ms. K. doesn't, and I got extra credit for demonstrating them to the class. You probably don't want to choose the life-size gingerbread house as your project, though, because, for some reason, Ms. K. is really, really picky about how it needs to be done.

Hope this info charges you up for the class.

Love, Frankie

Sewing 101

Dress pattern

Back Front

1. Cut out 2 in any fabric of your choice. Lay flat sew 3/8" in from edge up back seam inside out.

2. Cut out 1 in any fabric of your choice. Sew onto back piece 3/8" from edge inside out. Turn right inside out. Add snap.

Faculty

Ms. Kindergrubber began her career in the Home Ick sciences when it was just a cottage industry. Eventually though, so many students found themselves on the path to her sweet little place in the country that she found herself pushed into teaching. She has authored several cookbooks and her Black Forest cake is simply to die for. —YUMMM!!!!

You should know that Ms. K. does not see very well but she hears everything and her nose is better than Clawdeen's on a full moon.

[valerianonyx]

~~CONTEXT: some of the ghouls aren’t super close yet, even if they’ve been on stage together, sometime after Prequelle but before Imperatour starts~~

NOTES:

*I don’t follow completely canon lore if that wasn’t already clear :3

(first couple chapters are gonna be kinda bad bc I’m introducing everyone, even though I don’t think people who aren’t looking for Ghost content are gonna read this but)

(it’s also been years since I’ve written anything so bear with me, I hope you enjoy regardless)

(Tumblr asks are open if you have requests for oneshots)

Chapter 1: A Rough Start

Two of Copia’s ghouls were on their way back to the Ministry, the contents of the supply boxes in the backseat clunking against each other.

“Hey Swiss, do you mind turning it down just a little?” Rain reaches for the volume knob, but is swatted by the multi ghoul's hand. “You already had me slow down. Pick your battles.”

“Well you shouldn't be speeding when there are ice patches for our sake, but since you don't care about that, Sister wouldn't be too happy to have a vehicle, stock, and two ghouls down would she?” He drowns out the classic rock battering his myringas with a set of earplugs from his jacket.

“Do you really think I don't care about you? I'll keep us safe, I value safety more than anythi-” he brakes a bit harshly when the truck once on their left decides to switch into their lane without signal. Lucky the delivery cars had 4-wheel drive, it only slid a bit before he regained control. “Okay, okay I'm sorry Rain.” He slows down just a bit more.

Glancing quickly over to the water ghoul as he is met with silence, he notices a book in his hands as well as the earplugs. He sighs, and turns down the radio. “What did Sister even order? We've still got another hour to go until we're back home,” he bleats.

Somewhat irritatedly, the blue-eyed bookworm looks back at the unopened boxes for a moment, then clears his throat “incense, candles, herbs and spices, I can smell those, but a lot of paper this time. I believe there are supposed to be the potential new Siblings going through today which means she’s gonna be writing charts and notes, I'd guess ink as well in that case. She mentioned garden supplies too but nothing was terribly heavy in those so probably just seeds if those kinds of things were with these packages. The paper crates seemed to weigh the most so I can't imagine there was much else than that.”

“Really? Kind of unnecessary to get them from all the way out there, no? Why not the warehouse a few miles down the road?” he huffs, then pauses. Before Rain could inform him any further he interjects, “what were you reading?”

The man on his right’s eyes catch the glint of the tail lights now that they aren’t being blanketed by his lashes, “this sci-fi novel I found in the library, I just started it yesterday.”

“Is it any good? Do you read a lot?”

“Do you?”

“Not really”

He slips a bookmark into the crevice of the page, eyebrows scrunching as he squints.

“I do, to answer your question. And it’s okay. Wouldn't say it won any awards though.”

The lingering silence that chased the shot of trying to start another conversation was only interrupted with but a few choked syllables and a few commercials through the radio.

After the endless passing of forest and headlights, Rain inhales a bit louder, shakier.

“I like your playlist.”

Swiss’ face brightens up, eyebrows raising. “Why thank you.”

“Do you listen to music a lot?”

He starts to feel like he’s being watched. In the driver's peripheral vision, black curls swoosh. A hearty chuckle erupts from the multi ghoul. “What kind of question is that? We're musicians.”

The chuckle is met with playful, schoolgirl-like giggling. “Your kind of question.”

After the laughter dies down for a few minutes, Swiss briefly checks on the passenger once more. “You alright?” Rain shrinks inwardly, but straightens his back in his seat. “Yeah, I'm just not used to meeting so many people this fast. Outside of the band. Well, it took me a while to get used to that too,” he swallows. “But I'm appreciative to have spent some time one on one. I'm not good with crowds but I can do this...”

“...For now,” he mumbles into the window.

The driver mulls over his thoughts for a moment. “Me too” he starts, “you know, I think we're going to be friends, slip n’ slide.” He smiles wide.

“Not if you call me that ever again,” he punches his arm lightly.

-----THE MINISTRY-----

Humans and Ghouls alike flooded the main lobby, and a slender blonde's foot tapped rapidly as he stood outside of Sister Imperator's office.

A towering presence offers some rejected letters to tear up. The thinner ghoul belligerently shreds them. A small spark ignites, as if his skin were flint and the documents steel.

“Watch your temperature Sodo” Sister chides as she opens the door and hands the gentle giant another resume. “If you start a fire you'll be cleaning the catacombs spotless tonight, and you know how long it's been since anyone I've assigned to them actually tidied up properly” she groans, fixing her glasses.

Mountain covers the other's mouth before he can retort, earning deep, fang shaped piercings.

A woman with long, straight black hair appears with another interviewee, clipboard in hand. “Sister” she bows just slightly, “the next one is ready.” As the office door closes she waves to the wounded figure. He mouths back a “hi Cirrus” before she walks off.

The earth ghoul looks down. “Do you want a break? You seem overwhelmed, Sodo” he offers, nearly inaudibly.

He withdraws his fangs and huffs, breaths cycling shallow and quick.

The world is sideways.

“PUT ME DOWN NOW” he yelps, scooped up like a small animal. “MOUNTAIN I SWEAR TO SATANAS I WILL RIP YOU LIMB BY LIMB-” the following thud drowns out the sound of the door locking.

“MOUNTAINNN” he shrieks as he attempts to shake his vision back, standing up from the hard floor of an empty practice room, aside from the hot, orange glow now in its center. He leaps, now pounding his fists and wails into the door's window, flinching as a hand engulfs his shoulder.

“I'm right here. I have to go back to Sister until our shift ends but I can get either Aether or Sunshine to cover you. Or keep you company.”

Green eyes search the scowl. “Or I can stay if you want.”

“I don't need ANYBODY” he roars, crossing his arms tightly, Mountain's hand flinches back as the skin under it burns true red.

The negotiator sighs, then strides out of the room after unlocking it. Sodo watches him grow distant, and slides down the wall, hugging his knees.

-----BREAK ROOM-----

“You think Cumulus and Cirrus are okay out there by themselves? It was absolute hell when we were checking in and directing the humans,” a copper-haired ghoulette leans over a glass table to grab her coffee. Checking the label, she hands the mocha to the respondent.

“If they need anything we told them to come find us or some of the current Siblings” he smiles, then blows over the steaming cup. “They’ll come find us if they do.”

She picks up her vanilla latte, taking a sip. “I hope they do.” She studies his face.

“Is that a new septum ring?”

“Yeah, actually, does it look okay?”

“The spiral looks really cool on you, Aeth” she beams.

“Thanks, Sunny”, he shies behind his cup a little. “I wasn’t so sure about it yet.”

creaaaaak

Both of the coffee breakers look up between the door and each other before the tallest member enters quietly. The screams of the damned, or so it seemed, were sealed away as he closed it behind him. “Hey,” he utters.

Sunshine entreats first, “is everything okay Mountain?”

“Sodo is a little shaken up” he wipes the char from his hand onto his pants, “Well, fired up I suppose. He’s not doing great with all the people passing through. I was wondering if one of you could go stay with him until he calms down. I can handle both of our tasks, I just don’t want him to be alone.”

“Oh, uh, yeah I can” the quintessential ghoul prevaricates.

Sunshine and Mountain pass a glance. She tilts her head slightly, “are you sure? I can try.”

He shakes his head. “It’s just since the last tour he’s been avoiding me. I don’t know what I did to piss him off.” He sighs, “but knowing him, he’d want either Mountain or me, just because he knows us already. You’ve been kind to us all so far Sunny, don’t get me wrong, he just wouldn’t want someone he met a month ago to see him like this.”

“Oh, I see. I probably wouldn’t either if there were people I knew better around.” She sets her latte back onto the table. “How about you and Mountain go stay with him? I can go cover. Sister is a little upset about how Swiss and I left the catacombs last week, gotta make it up somehow” she sticks out and bites her tongue playfully, posing before heading to the door.

“Sunshine, are you sure?” the earth ghoul searches her demeanor.

“Yeah, I’m sure. From what Rain told me he’s been here the longest of the current lineup. He used to be a water ghoul? And you two were there for him during his transition into fire, right? I’d want you both instead of one or the other or me. It’s just sorting and shredding papers, I can handle it. I promise. Make it up to me later if you feel so inclined.” The boys find out she has dimples as he flashes a smile before exiting the room.

“She’s going to prematurely supernova if she keeps up like she is” Aether half-sighs, half-chuckles.

“She is talented, and has been very helpful, but she knows the sky’s her limit, not the whole galaxy. You worry too much.”

[adventuringblind]

Carlos Sainz Ghoulverse Headcannons

Below the cut warnings: Ghouls eat people and is the central plot point of this universe! So like... proceed with caution ig

Notes: driversname.ghoulverse and ghoulverse are the tags you can use to explore more about the drivers and how I've built this world up!

The way I've written this adds traits to each ghoul that are mildly more specific. Like Oscar's sense of smell and Max's wings. Carlos has really good hearing. He can hear for miles, has the sound of your footsteps memorized, even your breathing patterns.

I reckon he tunes in to the sound of your heart to calm himself down. It's a consistent in his life and he knows you're alive wherever you are in the paddock.

Physical features include a number of things so Ima just list some general ideas because a lot of it is up to your own imagination.

Carlos has two sets of horns: two small on the forehead that stick strait up and a second from the side. Example below with the black being the smaller and the red being the larger. (IMAGE NOT MINE)

As much as I want to give Carlos a scary tail... I actually feel like he's have a soft tail. It's almost velvety until the end where there is a really big tuft of longer hair. Carlos is a practical guy... definitely uses it to dust.

Because of his better hearing, I can picture him with longer ears. Like the points extend further and act as little sonars or something.

In terms of mating, I see Carlos being a provider through and through. Doesn't matter whether they are human or ghoul, you best believe he will take care of you.

If his mate is a human, then he regularly will give them small pieces of his horn to keep other ghouls away.

A ghoul mate will be provided for. He would want to risk you out hunting. He knows you're completely capable of getting your own food, but Carlos genuinely likes taking care of you.

Raids/testing/anything that could end in public execution has him more growly. Good luck to whoever tries to get to you because Carlos will just bite their heads off. It doesn't matter whether human or ghoul at that point because you are going to be killed either way, and he's not letting that happen!

I talk more about this in My Demons (are begging me to open up my mouth), but those overwhelming emotional periods with him would be insane. This isn't ABO, but it does have similarities around it. Like these overwhelming emotional periods aren't about sex... for most. However, Carlos in my head is the exception and deals with his emotions via sex. No, you will not be walking for days, and that's on purpose to keep you in bed with him.

(Suggestions needed because I don't wanna call this a heat/rut since it's not about sex... but my creativity is lacking here)

[sticksbatnix]

I know its super late, but on your Batman Beyond thoughts, I always wonder where all these powerful and weird looking misfit teenagers become Jokerz?

Or like does Bonk have parents, if so did they care about his death?

You make a very good point here, anon.

The show, as great as it is, fails to elaborate much on The Jokerz's past as a whole. Sure, there are tidbits here and there but more should have been added to properly explain how and why they joined The Jokerz in the first place.

Sure, make the point they were dumb teens who didn't know better, but there's more than that, there always is.

So let's explain it further by the five W’s.

Who, What, Where, When, and Why.

Who?

Who are the characters presented to us?

Ghoul, DeeDee, Chucko, Wolf, and Bonk.

And whoever other teenager dressing up is similar to either The Joker or Harley Quinn herself.

What?

What is happening to these characters and the people around them?

Simple, a group of misfit teenagers go out of their way to cause chaos and mischief wherever they go. Of course, lacking general empathy, causing property damage, and directly or indirectly murdering people whether they were innocent or not. And to be stopped by either law enforcement or by The Batman.

Where?

Gotham City, more specifically Neo-Gotham City.

The various old and decrepit buildings of what Gotham City was like before were long forgotten. Likely, used for the citizens of Gotham who couldn't afford the luxurious apartments and homes near and within Neo-Gotham.

When?

The future.

A time beyond Batman’s prime in time for a new Batman to take place. Just in time to handle the new and chaotic criminals that run or fly freely across the city. New technology, new law enforcement, new drugs, and new opportunities to cause havoc upon the citizens of the futuristic city.

Why?

Many reasons, few predictable, others reasonable, and the rest unexplainable.

Throughout the show, it's shown that various teenagers who go into a life of crime have rough backgrounds. Abusive or neglectful parents, low income, bullying, or even the corruption of authorities.

Bonk’s death, while brief, shows the cruel reality that many of these young criminal teenagers would face. Yes, they may be having fun, but over time they’ll be able to face life-threatening situations that may end their life. It could be painful, it could be painless, or it could have long-lasting effects if they survived. In Bonk’s case, he made the fatal mistake of going up against The Joker, paying dearly for it, and dying with a permanent smile on his face.

His body might as well be disposed of near or in a trashcan. I doubt DeeDee would go the extra mile to deliver his body to his parents, but if they did I can't imagine the horror his parents would have finding his corpse laid out on their front porch. Now, whether or not they cared for Bonk is unknown, but judging his brutish personality I could only speculate he cared for himself and likely hated being seen as lesser than everyone else. Especially his parents.

The other Jokerz can be speculated as well.

Ghoul came from a rich family, likely running off to live a life without rules and regulations. I've written a few scenarios about this on this blog about this. His family likely disowned him because of his involvement with The Jokerz as I never see them visit him when he's captured.

DeeDee are related to Harley Quinn, now whether they know about that is up in the air. But it's obvious they were inspired despite how much their ‘Nana Harley’ despised them for it. They seem to enjoy the limelight of joining forces to cause havoc and chaos all at once despite everyone telling them not to.

Chucko is a bully who loves inflicting misery on others. Likely joined The Jokerz to bully others without consequences and cause mass amounts of destruction. Whether or not he came from a bad family, it's clear that Chucko enjoys bullying others he sees as lesser than him.

Wolf was human before being spliced with hyena DNA and became the rabid creature we all know. It's possible that he felt a clear connection with animals, specifically dogs, rather than with his own family. Maybe he felt like being a dog/hyena made him feel more complete rather than living his life out like a human.

And we already talked about Bonk.

God knows about the other Jokerz members.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen in the next ten years for these characters and where they’ll be then.

Would they be dead? Would they get proper help and move on? Would they still be in jail? Would they change their whole gimmick and become like the villains from the past?

This reminds me, I found an artist on Devianart who specifically drew The Jokerz gang if they took part in the inspirations of past villains. Ghoul as Scarecrow, Wolf as Killer Croc, and Bonk as Bane. It's very creative and I feel like it should get more attention for how creative they all were.

Nonetheless, The Jokerz gang should be talked more about not only for their missed potential but for their capability to do so much more.

[scooby-review]

Scooby Doo Where are You? S2 E1-E4

1. Nowhere to Hyde

Nowhere to Hyde kicks off season two of Where are You? in a spectacularly mediocre way. This episode is just fine to me, it doesn’t really do much to stand out against the previous seasons episodes, likely oding to this season releasing in September of the same year the finale of season one aired. However, there are some changes to the previous season, which I'll mention as they arise. 

The episode follows the gang encountering a fabled jewel thief, The Ghost of Mr Hyde, and latter running into Dr Jeykll, where he admits to being afraid he is turning into the ghost of his father’s infamous dark reflection. 

The first big change for the series is the different background style. Part of what gave the first season its charm and gothic aesthetic were the gorgeous backgrounds by Walt Peregoy, who defined what the show looked and felt like. Strangely, it’s difficult to find too much information about the artworks, but I believe he painted all the first seasons, and then this season had other background artists painting them. Stylistically, they are a more blatant acrylic style, with some locations harkening back to the originals more than others. Ultimately, these paintings are still great, even if it took me a while to adjust to the change. Within this episode I especially love the crypt-like laboratory, which odes to the gothic aesthetics of Frankenstein and of course, Dr Jeykll and Mr Hyde. 

This season also sees the introduction of new writers, with a trio taking on the reigns to write the batch of eight episodes. I’m still unsure how I feel about this writing style, which is incredibly close to the original. I think as far as the stories go, they are far tighter, again similarly written, almost exactly so, but you can tell the differences in how they write, such as the frequent use of locations like the malt shop and beach as ways of initiating the mysteries and framing the episodes. I think the mysteries are mostly better written here, at least when I watched this one I wrote it as being more of a fluid story! However, I prefer season one by a mile, mostly coming down to how bland a lot of these characters and locations feel. I’ll elaborate on those throughout the season, but I found myself somewhat bored while watching a handful of these episodes, and so I wonder if the writing is better or more streamlined? When researching other people’s thoughts I saw a lot of people saying they preferred season one, but two did have a lot of defenders! In fact, people were pretty split on the topic! One of the main reasons people love season two however, are the chases, which I’ll expand on soon. 

I would also say that the animation changes a bit here, or at least I noticed the animation looking different. Hanna Barbera cartoons look cheap, they feel cheap, yet they also harness this excellently. There’s a certain charm to it when watching back much after it was released, everything about this season especially feels of the time, for better or worse, but I find the animation has taken a step up in how fluid it is! I think it looks worse. I love this cheap looking style, it’s so fun to see how even on such a small budget, the animations can be made, they can be fun to look at and love and labour was poured into these! But this upgrade comes without a lot of necessities to back it up, therefore, characters moving more isn’t always a positive thing, it simply makes the animation stand out more, causing the characters to go off model even more. It’s whatever, but it’s worth pointing out. 

But all that can be said about the entire season, this episode itself is entirely just fine. 

The villain’s design is kind of whatever to me; creating a good looking Mr. Hyde is something rarely done well I feel. The entire basis of his character is being human evil, this suppressed piece of ourselves we hide from the world, however, this guy is just a green ghoul. To be fair, I do like that he is the ghost of Mr. Hyde, like the actual character, with the culprit being the son of Dr. Jekyll, also called Dr Jeykll. It’s funny! And it’s the only part of this entirely boring design that I enjoy. Returning to the writing quickly, this is maybe the best mystery of the season, with the writers framing Helga, the maid, as being the villain, constantly setting up clues alluding to her, subverting your expectations! It’s great and makes the episode more enjoyable to watch. 

Plus, I like Shaggy in this one. In the opening we see him about to eat his food, before Scooby steals it, where he grows furious, before melting and hugging Scooby happily. It’s the best encapsulation of their relationship in this iteration. When I was younger, I used to think Shaggy could be overly mean to Scooby here, but looking at it in a vacuum, their relationship is instead just slightly different, he isn’t mean or malicious, just less willing to accept all his antics. I like it!

Of course, this all leads to what season two is best known for: their chase scenes. Backed to bubblegum pop inspired by the British Invasion, in seven of the eight episodes we see the gang chased by the villains, wacky hijinks ensue. Consistently, these are the best parts of the episode, it makes them come to life in such a great way! Although these would only later return many, many series down the line, I do love them! Their purpose was likely just to sell an album of bubblegum pop - hell, The Archie’s were only a band to make money for the studios, and most bubblegum pop is corporately churned out behind animated faces or characters to sell to early teens. However, it’s fun, and I like it a lot! 

Overall, just a whatever episode! It’s not bad, but it’s forgettable and weak against some of the episodes of last season that were poorly written and kind of wonky! But as is, it’s okay!

2. Mystery Mask Mix-Up

I didn’t want to include everything in the previous episode, but I am going to start this one negatively again. God, the intro to this one sucks. Not the cover of the theme song, that’s all good! But the way it’s edited is awful. Like it’s really bad. 

Rather than cut a new intro, they edit the previous one, which makes sense! However, they include the old intro’s skeleton, throwing still images of the new villains over the old one’s. No joke, there’s a point where Scooby runs into Charlie the Robot, the original intro then pans up to his face. Here, he runs into Charlie’s legs, the camera starts panning up, and instead there’s a still image of the Hawiian Medicine Man. Like, it’s awful man. Sometimes it works fine, but other times it’s egregiously bad, only harbouring a little charm as a result of this! As a child it used to creep me out whenever this one came on, it just felt wrong and off somehow. 

Unfortunately, this episode doesn’t win me over too much either! I think I prefer the previous episode. 

This episode follows the gang buying a mask in Chinatown, only to learn it’s supposedly haunted, with Daphne subsequently kidnapped by The Scare Pair. 

Just reading that the characters enter Chinatown in an episode aired in the 70s should be enough to tell you what happens. It’s impossible to return to the mindset of the children watching these, unaware of the way the material is depicting people! I never try to return to these periods of time to understand what it would have been like to watch, because I’m sitting, streaming this on my laptop at midnight in 2024. Without having been there, I cannot return to this place, and honestly, that’s a good thing! This episode made me uncomfortable, it simply made viewing what would have otherwise been a fun episode frustrating! We see this a lot throughout the series, especially with Native American characters, and trying to remove the knowledge that this is poor is simply irresponsible and not how I enjoy watching art! It’s there, and sometimes it’s still entirely possible to enjoy something despite its themes and characters reflecting poorly, however, in this case, very little was left for me to enjoy regardless! 

While I do enjoy the setting, I’m very lukewarm on the villains, The Scare Pair are the more interesting of the two, their designs a simplistic black robe with a white mask, but the simplicity works for them; they act like many other silent, hulking villains, although these ones in particular are down to murder, which is always fun the rare time it’s done! They are completely fine, I don't feel too positive or negative about them!

I feel similarly about their leader, The Ghost of Zen Tuo, who receives far less screen time than the others. His white and lime green robe is striking against both the scare pair and his own golden mask, an intricate design that automatically signals his place in the hierarchy against the pair perfectly - he is more defined through his appearance, while the others are a nameless pair of followers. Again, he’s violent and has a blood thirst to him, but beyond this i don’t get loads from this set of villains!

This episode's chase, again, the most consistent aspect of this season to me, is a car chase, which is so unique and not something we see again this season! I love them spicing up the formula already! 

Another great aspect of this episode is the aforementioned peril the characters are placed in! It makes this scenario feel so perilous and places a high level of importance upon the masks! This entire episode parallels the 1932 film The Mask of Fu Manchu, and so I imagine it was used as inspiration, possibly leading to this feeling and tone. 

Also, there was a great POV shot in here which was crazy to me. 

Overall, it’s about the same level as the previous episode! Just kind of whatever, with a few great elements constantly bogged down by all its tedious aspects. While watching I actually had a flashback to watching it on Cartoon Network or Boomerang (RIP) as a child! I think I enjoyed it more then? But still, it was evidently a forgettable episode! 

However both episodes so far have had mouse jokes so maybe this season is better than the last. 

3. Scooby’s Night With a Frozen Fright

Unfortunately, again, the negativity doesn’t end here (I promise the following episode is wholly positive!) because I found this to be one of the worst episodes of the series.

Simply, I found this one super boring! Despite all my notes being positive here, I took less than a quarter of my usual notes, because ultimately I had so little to say! I’ll focus on the positives here, because most of the negatives are just that I was super bored by this one, and there’s not too much more I can elaborate on there. 

The episode follows the gang on a beach where Shaggy reels in a frozen caveman. Upon handing him in, they soon learn the ice has melted, and the caveman is gone.

I’ll rattle through all the positives first, and then end on the villain and briefly, the setting. 

There’s a mouse in this one, so that’s a good start. 

We see both the malt shop and the beach in this episode, two locations they love using this season and that I love seeing them use! Both are able to elevate the gangs relationship and create a stronger bond between them, giving a greater feeling of their relationship and specific friendships. 

I also love the chase again too! They’re so dynamic and gaggy, they lean so much into the best slapstick that the show has to offer, and the bubblegum pop sound is something I’ve come to love and be really fascinated by recently! Even if I wouldn’t listen to any in my spare time, God do I find it interesting!

Okay I’m now realising the rest of my notes are about Tusk because Scooby and Shaggy pretend they’re seals at one point, and so I found the parallel funny. 

The rest of the episode feels muddy if not boring, such as the gang being afraid of one of the scientists talking to a dolphin and fear for their lives when a room they’re in starts having large ice cubes funnelled into it. 

The villain is an archetype I can’t say I’m too interested in! I just find them super uninteresting, always used to tell the same slew of jokes and ultimately not doing anything interesting! This guys monster design is just a man from the past who looks incredibly human, wearing only a single garment of clothing. It makes his design uninteresting and I just don’t care for this kind of character! In searching whether or not there’s another caveman villain, it’s not too clear but it seems like there’s not! Which is all good with me! 

The setting here is oceanland, which with a more interesting villain could have stood out way more! But as is, I hope we see it again, this one just didn’t leave too much of a mark. 

Not a great episode! I never felt invested in anything going on here, but even in the worst episodes, there’s still something I like! I think I’ve disliked the past three as a result of their central concepts feeling far less inspired than season one, or maybe just doing less for me! I think there’s two more episodes which I really dislike in this season, and they come from a similar place of finding their villains very drear, and I think these episodes lack creativity in where their plots go! They are tighter written, but that only highlights the flaws of the series current structure, which is all a result of budget. 

But I cannot wait for the next episode. 

4. Jeepers, it’s the Creeper

This episode follows the gang heading to a school barn dance; although all appears fine, they soon find the dance interrupted by The Creeper. 

This episode is the second highest rated episode on IMDB and it deserves all the praise it gets! This shows the best of what the season two writers can do, again, when the monsters, settings and mysteries are truly pushed. 

I think most love this episode as a result of its great villain, The Creeper. Inspired by the jazz song “Jeepers Creepers”, and possibly a character from Dr Terror's House of Horrors, the villain is difficult to describe, he’s unique in what he is, being a hunchbacked zombie-like creature. He’s human enough, in fact, if his skin weren’t green, he could easily be human, which is a criticism I had of Elias Kingston, but I think this design is way more interesting, the theming of colours is perfect, the greens complement each other perfectly, but the reddish brown hair grounds the earthy tones of the design. His expression is also evocative of a zombie, it again makes him stand out uniquely where a character like Elias falls for me. 

Also! The first ever computer virus was called The Creeper, named after the villain from this episode. 

Honestly, I like the Creeper but don’t love him! He’s a good villain but isn’t in my top ten, and not even my favourite of this season, yet the episode works so well because of the creativity he represents. Sure, we’ve had a fun variation of settings before, but here it’s pushed to its limit, it’s so much more creative than the gang visiting Chinatown because they use it to introduce a larger world, create a feeling of isolation and despair and using the setting as a vehicle for its gags, whereas Chinatown is used to tell a series of racist jokes before leaving it to sit away from the bustling streets and in a closed temple. 

I adore the barn sequence, where we see the gang dancing alongside their classmates, it’s so fun to see this world expanded even if these nameless characters feel like background characters from something like The Archies, although I couldn’t confirm anything about their whereabouts - very little concept art for the series is readily available! Regardless, it’s so fun to watch, and I love Velma and Shaggy’s relationship a lot generally, but they excel here! 

After the party goers notice The Creeper, Fred suggests they move the dance to the malt shop. I love this authority he shows and how popular he appears against his peers! This leads into what’s likely my favourite chase scene, maybe with a single exception, showing the gang running through the countryside, using this location to show hen houses and giving Scooby a chick for the rest of the episode as well as having the gang in horse wagons. It’s just so fun to watch!

Most of my favourite episodes balance the series’ sometimes unique sense of humour with fun horror aesthetics, a great villain, character interactions and setting. This episode is in my top ten, yet it doesn’t make me laugh all too much! Yet it’s delightfully fun, something that I’ve missed so far this season! 

Although, my favourite joke in the episode has to be when Scooby and Shaggy flee from The Creeper across a bridge, entering a cave where they encounter the hermit of the hills. He never returns after this sequence where he offers them his food, his purpose feels more so geared towards being an inconsequential suspect, showing off the writer's enjoyment of framing one character before revealing another, again. Yet, I find him so funny - he appears out of nowhere, he’s got such a sweet design and personality, he’s my favourite side character for sure, I adore this man. 

I also love the running plot thread in this episode of Scooby just having a chick following him throughout. This culminates in him returning this little chicken to his mother, where the episode ends with more eggs hatching and them flocking to Scooby. 

What a great episode to end on! It deserves the popularity it has, and I love the legacy it’s left behind through the creation of the virus, alongside his reappearance in the Mystery Incorporated episode  The Legend of Alice May, which is great! 

Love this one!

Episode Ranking:

Jeepers, it’s the Creeper

Nowhere to Hyde

Mystery Mask Mix-Up

Scooby’s Night with a Frozen Fright

Villain Ranking: 

The Creeper

The Scare Pair 

Ghost of Zen Tuo 

Ghost of Dr Jeykll 

Caveman

Next Review: SDWaY S2 E5-8

Previous Review: SDWaY S1 Episode Ranking

[danseinthefallout]

What To Do When You’re Booted Out of The Brotherhood: A Guide from a Former Paladin.

February 14th, 2288

Entry Written By: Danse, former Paladin. 

Entry Edition: 1/?

Edited By: Piper Wright

When you get booted from The Brotherhood of Steel, it’s for a betrayal you never knew. You are hunted down by [Play Name] as it was an order by Elder Maxon, but [they] spare your life and make you feel a little less alone. A feeling you haven’t felt in years, ever since you met your best friend, Colter, ever since you joined the Brotherhood. 

You hate Super Mutants and everything non-human for what they did to Colter, as that is what your Elder said when coming to The Commonwealth. Ghouls. Synths. Mutants. Even the day-to-day robotics you come across. It’s a sign of the world that use to be and what it resulted from. Death. You then believe that it’s not the ghouls and synths you hate, but what the result was. You don’t realize this until it’s too late. Now you grasp for anything good since you got booted from The Brotherhood, the only family that stuck around since you don’t have one. Because you too are a synth. 

You are me. Paladin Danse. Danse. I don’t know what else to call myself. I’m strong, I always have been. But this one thing, I crumble on the floor. I am reminded of all the decisions, all the *things* I have killed, and all the paths I went down thinking it was the right one. And it was, I won’t second guess that, I just wish I was wiser. 

That night that I came to this place, this place that I now call home, I was terrified, I was broken. That feeling only happened when Colter died. His face. How I screamed. I was… alone… again. That is what scared me the most. I knew I had and should push my biases of ghouls and synths aside, and it was hard to unlearn what was so deeply routed, but I always reminded myself that I am one of them and it’s okay. I *had* to be okay with it, what was I going to do about it anyways? 

I knew of Nick Valentine. He seemed like a good guy, always helping people, putting his life on the line. He reminded me, weirdly, of Colter. I went to him one night when it got worse and couldn’t find [Player Name] to confide in. Honestly, I didn’t want [them] to know this. I felt like [they] wouldn’t understand. Nick knew. I just hoped he wouldn’t turn me away for who I was before. I know I would… Luckily he didn’t, he smiled at me and said: “Nice to see you Danse, what can I do you for?” I nearly cried, just of someone saying they were happy to see me. I guess all of that emotion bubbled up. I told him how I felt and asked how he felt about it. He said some stuff that I keep close to me.

I had a moment there where I was on a self-discovery world tour, that is what John Hancock named it. Speaking of, I made my way to Goodneighbor once I talked with Nick. Maybe see what these “degenerates“ have to say. They not, I came to discover. It was like a whole new world. Ghouls and synths and robots. It felt… nice like everyone cared about each other. I wasn’t sure what to do or where to go. Maybe I went for the Memory Den, but what memories would I be willing to relive? The good ones with Colter? Meeting [Player Name] again for the first time? Joining The Brotherhood? I have so few good memories.

Hancock could smell me from a mile away, he’d seen this type of activity before. He was like me at one point, they all were. “Can I Ofer you a drink inside former coy boy?” He titled his hat and chuckled, I was unsure if he was talking to me at first but he threw an arm around me. I’d shiver at a ghoul's touch, I’d probably want to spit on him. For a moment that thought roamed my mind, but I had to remind myself why I was here, and when I gave myself the reason: the reason for being lost, I had a drink with the mayor of Goodneighbor.

We talked. I told him what happened. I told him what Nick said. I told him about [Player Name], where I learn that [they] are friends with half of the Commonwealth. ([Player Name], I now know some things I wish I could unlearn, but I guess that makes you more interesting to me) And that night I was allowed to not worry. I didn’t do chems, although I could have as Hancock offered several times, and honestly, I thought about it. Maybe it would have let me see something I was blind before, but I am scared of what that is. I ended up laughing, a lot actually, with Hancock and a few others, it never occurred to me that I had that for so long. The closes were maybe running a mission or two with [Player Name] and [them] giving me a quip or two, but nothing like that night. We went down to The Third Rail and watched Magnolia sing. I was in there as me, as Danse. Not Paladin or Knight or even Squire. It was Danse. I was not better than anyone as we were all the same. The Elder would have killed me right there if he saw me, I didn’t act the part like he wanted me to. But who gives a *shit* what a punk 20-year-old has to say or think of me? Maybe it’s insecurity or loneliest, but I always cared. I still do, don’t get me wrong, but I cared about the wrong people caring. Author never cared about me. He saw me as a number, they always do… he saw me as someone that could make him win. I know that’s how it is regardless, but with Haylen and [Player Name], they made me feel like a person. That’s what it is.

God this is stupid… I’m a soldier, not a writer. I’m supposed not to have these strong feelings because they might be processed. But god damnit! I’m sick of that! I’m a person with this *thing* inside me. I’ll be okay, I think I will. I still have a lot to wrap my mind around, and I’m trying, so for now, I’ll leave you with this before I send this off to Piper:

When you get booted from the Brotherhood of Steel, you will feel like giving up because the Brotherhood was all you knew. They conditioned you to hate and frame it as good. This idea is rooted inside you. So when you are told you are the thing that they hate, and therefore must be killed; you want to be the one to do that deed yourself, but then you get convinced not to, by the person that was ordered to kill you. You believe them and you start a new life with them. You make friends with people you were conditioned to hate, but find out they are similar to you. You spiral, you lose it, but you get back up and you start a new life because that life is over. Accept it, get over it, and deal with it.

Then you realize that you are not hopeless. You are someone that can’t be conditioned any longer. You won’t be changed.

Note From The Author:

Thank you so much for the love on my last entry! I love writing and so writing terminal entries for characters is always a challenge. If something feels off and or something you feel like out of Danse’s character, let me know! I want to improve for future entries. The idea for this entry is that some time has passed for Danse after everything happened and how he came to be okay with what happened. This for him is talking with people he has previously “hated”.

I also want to address something that someone reblogged (I can’t remember the @ so if that is you, I thank you) about tags. My tags are not always the cleanest as I just choose the tags that are “most used” and I don’t often think twice. I’ll be more mindful about that in the future so thank you for bringing it to my attention. They also (I believe this was the same person) stated they wanted some Hancock/Nick/Deacon angst too so that is what inspired some of the parts in the entry (Deacon angst coming soon) 

Anyways thank you again for the love and this was also written at 3 AM on my phone but this time I tried my best to clean some stuff off up. Any ideas please feel free to leave them, I always love getting inspired by the community

[ghostiebeech]

Chaos Twins

Hello.  In honor of Sunshine Sunday, I am reposting my chaos twins fic I originally posted back at the end of February/early March.  Currently, it’s gonna be in three parts because that is what I already had written, but maybe I add more? 

Anyway if you read this before, I did change it a little bit, but not too too too much. 

Rating: There’s some cursing, so teen and up I guess?

Word Count: 761

Summary: Papa announces that a new ghoulette is being summoned.  Dew seems apprehensive. 

On Ao3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/47338645/chapters/119282938)

or under the cut

It was a normal, boring in Dewdrop’s opinion, band practice when Papa announced the upcoming summoning of a new ghoulette.  

“With the growing success of the Ghost Project, Seestor has decided we are going to be summoning a new ghoulette.”

The ghouls chattered amongst themselves for a minute before Cirrus spoke up.

“What are they going to play? Do they sing?  I don’t think we need anymore keys, but it would be nice to have another girl on stage with us” she said, speaking a mile a minute, smiling at Cumulus who eagerly nodded her head in agreement.  Too many damn boys here.  

“The new ghoulette is a multi ghoul like our dear Swiss and - Ah, I believe her name is…” Papa stopped, trying to remember the name Seestor told him earlier that day.  “Her name is Sunshine!”  

“Oh how cute!” The ghoulettes squealed.  

As the practice winded down and Papa filtered out, the ghouls started to discuss their new bandmate.  One voice, which was typically the loudest, has been quiet since Papa told the ghouls the new ghoulette’s name.   

Aether noticed Dew’s silence.  The little fire ghoul looked like he was deep inside his head thinking.  Knowing Dew, Aether decided not to bring this up until he was in the privacy of his and Dew’s room.  

After dinner, back in their room, Aether decided to casually bring up the subject of the new ghoulette.  

“So Dew, what do you think about Papa adding a new member?”

“Oh yeah.  I almost forgot about that… It’s cool I guess…”  Dew looked away from his mate, picking up his acoustic guitar, absentmindedly tuning the strings

“You looked a little-” Aether paused trying to think of the right word to not upset Dew. “Nervous when Papa started talking about them…”

“Did I?”  Dew said, not looking up from his guitar. “It’s whatever honestly…”

“Is there anything wro-”

Dew harshly cut off his mate, “Can we talk about literally anything else?”  

Normally Aether would continue to push his mate into discussing his feelings, but a quiet, pleading “Please” from Dew made the quintessence ghoul to drop the subject.  If Dew wanted to talk about it later, Aether would be here to listen.  

The summoning day arrived a week later.  The week leading up, Dew was especially antsy and irritable, snapping, or leaving the room at the mention of the new ghoulette.  Most of his bandmates chalked it up to Dew being annoyed that there was going to be another addition to the band.  The fire ghoul was always uncomfortable with sudden changes to his day to day.  

In the summoning room Dew looked white as a ghost.  The pack could smell the nerves coming off the Dew.  

The ritual itself went on without a hitch.  After Papa chanted out the spell, flames erupted from the earth.  The fire and smoke cleared, leaving a small figure standing in the middle of the room.  

Sunshine was tiny. Shorter than Dewdrop.  She had a sort of light, sunshine radiating off of her.  Her slender face was framed with bouncy blonde curls.  

The room was silent, all the ghouls staring at their new packmate, the new ghoulette looking around the room.  Suddenly a low growl sounded from the new ghoulette.  Aether looked to see what or who she was growling at.  

Dewdrop.  She was staring right at Dewdrop, baring her fangs.

Before anybody would react the new ghoulette had launched herself at the fire ghoul.  

Aether and Mountain rushed forward to separate the two ghouls when they heard the new ghoulette manically giggling.  She wasn’t attacking Dew, she was… tickling him?

“SUNNY, STOP I CAN’T BREATHE- FUCKING ASSHOLE” the tiny ghoul squealing, writhing around on the floor trying to escape the multi ghoul.

“You are still SO SO SO ticklish, Dewy.” The ghoulette emphasized the SO SO SO with aggressive tickles to the fire ghoul’s belly. 

“Dewy?” Rain questioned, looking at Mountain who was busy staring at Sunshine.  

Papa and the other ghouls looked at the pair in varying states of confusion and awe.  They know each other?

Eventually the two smaller ghouls separated, still giggling.  Sunshine got up first, offering a hand to Dew.   The two were staring at each other with matching happy, yet a little feral grins.    

“So, you guys know each other or something?” Swiss was the first to speak up, curiosity killing him slowly.

“This is my twin!” Dew and Sunny replied in unison, laughing at each other.

“Oh Satan, there's two of them…” Papa muttered in disbelief.  What has he gotten himself into?

[https-hunter]

Find your 3 oldest WIPS. Then list for each:

The inspiration- Why it's still a WIP- Will you finish- Why or why not-

Try not to mean to yourself!

Oh, I love this idea! I’ll include some of the wips themselves, so this may be a long post.

1. The oldest wip I could find was in my notes app, dated to June 2, 2020. It’s a breakfast club one shot, Andy and Allison’s first date.

The day had finally come. The day of Andy and Allison’s first date. Andy has an idea that he felt worked well for both of them. It took him a few days to plan, and he ran it by the rest of the Breakfast Club first, but it was well worth it. When he told them, Claire cried. She thought it was so sweet and was rooting for their relationship 100%. Brian thought it was cute and gave him some facts about where the date was taking place. Bender...well, he made fun of it at first because of how sappy sporto was becoming, but then he got serious and congratulated Andy and gave him only the manliest of hugs, to everyone’s surprise.

Inspo- I actually remember coming up with the idea. I was 16 and on this walk with my family at a reservoir where my brother likes to run. It was much longer than I thought it would be (5 miles!) and I was saying that it would be nice to spend the day wandering around the res, maybe bring a lunch and hang out. My mind began to wander and I started to think about how it would be cute if Andy and Allison went on a picnic date in the park.

Why it’s still a wip- idk man. I was writing my nearly 50k worded breakfast club fic at the time. I had a lot going on, what, with finishing my junior year of high school via zoom and all.

Will I finish- I don’t think so

Why- eh, I just don’t really want to. I’ve written a few Andy/Allison fics since and I’m fine with this one living in my mind and notes app

2. This next one is once again from my notes app, but it’s from 2021 and for Titans. It’s basically a Halloween fic

Halloween is a time of year filled with spooks, frights, and most importantly, the thrill of the season. It’s when everyone embraces their inner ghoul and has fun.

Almost everyone, anyway.

Being from an alien planet, Kory isn’t exactly used to Earth’s silly little traditions, and Halloween was no exception. Tamaran had never seen anything like it, so when Rachel and Gar mentioned it, she was eager to learn more.

Inspo- I think my friend Luke (I’ll refrain from tagging him bc of how long this post is but he’s the super slay @/anton-wyzek) and I were talking about Kory being introduced to Halloween. I never wrote this part, but the four main Titans were supposed to go as the Addams Family

Why it’s still a wip- I never got past season 2 of titans tbh. I guess I fell out of it

Will I finish- no

Why- I’m not really feeling it, not caught up on the show or anything. It’s such a fun concept though

3. Another notes app superstar, this time from March of 2022. It’s the start to a Carrie fix it fic where the bucket misses Tommy’s head

Carrie White is at the prom.

A sentence that defies all logic, really, but is completely, 100% true. Even Carrie, herself, was shocked as she walked through the gymnasium doors with one Tommy Ross.

Inspo- umm I love Carrie and Tommy. That’s kinda it. I think they deserved happiness and I was going to give it to them

Why it’s a wip- idk I got distracted ig 😭

Will I finish- I would love to!! I think about this fic quite a bit, so I think that’s a sign. Maybe when tinimmy week is all taken care of, I tie off the loose ends with wagstaff side story (so close!) and I write the ghosts fic I’ve been working on

Why- because I love this idea!

[myupostsheadcanons]

Book's "Read" In 2023

Ranking of the Audio Books I've "Read" this past year. This is my opinion on the books, as "Fun Garbage > Boring Navel Gazing" and books that may be objectively better written are not always fun or engaging to read. Sometimes a really good actor can make an average book sound really good.

List from 2022

Previous entries 2021, 2020. 2019, 2018, 2017

My Top Books/Series:

Rabbits - Terry Miles: If Ready Player One was good. There is a game called "Rabbits" being played that involves looking for "glitches in the matrix" in the world around you. The winner of the game gets an unknown wish. But this round of the game is off... something is wrong... people are dying... and our main character, her girlfriend, and their best friend are putting together the clues and finding out that there is more to reality than they first thought.

Under the Whispering Door - T. J. Klune: Asshole Lawyer dies and realizes he wasted his life. Finds himself in the waiting room to the afterlife, which is a little hipster coffee and tea shop out in the middle of the North West USA. He refuses to accept his death and lingers around the shop as a ghost... wacky adventures ensues.

Alice isn’t Dead - Joseph Fink: Woman becomes a truck driver while searching for her wife?/girlfriend/so that she thought died. Until one day she saw said wife in the background of a news report. There are wicked cannibals on the road and a secret Area 51 town of murderous ghouls.

Dead Water - C. A. Fletcher: Small Island Town in Scotland gets a zombie outbreak problem. From the same writer as "A Boy and His Dog At The End of the World"... The main character is a woman from Scandinavia that married into the family from the island, she became widowed and remained behind on the island. She ends up looking after her orphaned disabled niece as there is a festival inland that the grandparents and most of the villagers left to see. The author loves the Scrappy Dog Companion Trope, and I am all for that!

The Emperor’s Edge Series - Lindsay Buroker

Conspiracy, Blood and Betrayal, (Forgotten Ages Saga), Forged in Blood (Part 1 & 2)

This is one of Buroker's first series, older than the Star Kingdom, Fallen Empire, and Dragon's Gate Series. Many of her archetypes are present, the main female character gets a crush on the Dark and Mysterious Badass. The Badass may be a killer but has a code of honor and a secret soft spot that he eventually trusts the main character with. Lots of Snarky back-and-forth dialog between all the side characters, and the main character can usually talk people into doing what she wants.

The Forgotten Ages Saga is a Prequel to The Emperor's Edge series, but I HIGHLY suggest that it gets read before Forged in Blood, as it introduces us to General Starcrest and it will be easier to understand what goes on in Forged in Blood, and reading it after Blood and Betrayal doesn't spoil the 'zinger' twist about their world-setting.

Super Powereds - Drew Hayes

Year 2, Year 3, & Year 4

Drew Hayes's first real long-form novel series. It shows some of the clunkyness of being a first series that would later be hammered out before getting to Villains' Code, Fred The Vampire Accountant, and NPC's/SS&S. It is also one of those series where the books get bigger with each installment, the 4th book could kill a cat. (suggest listening to the audio books on a higher speed)

It has a lot of collage tropes from the 2000's, young people with super powers going to parties and drinking while worrying about grades and studies. The twist really wasn't much of a twist, as we could easily guess who the actual bad guy was early on and that who we thought was the bad guy wasn't really bad... I don't really care for the "everybody is related" kind of twist, where like half of the cast ends up being from the same family and all this was some kind of messed up family feud.

It is a Young Adult Series, but it feels like the characters are Young Adults and not written specifically for a YA crowd. There is still swearing, violence, has dark themes but it isn't grimdark (like Cline's Ex-Heroes series). Explores topics like discrimination, not just the main characters being Powered, but there is a plot line where one of the main character's father was disgraced hero because he was having a secret affair with an other guy. It isn't so much that this hero was outed as being gay that caused the son to be mad at him, but that the father left them and broke contact with them that causes most of the rift in their relationship. There is a spin-off series called CORPIES that follows along on the Father trying to get back into the super hero game that takes place along side Book 3.

Other Favorite Books/Guilty Pleasures

The Grief of Stones (Goblin Emperor, Book 3) - Kathrine Addison: It was left a little ambiguous if there is going to be more in this series near the end, or if the author is going to change protagonists for another in later books. Third book in the Goblin Emperor Universe, Second in the Witness for the Dead series. The Witness for the Dead books can be read together, they are shorter together than the GE book. I wouldn't mind there being an on going series where new protagonists take over the narrative as the series progress and expand on the world building. The Witness for the Dead series is made for getting people familiar with how people live in their world... because we can't escape death no matter how rich or lucky you are.

Villains Vignettes Vol. 1. (Villains' Code, Book 2.5) - Drew Hayes: A collection of short stories that take place in the Villains' Code Universe: Including a Halloween-Town-themed story and a Christmas story where Santa is real and Fornax has to save the North Pole. Another is a better version of "Glory Road" (see bottom of list), but it is Ivan/Fornax instead and he was summoned to save a planet from demons... and leaving a trail of bodies behind.

A Fallen Empire Omnibus (Books 1 - 3) - Lindsay Buroker: Aftermath of a Revolution War that did not plan out what was to happen with the freed systems once out from under Empire Rule, and lawlessness spreads across the galaxy with entire systems left to defend for themselves. A former Revolution Army Pilot wants to head home to her daughter, but travel is expensive and the only known means of escaping the planet is by a freighter ship that was once owned by her mother. However, a Empire Super Soldier Cyborg got to the ship first and has somewhere else he wants to go. (This is a Lindsay Buroker Book, and considering her other "ships" from the other series, the main female lead gets the hots for the troubled and dangerous badass)

Eyes of the Void (The Final Architecture, Book 2) - Adrian Tchaikovsky: The Architects are on the move again, and even places that were once safe from attack are no longer. A race of people in the past left artifacts behind that once repelled the Architects. Our protags find themselves on a planet that has a city of these ruins upon it that is being systematically devastated. Humanity is fractured and don't hold an united front against the threat.

Noble Roots (Spells, Swords, and Stealth, Book 5) - Drew Hayes: Their is an estate that holds a tournament of challenges with prizes at the end for the winning team. Not a whole lot to say, one of those books that you will love if you already read the ones that came before it.

Farilane (Rise and Fall, Book 2) - Michael J. Sullivan: The one book this year that had me crying at the end... But by that point I've spent 10 books following that one character's journey and got attached to the main character of this one.

Kingdoms at War (Dragon Gate, Book 1) - Lindsay Buroker: Sweet Sciencey-Magic. A setting where magic acts more like science fiction. The Dragons created gates that allowed them to travel between worlds, the dragons left one world but the gates remained behind. The gates and the metal they are made of are very valuable and wars are fought over the possession of the gates, even though the means to use them is unknown. A young man and his mother figure out how to use these Gates to some degree and become wanted fugitives. (one of the villains is a r-pist, so this is a very much adult series)

Flight of the Magpies - K. J. Charles: Get some good smut in with your Supernatural Victorian-London Crime-solving.

The Sandman (Act 3) - Neil Gaiman: The majority of this installment involves Orpheus, Morpheus's son: their past, why they fell out with each other, and Morpheus reconciling with his son.

The 13th God (Cycle of Galand, Book 8) - Edward W. Robertson: Dante and Blaze are still trying to save the mortal realm, this time it requires having to kill a God and they have to team up with another villain to do so. I love this series... but even at this point, I hope it gets wrapped up in the next couple books.

Travel by Bullet (The Dispatcher, Book 3) - John Scalzi: If you like the early Dresden Books, give this series a shot. Uses the unique "people can't die of unnatural causes" rule, while people try to cause crimes and find work-arounds to killing other people or themselves.

Good Books, But Not Everybody's Cup-of-Tea

Song of Night (Dying Lands Chronicle, Book 2) - Jacob Cooper: Read the first book a few years ago. There is a "redemption" arc in this installment, a new prominent character who was a villain long ago becomes good and is trying to fix things (like Caeden from Licanius Trilogy or Malcolm from Riyria)

The Mad Mage of Sevendor & Marshal Arcane (The Spellmonger, Book 14.5 & 15) - Terry Mancour: The Mad Mage is a collection of Diary Entries from Minalan recording personal events that happened during Marshal Arcane. It comes off as if these entries could've been slotted in between the earlier chapters of MA, when Min isn't the person telling the story but the secondary people around him getting their first-person spotlight chapter.

Seas The Day & High Gloom (The Bad Guys Series) - Eric Ugland: Morally Gray Main Character, human gets Isekai'd into a MMORPG. The Gods of Good and Evil fight for his favor, and he frequently pisses off both of them. Don't get too attached to side characters.

Explorer of the Endless Sea & Fate of the Free Lands (Empress of the Endless Sea, Book 2 & 3) - Jack Campbell: Read Book 1 a couple years ago. A prequel to the faux-fantasy series Pillars of Reality. The series as a whole heavily reminds people about the Prophecy that a savior will be born to free the people from the oppressive governments that run their world. This series is about the woman Jules, who's decedent would one day be that person.

Resolute (The Lost Fieet: Outlands, Book 2) - Jack Campbell: Continuation of one of my favorite space series, with the most realistic space battles I've came across. This is like the 20th book in the canon, starting with The Lost Fleet: Dauntless. They are short books, can be consumed in under 12 hours each.

Vampire Hunter D: Riser of Gales, Vampire Hunter D: Demon Deathchase (Vampire Hunter D, Book 2 & 3) - Hideyuki Kikuchi: Riser of Gales is D coming across a hidden Noble fortress. In the recent past, a group of kids from a nearby town went missing exploring the fortress grounds, but showed up with loss of memory as to what happened. They did not come back whole. At least one graphic scene of sexual abuse to a minor... Demon Deathchase is the book that Vampire Hunter D: Bloodlust was mostly adapted from.

Architects of Memory, Engines of Oblivion (The Memory War, Book 1 & 2) - Karen Osborne: Classism in Space. The non-citizens are poor and live as indentured servants to the mega corporations that govern society. Aliens seek out an artifact that contained the memories of their people, lost during the war they had with humans that they ended abruptly. Has a "Darth Vader" twist between the antagonist and the main character.

Priest of Lies (War for the Rose Throne, Book 2) - Peter McLean: Punk street thug, to mob boss, to wealthy lord... and not by choice. Strings are being pulled, people he once depended on can no longer be, and former allies turn as they become angered by the MC's rapid jump in status, "becoming what he once despised."

Doors of Eden - Adrian Tchaikovsky: in some paces the walls between the multiverse is thin. LGBTQ book, the main character is trying to find her lost girlfriend that fell through one of these Doors into another world. The other is a transwoman that discovered the method of creating these portals. Rich asshole bad guy.

Malefactor (War with No Name) - Robert Repino: The Sad and Depressing books about animals turned humanoid. Peace is fragile between the animals and humans, a wolf pack in the woods is stirring up discontent and rebellion.

The Elfor One (The Code Series, Book 3) - R. R. Haywood: Final book in the trilogy. They free the ships from the shadow organization and bring equality to the Lower 40's.

Stormbringer (Elric Saga, Vol 2), The White Wolf (Elric Saga Vol. 3) - Michael Moorcock: Elric fights Nazzis.

A Wizard’s Guide to Defensive Baking - T. Kingfisher: cute story, not as fun as Too Many Curses, but on the same quality and reading level. Main character should've been older (16-18ish) because she acted more like a sheltered adult rather than a kid. Bread Wizard. The Yeast Beast is the best character.

Second Hand Curses - Drew Hayes: a group of cursed story characters team up to create a task force to resolve various curses around the literary world. Hunting down wicked witches is their specialty.

Posthumous Education (Fred The Vampire Accountant, Book 8) - Drew Hayes: I love the idea, a collage for the supernatural. Kinda getting sick of Quinn's schemes tho after so many books. Dude's gotta go, please, sometime in the next couple books, Drew.

The Halloween Moon - Joseph Fink: If you liked Gravity Falls, Goosebumps, and Welcome to Nightvale. A story for middle-school aged kids that isn't too childish for older people to enjoy.

God of Neverland -  Gama Ray Martinez: Peter Pan goes missing. Michael Darling, now an adult, worked for the Magical Detective Agency. He is sent to Never-Neverland to solve the problem. Jaded Adult Visiting a Magical Land of Fantasy ruled by The God of Children.

Average Sauce

Ithaca - Claire North: It tells the story of Penelope through the voice of Hera and her omnipresence in the story. There is a lot of "men are either scum or useless" messaging and that powerful women get punished unfairly.

Pandora’s Jar & Stone Blind: A Novel - Natalie Haynes: Pandora's Jar is closer to an Essay on Women in Greek Mythology. Stone Blind is a retelling of the Medusa Myth, and why she was different from her other sisters and the loss of her compassion after her death.

The Archived - Victoria Schwab: Girl and her Family move into a spooky old hotel that was converted into apartments. Girl is a ghost-buster. Runs into two guys around her age that become potential love interests. One of them ends up the villain, and it isn't the nice guy.

Gallant - V. E. Schwab: A girl from an orphanage is found by a long-lost relative and moves to a creepy house. There is something spooky living in the shadows of the estate grounds. Author needs to work on Villain Twists.

Persephone Station - Stina Leicht: Main characters are women and non-binary on the LGBTQ spectrum, working as a team of Special Ops Mercs for Hire. The natives of the planet are being killed by the colonist humans. Main characters are sent out on a suicide mission to save the natives.

Sword Stone Table: Old Legends, New Voices - Swapna Krishina, Jenn Northington: Retelling of King Arthur but with Women, LGBTQ, and POC taking the roles of the main characters. Some of my favorite versions is the Latino Baseball Player, A Wild West Prospector turn Mogul, and Merlin visiting the AIDS clinic as a fake magician.

Musashi - Eiji Yoshikawa: The Badass Swordsman. Based on a real person, but this is extra meme. Written in an era of wanting to glorify the Empire of Japan around WW2. Lots of elements went on to be used more commonly in fighting manga, movies, and other media from Japan. Adapted into several TV series and a manga (Vagabond).

The Sheep Dragon (Unconventional Heroes) - L. G. Estrella: an in-between book. Most of the stories follow around Spot The Dragon and a scheme of Timmy's to breed sheep with special wool properties. The series has a habit of getting lost in the minutia, and over explaining things.

Cosmic Delivery Boy -  L. G. Estrella: Over explaining things looks to be a quark of the Author themselves. I don't always mind it. Explaining how the Cosmic Hamsters rule over multi-dimensional shipping, how the MC's new job works, and the dynamics of the different worlds they visit. I am not nearly as invested with the world and characters as I am with the author's Unconventional Heroes books.

The Great Courses: They are Educational, non-Fiction.

Albert Einstein: Physicist, Philosopher,  Humanitarian (The Great Courses)  - Prof. Don Howard

England: From the Fall of Rome to the Norman Conquest (The Great Courses) - Prof. Jennifer Paxton

King Arthur: History and Legend (The Great Courses) - Dorsey Armstrong

The Iliad of Homer, The Odyssey of Homer, The Aeneid of Virgil (The Great Courses) - Elizabeth Vandiver

Readable/Passable

The Red Sphinx (The Three Musketeers) - Alexandre Dumas: A political, historical fiction novel taking place in the same timeline as The Three Musketeers, they do not appear in this novel. Lots of names, intrigue, and court politics done by a cast of over-the-top characters. The only real "downer" part of the book was a chapter on the Plague. The version I read had an additional story at the end to resolve an abandoned love story plot, it was better/more memorable than the book itself.

Archetype - M. D. Waters: An 'updated' version of The Handmaid's Tale. Women are having fewer children and the poor women are being bought and sold as slaves. A technique was discovered to restore the fertility of women, but is only accessible to the super rich. Main character is one of the women in the program, placed there by her husband; she has holes in her memories and her memories were not lining up as they return to her. (expect a lot of gaslighting, manipulation, and "women vs. men" flag waving)

The Collective Works of Arthur C. Clarke -  Arthur C. Clarke: Clark was one of those authors that didn't understand women IRL. It is reflected in a majority of his stories that the women are not the main characters through most of his career, and often were treated as passive and either only going along with the men, being in the way, or only pined after when absent. Like most Old School Science Fiction - many stories had cool concepts, but poor execution.

The Dark Decent of Elizabeth Frankenstein - Kiersten White: It would've been a better story if it wasn't restrained by the Young Adult genre. It wanted to go grimdark, but had to hold itself back when it would've been better to just full-send it. It depicted Victor as someone who was a sociopath since childhood and Beth was adopted into the family as a "nanny friend" that became dependent on him. She would lie for him when ever he "slips up" and was a passive protagonist for most of the story.

Bottom of the Barrel

Lord of Light - Roger Zelazny: Masters of hyper advanced technology that have taken over civilization using the names of old Earth Gods. The idea that "the gods aren't that much different than the people that created them" but in a science fiction setting.

The WORST

Glory Road - Robert A. Heinlein: Ex-Pat, Ex-Soldier Libertarian gets Isekai'd into a Conan The Barbarian Type Fantasy World. Tip toes around the idea of "is this advanced tech or is it magic?" Man solves problems of backwoods Fantasy Stereotypical world through being a dick to most people (a typical Heinlein Hero).