#and try to like give them a reason to like her by infecting her (forcing the circus members to like being with her)

[cinderflower]

Hey! I love your works, thanks for sharing them! Your stuff is some of my favorites in the fandom!

I just wanted to ask your opinion on how Malenia and Miquella (from FoR and your characterization of them specifically) would view Millicent. How do you think they'd interact with her? Would they avoid her? What would that mean for their own relationship? Etc etc.

Just asking because I think your take on Malenia and Miquella is so interesting to play around with.

Thanks! Your stuff is awesome!!

Wah, anon this is such a sweet message, I'm always humbled to hear people like my works and my characterizations! Thank you so much 🥺💕

I'm so sorry this is so long but as I'm sure you can imagine, I have Many Thoughts about Malenia lol.

I've actually thought quite a lot about Millicent and her sisters and I think, first and foremost, that she doesn't know about them at all. I think after her bloom and being carried back to the roots of the Haligtree that she's basically been in a pseudo-coma as the rot progresses now that she's needle-less, so she might know about the kindred of rot but not Millicent or her sisters.

With Malenia, I really focus on her lack of autonomy as a character throughout the most formative years of her life and the trauma that undoubtedly came with it, where she is burdened with the rot which would have effectively ostracized her from most people except Miquella (because of his immunity to the rot). This is also in addition to her being named as an Empyrean and already having her fate decided for her. So the nature by which Millicent and her sisters came to be, after her bloom and presumably like offshoots or cuttings from plants, they'd be another blow against her autonomy because she didn't have a say in their creation (implied by Gowry raising them and her rejection of the kindred of rot).

Specifically with Millicent, I imagine Malenia would see a lot of herself in her, and I think she would harbor a deep resentment because of that - not because she'd dislike Millicent, but because Millicent would be a reflection of her younger self. Someone who is spawned from her, consequently cursed BY her, to suffer the same hardships. Millicent is the same as younger Malenia, which consequently forces Malenia into the role of the Outer Rot God in their dynamic - unwittingly having taken on the role of the thing she hates. If Malenia had embraced the rot like Romina, I think it would be different, but every time she accepts it, it's when she's at the end of her rope with no choices left and she's essentially resigned herself to death.

This might sound harsh, but it's also why I love her as a character - I believe Malenia is ultimately deeply selfish in her actions where Miquella is concerned (and vice versa ignoring all the DLC). She's sworn herself to his cause, has proven herself willing to die for him, to go to war for him, to commit countless atrocities in his name and inflict the very thing she despises - the curse that has caused her so much misery - on countless others. For him. But! In a twisted way, it's also for herself! Because for once, this is HER choice. She decided to take on the title of his blade and devote herself to him. No matter the ask, no matter the cost.

Miquella, who knows Malenia better than anyone and has been by her side throughout the worst of it, knows all of this. I believe he would be sympathetic to Millicent and her sisters (also seeing a younger Malenia in them) but I suspect that while he would also try to help them in secret, he'd be (selfishly) keeping them away from Malenia so that she wouldn't have to deal with all the trauma I mentioned above. He might feel some guilt about it, but with how I write him in FoR, he's always willing to harbor some secrets if he believes it's in Malenia's best interest. He wants to save her, to give her back the life she's been denied - a life free of her rot and any burdens. And that would mean a life without five magically spawned new dependents whose existence would be inflicting constant psychic damage on Malenia and that she'd feel responsible for.

In a timeline where the twins are far less codependent, and where they're not both so focused on Miquella's ambitions to cure Malenia of her rot and revolutionize the world, maybe Malenia is able to take the time to heal and make peace with herself. In that timeline, maybe Millicent would serve to be a positive and healing influence on her.

[muletia]

First of all I LOVE your fics!! Thank you for feeding my delusions (like its totally normal to be obsessed with a robot)

I just keep imagining this scenario where the reader and optimus are kinda in the flirting stage, and she has to attend an office party, so after saving her ass from cons, he drops her off at the venue, and she has to change. She does that in the truck and checks herself in the mirror, and he compliments her. She then gives him a kiss on the dashboard and the hood and leaves. Ratchet notices that optimus is in a daze and asks why does he have red splotches on his face and chest (reader kissed him with red lipstick on).

What do you think his reaction would be like and if the kids notice its kiss marks

thank you <33 and dw i'm feeding my own delusions, no thoughts, head full of giant obsessed robots (let's pretend that opti knows what lipstick is for this, okay??)

word count: 730

He feels the warmth of your lips on his armor long after you’ve parted ways. You delivered your blows swiftly, yet precisely, and above all, skillfully—because Optimus cannot stop thinking about them. It was a small gesture, perhaps left by you in a rush of emotion when he directed a compliment your way, or maybe it was intentional, meant to torture him just a little, to leave a mark behind, ensuring he’d think of you constantly until your return. For him, however, the implications of your action were enormous, hinting at a quiet passion. And perhaps his fantasies seized control of him immediately, but he was convinced they meant far more than just a goodbye. They implied something else. Something closer, more intimate. Were you trying to tell him something? Prove something to him? As a leader, he needed to be certain at all times, but you were someone he could never quite figure out. How could someone so noble also torment him so much?

He drives into the base and transforms, though his thoughts remain with you—your warm lips, the boundless trust you showed him, the gentleness you displayed toward him. He vividly remembers the texture of your soft, warm lips against him. He’s even convinced they’re still there, infecting him with their heat, awakening desires he tries not to entertain. For they are unclean and unworthy of you, and, above all, unworthy of him.

"Optimus?"

But oh, how much he would give to once again be the center of your attention. For you to honor him with another kiss. It could be imprecise, unclear—it could leave him pondering its meaning for ages, as well as searching for the reason you chose to bestow it upon him in the first place. The pretext wouldn’t matter when it meant your focus was solely on him.

"Optimus?"

He returns to the real world. Ratchet greets him, clearly displeased that the leader of the Autobots was lost in thought instead of focusing on reality. In this case, Optimus is forced to push you to the back of his processor, though he is disheartened by the necessity. He wonders how long he can last—how long until you envelop him in your warmth again and he finds himself dissecting every gesture, every glance, wondering if this particular interaction was more romantic than the rest.

"My apologies, my friend. It seems I became lost in my thoughts."

"This has been happening more and more often lately. But that’s not what I wanted to talk about. Did something happen during your journey?"

Optimus arches a brow, surprised.

"No, I reached the base without any issues. Why do you ask?"

"This."

Ratchet points to a spot on his chassis, just beneath the left windshield, on the freshly polished red paint. Then, oh Primus, to his faceplate. Optimus doesn’t need a mirror to know what specifically the medic is pointing at. And for the first time in a very, very long time, he feels embarrassment creeping in, exposing a sliver of his emotions to the world.

He subtly turns his head and covers his mouth with his servo, for at this moment, he has no excuse for this situation.

“Ooooooh, I know what this is, I know!” Miko shouts, having been bored out of her mind just moments ago.

“Miko, calm down,” Jack scolds, noticing Optimus’s discomfort.

But Miko couldn’t care less.

“It's lipstick and the marks mean that boss bot has someone who really likes him.” She emphasizes "really" and giggles. The situation becomes even funnier as Ratchet rolls his optics.

“Ah yes, I forgot you were dropping [Name] off,” he sighs. “Just get together already, I beg of you.”

“It is not that simple,” Optimus clears his throat.

“Mhm, sure.”

Prime leaves the hangar, metaphorical tail between his legs, intent on erasing the evidence of his “crime.” He should have expected that your affections would eventually be noticed (they were, long ago), but he would have preferred for it not to happen under such humiliating circumstances.

He touches the spot Ratchet pointed to with a digit. He can still feel your lips there—their warmth, the sparks you shared with him. And if it were up to him, he would never get rid of your marks, the proof of belonging to you, of being yours alone. But the world around him was not ready for that.

[sweeneydino]

can you pleaas give us random facts about woh au? I really love it i can hear you (will read you talking to be more correct) all day long! But I don’t have and certain things to ask

I will eat anything (((o(*ﾟ▽ﾟ*)o)))♡

Of course ^^

This might be long…

Not really accurately shown here, but their general heights are: Weapon! Raph(Red)8 ft. , Don(Purple) and Leon(Blue) 7ft. , Mikey(Orange) 5”7 and April(Yellow) 5”4. Their height varies a-lot so don’t mind it much :)

Due to their very flashy and quite destructive arrival, the Hamato Clan was created centuries earlier. The original Foot is still older, and their rivalry is still bloody.

The weapons got a-lot of nicknames over the years, but for some reason, it always loops around to their colors.

While their surroundings differ for each individual, their realms always consist of a cherry blossom tree and Japanese bellflower.

Donatello and Michelangelo sneak out alone a lot, often either coming back with scrap or covered in paint stains.

Their visits happen during meditation or sleep.

Michelangelo learns how to cook a lot quicker, especially after the incident™️…. He is much more ready to bounce, hop, and swing around with his chains. He CANNOT stand still, especially after mystic discharges.

Quite often, he picks up his brothers without thinking. He is also more likely to act without thinking(wow this place is really quiet, let's scream-)

Donatello watches a lot of melodramas and often paints his weapon a bright purple despite his brothers teases. He always has his weapon near him at all times and talks out loud more than his brothers, rivaled by only Mikey.

He was the first to have a conversation with his weapon.

His sass is immeasurable, but his social skills are 0.

He always has a project in the works, and it's always more grander than the last.

Yes, he might have committed a few crimes, but if there is a purple fuzz blocking the view of the cameras, clearly, it didn't happen.

Leonardo has gained an annoying habit of leaning on his sword and often leans too far and falls. He also experiences insomnia after his portals activate and hates being alone in the dark.

April and Donnie start out as friends. I.e I have been infected by this beautiful post .

Apriltello/Capriltello/Jonatello/Capril or any other ships will not be the main focus, dw. Also, leo and karai will not have that whole… situation. Only friendship to bffs to siblings, thanks to the fruity sword 👍

Leonardo and Raphael fight less often, but when they do, it gets quite messy. Doesn’t help they have a hard time opening up.

Fear his puns.

Leo is very spiritually inclined and is usually sleepy, sometimes falling asleep during katas. He gets the most visits because of this. Not in season 3 tho-

He has to clean his sword(s). Daily.

Raphael still paints and has a giant collection of teddy bears. When Michelangelo asks him why he has many teddy bears, he is often pelted by a few. It doesn’t seem like he made them for himself.

Raphael suffers from chronic brothers-climbing‐on-his-shell syndrome. Literally. There is no brick left unsmashed when he gets into a fight, and at least on bone must be cracked. Why? Stress release.

Strangely, after activating his mystics, Spike gets a bit hissy for a while. And he stinks.

He shows a bit more affection to his brothers, mostly Mikey, but only hugs.

She hangs around much more often in the lair because of a familiar pull. She's a sucker for romances, and all the shows the turtles show her. Her favorite is, of course, SRMFF(Super Robo Mecha Force Five!)

Similar to canon, April hates being belittled and her family being in distressed. After her dad is mutated, she does try to take some time away from her friends. Including her weapon, much to their chagrin.

Once she starts training, April becomes an adrenaline junkie. Sometimes, she invites one of the boys to join her, albeit with a disguise. Leo and Raph often try to avoid those outings.

She's a little introverted, but becomes more open towards others when she meets the turtles. Especially when she gains her weapon.

Due to her being psychic, it's a lot easier for her to discover a new friend, with a few... setbacks, of course.

Yoshi has seen the weapons outside of their weapons. So has Saki.

Splinter is a bit more laid-back, not enough to not be extremely worried every time his kids come home with bruises, but enough that it's easier to convince him they may go topside. Maybe because he too, likes the TV.

After he uses his own mystics, he usually disappears to the dojo. Snores always follow

When the turtles leave Splinter with their weapons, either from being grounded, a lesson, or end of training pre-episode 1, he usually looks annoyed, amused, or tired. And it's not because of his kids.

Splinter is able to wield their mystic weapons masterfully, but their ninpo ones are a different story.

Like always, some of these might be different in the future but I think I got it right for now ùvú

[graceroll]

this is what summer feels like

✿ Summary: After watching a tape of the second Quarter Quell, you immediately fall for the handsome and brave victor - Haymitch Abernathy. Since then, you've been a loyal sponsor for District 12.

✿ Pairing: Haymitch x fem! Reader

✿ Warning: NSFW | mentions of prostitution, creampie, unprotected sex, Older Man x Younger Woman

✿ Words: 5.2k (also available on AO3)

It's late at night, your friends just scattered home. You're sitting alone in the home theater, the large screen casting flickering shadows on your face.

Outside, the lights are on. You can see the giant posters of tributes hanging on the wall of the building across the street. Although nights in Capitol are usually restless, it is livelier now than usual. Bars on the street must be crowded with people, all gathered to enjoy the annual event. Every year, you watch the Games with friends. Different from most people here who are crazy about the Hunger Games, you just don't want to seem too out of place.

You look at the girl on the screen - unlike before, District 12 is no longer silent and obscure this year; there is a rare volunteer. You study her closely and find that she is really just like him, the same olive skin, the same gray eyes. More so when heard sister was reaped, she shouted, "I volunteer as tribute!" and resolutely stepped forward, with determination on her face. That look is familiar, one you saw years ago when first laid eyes on him. Perhaps it was then that you thought he was different. But over the years, you never see that in him again.

Although you come from a wealthy family that runs the largest shopping mall and body alteration center in Capitol, you never place a bet on the Games before this year. Maybe it really is as they sarcastically put it, that you are sanctimonious; no matter how hard you try, you can only be a casual spectator, unwilling to gamble with the lives of young children. Just thinking about it makes your throat tighten and bile rises. You believe that war is a double-edged sword, that the defeated don't become inferior and degraded just because they lose. It is too cruel to sacrifice young boys and girls for decades. But clearly, the great President Snow – Panem's #1 Peacekeeper - doesn't think so. Your opinion is obviously rebellious, so cannot air it out.

But this year, before the Games has even officially started, you're already throwing money down on Katniss and Peeta. Katniss wins the hearts of many by volunteering to stand up for her sister, while Peeta's heartfelt confession during the interview with Caesar captivates everyone. Additionally, they both got good grades in private sessions with Gamemakers. But there are more reasons compelling you to place your bets; somehow, you think they are like no other previous tributes from District 12.

Snapping back from flashback of the memory, you look up at the screen again, where Katniss lies pale and sweaty in a sleeping bag high up in the tree. She has been hiding deep in the woods since the Games began, until Gamemakers deliberately released fireballs to force her into the confrontation with the Careers. This agile and clever girl has managed to hold them off for now, but fireball burned her calf, leaving ugly, bloody wounds exposed to the air. Without proper medication to treat, she'll get infected. Although gifts in the early stages of the Games are not expensive, specific medicines are usually not placed in the Cornucopia and are hard to get directly in the arena, so generally worth a lot of money. But you still give a call.

After changing into a silk nightgown in bedroom, you just lie down on the bed when there is a knock at the door. At this late hour, only one person can arrive at your bedroom without the need for an announcement. You get up joyfully and jump forward to open the door.

Door opens. He is leaning against the doorframe, a dark blue suit slung over shoulder, few buttons of shirt undone and tie already loosened. He holds a bottle of wine in the other hand, but isn't drunk. Katniss and Peeta still need him, he cannot be drunk yet.

"I was thinking you wouldn't come." You say in mock annoyance, crossing arms over chest and not letting Haymitch in directly.

He eyes you teasingly when hearing that. "Why?"

"Sponsors for District 12 must be lining up right now, eager to send gifts into the arena."

He laughs. "Not that exaggerated. Even so, my number-one sweetheart still has the privileges."

Satisfied with this answer, you smile and pull on his tie, dragging him into the room as he closes the door behind.

You walk to the loveseat. He tosses suit aside and slumps down. You sit beside him, legs on the couch, cradling the hand he's not holding the drink and resting your head against his shoulder.

"No guards from downstairs to here, it's quite unsafe." He says, raising the bottle to drink, but you snatch it away and take a swig. His hand hovers in the air for a moment, head twisting to look at you in mild surprise.

"No need for that; you're taking the private elevator. I purposely don't arrange for anyone. Unless, of course, that dangerous person - is you." After swallowing the liquid in the throat, you reply. It's not his usual favorite hard stuff.

"How do you know I'm not? I am a victor, after all."

You look into his eyes, gaze moving from brows to nose and then to his lips. You think that he is no different from when you first met nine years ago, except for a bit of grayish stubble on the chin. But you really like the feeling of it brushing against inner of the thighs when he eats you out. Just thinking about it makes you clench your legs involuntarily and get a bit wet.

Nine years ago, you were in the University. One day at the party with friends, someone suddenly said that he had gotten a so-called 'uncensored' tape of the second Quarter Quell. Everyone was exceptionally excited. The rules of that one was different from usual, as each district had to send double tributes. But for some reason, the video of 50th Hunger Games was rarely shown publicly, and the widely available version was heavily edited. It was said that the original version was much more watchable, much gorier, and exciting, so you and your friends watched it together in a home theater.

At the beginning of the tape, sixteen-year-old Haymitch did not cry like most non-Career; instead, he walked up to the stage with steely eyes. Coupled with black curly hair and silver-gray pupils, he appeared surprisingly handsome. Once stood on the stage, he looked fondly into the crowd as camera cut to a woman and a young boy, then - a girl.

The subsequent parade was quite dull. He was a lone ranger in training center. After the Games began, initially he was on his own, then met one female tribute from the same district and dutifully protected her. Later, he encountered three Careers. Although had not been specifically trained for the Games, he still managed to kill two of them, which made you see him in a different light. What truly changed your perception of Haymitch was the final showdown, where he used the arena's force field to kill the final opponent - so clever. You seemed to have a hard time not falling for such a handsome, brave, committed and intelligent victor. The 65th Games was coming up, and you decided to find a chance to meet him then.

On the first day of the 65th Games, you wore a dove-gray strapless dress and a simple pearl necklace to the banquet hall, where mentors would be here to pull in sponsors for their tributes. You wore light makeup, and purple hair was simply styled in curls, no wig. You might be the least Capitol-like person here, not even taking various injections into the face or alternate body like the others. Most of the sponsors in the room were gathered around the mentor from District 4, which had sent an exceptionally good-looking boy this year, who also got high scores in his private session. Before the Games even began, all your friends had already become his loyal followers.

You looked around for your target and immediately spotted him sitting alone on a large couch, staring blankly at a glass of wine in hand. You were struggling to endure the high heels, so felt a bit relieved to be able to sit down.

You scooted small steps towards him and were about one foot away when he noticed you, his eyes scanning you up and down. Your heartbeat began to race and as you came to sit beside him on the couch, you said, "Mind me joining you?"

He raised the eyebrows, "Of course not." You beckoned an Avox to come over, hesitating a little at the various drinks on the tray in his hand. At this point, you naturally took the glass from Haymitch's hand and took a sip—it's whiskey—then handed it back and took the same thing for yourself. Looking over at Haymitch, you found him staring at you. Then he took a sip as well, lips just covering the spot where you left lipstick mark on the edge of glass.

"District 12 is off to a good start this year." You've dated boys, but never been with a man and didn't know how to approach him. In the past, scrawny tributes from District 12 mostly died in the bloodbath. While the girl didn't survive long either in this Games, the boy made it to the evening of the first day, which is a good sign, so complimenting his district might be a good choice.

"Perhaps. But it seems Capitol already has its favorite." He nodded towards the crowd surrounding the mentor from District 4.

You followed his gaze but said, "I believe that the scenery is better on the road less traveled."

You soon arrived at the door of the Hotel Suites. This was the most luxurious hotel in the Capitol, conveniently located near the game center, probably to make it easier for sponsors to get a more in-depth sales pitch from mentors for their tributes.

Haymitch stood close behind you, one hand on your ass. You could feel his wet, hot breath brushing against the back of your exposed neck. Your hand trembled slightly as pulling out the room key from clutch. Door opened with a 'beep'. He wasted no time, almost pushing you into the room.

After the door shut, you immediately turned around, wrapping arms around his neck and forcefully pressing lips to his. His lips were already slightly parted, inviting your tongue to enter. Your tongue slipped into his mouth and explored hungrily, sweeping across palate and licking teeth before tangling with his tongue. His grabbed and squeezed your ass. You withdrawn the tongue, luring him to follow into your mouth. There was much saliva, but for some reason, the sounds of kissing made you get more aroused.

You pressed tightly against him, feeling the hard erection against the small of your abdomen. You couldn't help but stop kissing and started moaning. He took the opportunity to bite your lower lip and tug it lightly, moving his hands from your ass to back and unzip the long dress. You stepped back to slip out of the gown and kicked it aside in high heels. Without a bra, your breasts were fully exposed to summer air.

Haymitch raised an eyebrow and smirked at the show. In the next moment, he took one nipple in mouth, licking and tweaking it. Of course, he wouldn't ignore the other one, pinching it between fingers while mouth sucked harder. You gasped involuntarily, threading your fingers through his hair and pressing his head against your tits, a clear signal that you don't want him to stop. He understood, moan escaping from deep in his throat in approval.

His mouth moved to the other side, sucking eagerly as hand trailed down to your stomach, eventually reaching the destination - between your legs. Two fingers slid along your folds. "Shit, you're so wet. Do you always get this wet for all the victors?" He paused the attention on your breasts and lifted head to talk to you. Hot breath sprayed over your nipples, making you shiver.

"No, just you. I think I've been wet for you for a while." You looked down directly into his eyes and replied. It was truth.

"Then it will be a waste if not to taste you." He said matter-of-factly, standing up and pinning you against the corner by the door. Knowing what was about to happen, you spreaded your legs openly. "Please."

He pecked a kiss on your lips, then ran tongue from your jaw to the hollow of neck, leaving a trail of kisses between your breasts and down the abdomen. Your shut eyes in pleasure.

He dropped to the knees, smoothly draping one of your legs over his shoulder as lips move to your pelvis. "Can you take off your shirt?" You opened eyes suddenly, seeing his curious look, and added, "It doesn't seem fair that I'm the only one naked." He smiled and nodded knowingly, pulling back to remove his suit jacket. As he dealing with his shirt, you reached one hand toward your thighs, fingering the clit slowly.

"Stop, I'm the only one who can make you come tonight." He commanded while undoing the buttons. "First with my tongue, then my cock."

You seemed to get even wetter at this and obediently stop the movements. After stripping off his shirt, he kneeled between your legs again, resting your right leg on his shoulder. You placed one hand on the back of his head and looked down at him. He held your left thigh with one hand while sliding index finger from your clit to entrance with the other. He lifted his gaze to meet yours, slid finger inside, then covered your clit with mouth, swirling tongue around it. You almost imperceptibly began to wiggle hips along with the movements of his tongue.

"Ah," You arched back and gasped. He licked harder, adding another finger to pump in and out. His head prevented you from closing your legs. "Haymitch -" You moaned. Then he alternated between sucking and licking your clit, his fingers moving faster inside you. You involuntarily grabbed his head and pressed it between your legs to fuck his mouth. You got even wetter. "Yes, yes, just like that." You pleaded. He responded with a hum, sending tremors through that bud. The quiet room was filled with your gasps and whimpers, only a little louder than the sound of his tongue and lips sliding between your wetness. His back beneath your legs grew hotter, covered in a fine sheen of sweat.

Your breathing became rapid as pleasure suddenly surged between thighs. Just then, Haymitch took your clit into his mouth firmly, hands supporting your trembling legs. Now the stimulation was overwhelming - you tried to push his face away but only made him suck harder. "Haymitch!" you cried out as clutched at his soft curls, "Ah, I'm coming." Your whole body shuddered as inside clenched around his fingers. He didn't stop, dutifully kept going until your orgasm subsides before withdrawing fingers and licking into your pussy to clean up the gushing wetness.

Once your body calmed down, he pulled back and wiped his mouth with hand, then rubbing it on pants before standing up. You were still panting heavily, limbs weak and barely able to stand straight. He wrapped an arm around your waist and gave you a kiss. You just responded lazily and could taste yourself on his tongue. "You taste so good," he murmurs against your lips, and you smiled. "I can't wait to feel you come on my cock."

"I can't stand now." you said. He picked you up and carried you to bed, tossing you onto it. On one side of the bed was a floor-to-ceiling window, with one-way glass overlooking the cityscape, and the other side faced with a large full-length mirror. He took off your high heels that had tormented you for so long, then turned on the bedside lamp. You spread your legs toward the mirror and could see slickness on pubes glistening in the light.

He walked to the opposite side of the bed. As you started to turn around, his voice dropped into a commanding low growl. "No, face the mirror and get on your knees." The firmness in his tone sent another throb through your still oversensitive clit. Obediently, you positioned yourself on all fours and looked into the mirror. He unbuckled the belt, then yanked down pants and underwear altogether. His thick, swelling erection poked out from the dirty pubic hair, up against the lower abdomen. You swayed your ass slutly.

He swallowed hard, then took off shoes and immediately got on the bed as well. His large palms grabbed and kneaded the round flesh of your ass eagerly. You closed your eyes and let out a soft moan, instinctively arching back into his touch. Suddenly, a sharp slap echoed, sending the stinging pain across one side of cheeks. You flinched and gasped, but he bent down and kissed there. The pain quickly melted into pleasure.

He repeated the same on the other side, and slid the thumb into your slickness, groaning as he felt how soaked you were. "Seems like you're enjoying," he murmured.

"Stop teasing me." You huffed impatiently.

He grinned at that and gave his cock a few firm strokes, then grabbed it in hand to glide the head gently up and down your ass. It brushed against the slick precum beading at his tip. You lowered upper body even more, presenting yourself in anticipation. When he finally pushed in, both of you released sighs of relief. Between assignments and exams, it had been a while for you to date - let alone sex.

He was thicker and bigger than any guy you had ever been with before. He slowly thrust into the halfway, pulled back a bit then buried completely. "You're so tight." he gritted through clenched teeth.

You were kind of proud and asked in mock innocence, "Do I feel good?"

"I'll show you how good I feel," he said, slamming hard. "It'll feel even better when you come inside me." You half moaned, half gasped as he growled low and started fucking you in earnest. You were soaked that there was no resistance to his movements at all. You looked up and locked eyes with him in the mirror; he hooked the hands under your thighs, pulling you frantically towards his pelvis. The lewd watery sounds of his cock going in and out drove you wild. You slipped one hand down to where your bodies connected, cupping his balls in palm and massaging gently. He gasped in surprise and slowed the pace. "Yeah, I like that."

"Fuck me harder, ah—" you demanded impatiently. He immediately pounded you more violently. Each time, he would pull the head to the entrance, then slammed it back all the way in. Your slick lips pressed against his pubic hair, his balls slapping rhythmically against your thighs. Although this felt good, your clit craved attention. Your hand moved to rub it, fingertips occasionally brushing his dick slick with your arousal. "Good girl, touch yourself for me." He moaned.

Your cries grew louder as the hand supporting your body began to go limp. Eventually you could only collapse onto the bed, but he still held onto your ass. After a few minutes, he wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted your upper body, so your back was pressed against his chest. He didn't stop; seeing your bouncing tits in the mirror, he grabbed them in hands to knead. You moaned as your fingers tangled in his hair while the other hand still moved between your legs. His tongue licked over your earlobe, "Want me to rub your clit?" You squeezed your eyes shut, barely managing to reply, "No, just pinch my nipples. Please." He immediately twisted your nipples, both thumbs pressing down and circling them. "Mmm..." you wiggled your ass in rhythm with his fingers.

But he always slipped out in this position, and after the fourth time he pulled out. "No -" you just began to protest at the sudden emptiness without him, but he pushed you onto the bed and flipped you over. He spread your thighs, grabbed a pillow to prop under hips, and without wasting any time, thrust back inside. This angle allowed him to go even deeper, and you could feel every inch of him.

He leaned down to swallow your cries. You grabbed his veined forearms with both hands, only able to tangle his tongue mindlessly in the intense pleasure. When he slid hand down between your bodies, you clenched inside around him, had to push his face away and screamed into the air. "Don't stop. Don't stop."

"You like that dick? Huh? You fucking like that dick?" He asked with a growl.

"I love it, so much, don't stop." You closed your eyes and shook your head from side to side begging him.

"Open your eyes. Look at me," His tone left no room for refusal.

You struggled to open them; his gaze was wild. Neatly styled hair became disheveled under your eager rubbing. Sweat dripped from his hairline to chin. He lowered his head to take one nipple in mouth. You moaned and played with the other, with legs tightening around his waist.

After a while, he released your nipple and pressed lips against your breast. His movements grew erratic. "I - ah – gonna come."

You squeezed him tighter and said, "Come for me." With an embarrassingly loud moan, he thrust hard a few more times. His cock was pulsing inside as he filled you up. The sensation was incredibly intoxicating. He collapsed onto you gasping for air, but you didn't mind the weight of his body at all, even like it. He lifted his head to kiss you, and you respond languidly. He pulled out and rubbed the length between your folds. Semen flowed down your thigh and the head brushed against your clit made you break the kiss.

As if remembering something, Haymitch propped himself up, grabbed the shaft and flicked your clit with the tip. "Shit." You pushed at him, but he instinctively grabbed both of your wrists. The pleasure between legs built higher and higher. You closed your eyes and stopped resisting. The hotel had great soundproofing, so you screamed loudly without any worries. "Theretherethere!" A flash of white light burst behind your eyelids, and you cried out, arching your back as he pressed you back down and hastily thrust his semi-hard cock inside again. Feeling the rapid contractions of your pussy, he let out a soft moan.

You both panted heavily, chests rising and falling rapidly. He planted several kisses casually on your neck and face before getting up from the bed and walking into the bathroom. The sound of running water came from inside. A few minutes later, he returned with a wet towel. Seeing his softened cock sway with each step, you were surprised at how quickly you could become aroused again. But there were more important matters at hand, so you thought, next time - next time you wanted to find out how many rounds he could go in one night.

He cleaned you up with the warm, wet towel. You were so touched by his thoughtfulness, reaching out to let your fingers glide across his chin. "You can tell them that I will pay for all the gifts."

He stopped what he was doing and looked at you. "Thanks."

However, as soon as the parachute landed in the arena, the Careers hunting at night slit the throat of the male tribute from District 12.

Ever since then, if the tributes from District 12 are not eliminated at the very beginning of the Games, you send gifts every year.

"Thank you." He turns his head slightly, pressing his lips in your hair as he says.

"For what?" You asks curiously, tilting your head up to look at him.

"Thank you for sponsoring District 12. Katniss has already gotten the ointment." You secretly breathed a sigh of relief, withdrawing one of the hands holding him and moving to rub his crotch. Then you kneel on the ground to unbuckle his belt and pull out the shirt tucked into his waistband. "I thought I was the one who should be thanking you." Haymitch raises an eyebrow in amusement, lifting his hips considerately as you help pull down his pants. He takes off his tie, then grabs the back of collar to pull the shirt off directly.

"I have the right to define my own rewards," You eagerly grasp the hot length and stroke it slowly. "And this is exactly what I want." One hand rest on his thigh while the other grips the shaft of his dick, you lick away the precum gathered at the tip, then swirl tongue around the head before sucking hard. "Fuck." He curses. You moan in response, looking up at him through long lashes. His eyelids flutter, like he's not sure whether to close them completely and enjoy, or just watch you suck his dick.

"I love your cock." You spit out the head and hover over it, saliva pooling in your mouth before you spit it onto the tip. "Yeah, that feels good" He closes his eyes again as you take him back in, swallowing more. He's big, but after these years, you get used to it. You lick the underside of the shaft, hands pumping the rest you cannot take. The wet sounds of his cock sliding in and out of your mouth filling the air.

Suddenly, you want to try something you haven't done much before.

You gently caress his balls, then swallow him as much as you can until the head hits the back of your throat. "That's it, do it again." You do it once more, gradually picking up speed and fucking your mouth with his dick. He instinctively thrusts up. You must hold him down to prevent choking. You suck your cheeks in hard, and a few minutes later, he says, "Stop, stop." You widen your eyes and his cock still in your hand - this must look funny. But he just laughs, "I love it, but there's no time for round two today. I want to come inside you."

You wipe your mouth clean with the back of your hand and climb onto his lap, straddling him. "Me too. I want to feel your cum dripping out of me." You murmur against his lips. He grabs your ass and stands up abruptly, your legs subconsciously wrapping around his waist. He carries you to the bed, lays you down, and then lies on his back. "Come on, use my cock to make yourself come."

You take off the nightgown and throw it on the floor. He spreads his legs, and you kneel on either side of his thighs, gripping the erection pressed against his abs and slowly lowering yourself down until his balls hit your ass. "You're so big…" You can't help but sigh, and he looks quite smug. "I've heard that before."

You don't respond, hands braced on his chest as rocking back and forth. The reward is instant - the coarse pubes rubbing against your clit sends mild pleasure. He tugs at your nipples, and you grind harder. "Oh God!" Suddenly, you scream out, stopping completely as you come hard on his cock. "Damn, that was fast." You're still too dazed from the orgasm to say anything.

You collapse forward onto him, lips brushing his ear. He grips your waist and thrust up to fuck you frantically. Even though you've just come and are still sensitive, you bite his earlobe and whisper, "Harder."

Haymitch tightens his arms, "You want me to fuck you harder." He says, slamming his pelvis into your ass passionately. "Yes." The only sounds in the room are the rhythmic slapping of flesh and your moans. You hazily licked the stubble on his chin; unexpectedly, he pushes you on the side to fuck in spooning style. He slips one hand between the mattress and your body to palm your tit, while the other lifts your leg to rub the clit. You grab his hair and whimper, turning your head back and searching for an open-mouthed kiss from him. For a moment, his fucking loses the rhythm but soon resumes. The familiar sensation erupts between your legs again, forcing you to let go of his lips and collapse onto the mattress with legs squeezed together. "No, I don't think I can -"

"I think you can, sweetheart. Come on, just give me one more." You scream as he pins you down on the bed, his arms braced on either side of your head, continuing to pound hotly. Your cries are muffled in the pillows when he suddenly stops and starts grinding in circles. "Haymitch…" You squeeze him tighter. He lets out a trembling moan. "Yeah, squeeze me like that again, good girl." You obey, and he leans down to whisper dirty words in your ear, talking about how much he wants to fuck your mouth, how much he loves your tight little pussy, and how he always cums so hard when he jerks off thinking about that time you squirted all over his dick, even made his balls dripping. "I'm gonna come." This finally pushes you over the edge. Your walls fluttering rapidly, milking out his orgasm.

"Shit." You can feel his cock pulsing inside, thrusting forward with each spurt of cum before becoming completely still. Gasping for air, you turn your head. Instead of pulling out right away, he kisses you tenderly. A few minutes later, he gets off you and lies on his back beside. "You okay?" He asks.

"Never been better." You answer with a smile.

District 12 has two victors all at once and this is your first time attending the celebration dinner at the president's mansion. Haymitch has been busy introducing Katniss and Peeta to all the dignitaries and sponsors, but you don't care about such socializing so stay away. After all, you come here only just to see him again.

Theoretically speaking, he should be happy. This is the first time he has truly achieved success since becoming a mentor. Perhaps it's just your illusion, but Haymitch looks worried.

You want nothing more than to feel joy and quickly shake off that thought. When he is finally on a break, you pull him to a dark corner where no one is around to kiss him. He hesitates at first but soon responds eagerly. And before long, both of you are panting and have to pull away.

You step back, gazing at his swollen lips under the dim light. "Guess we'll see each other again soon." Victory Tour in six months, Capitol is the final stop. He will accompany Katniss and Peeta back here. In the past, you could only see him during the Games when he came to Capitol for mentoring the tributes. Although you are a generous sponsor, you won't call Haymitch back at will like others do with Finnick Odair.

He doesn't say a word, just smiles and wipes away a hint of saliva from the corner of your mouth. "Congratulations, Star Mentor. I'm sure there will be more victors from District 12." You say hopefully.

His thumb brushes against your cheek, his face suddenly thoughtful. "Yeah, I think these games are gonna be different."

End.

☪English is not my first language, so all the mistakes are mine. ☪Likes, reposts and comments are much appreciated.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Regretevator hcs with party noob, mozelle, infected and lampert with reader slouched over and have bags under their eyes but insists that they are fine but after talking for a bit reader admits that they havent slept well in a while bc folly keeps giving them bad nightmares?

Could maybe end in them comforting reader and in the end they actually have a good nap in the elevator with them ((angst to fluff my beloved)))

You mentioned wanting Bive added so I'll make sure she's on there!

.......

Party Noob

They're always in the mood to party, of course, but you often seem annoyed by their kazoo constantly going off.

If anything, your attitude towards them is almost comparable to Pest--except you don't say rude things. You're just..quiet and seem tired 24/7.

You always politely turn down Poob's invitations--which makes them sad, although they would never force you to attend any celebration--insisting you were okay.

The bags under your eyes, however, showed otherwise, as they were products of the sleepless nights you've had ever since Folly decided to invade your dreams.

Poob doesn't know this, though, and when you're both alone in the elevator, they finally ask why you never go to their parties, wanting to know what they could do to change your mind.

Then you reveal something surprising:

"It's not you or your parties, Poob. It's....her."

"Her?"

You finally elaborate on Folly and her torment. In the physical world, she knew your fears...and in these past few nightmares she dialed them all up to 11.

Your latest one involved Poob killing you with their horn for daring to show up at their party "uninvited", which horrified the party goer after you finished explaining.

"Wut?! That's not true! You r ALWAYS welcomed to mah parties, friend!! That lady is such a party poober." They frown. "Is that why ur afraid to go to one?"

"Yeah, I'm sorr....wait, you've seen her, too?"

"Yeh! Lotsa times! She always says I'm "special", but...that doesn't sound like a gud thing."

"...haha. No, it's not." You shake your head, finding relief that they could relate to you.

Folly claimed that Poob was repressing a lot of trauma, and their party obsession was just a distraction from something bigger. But obviously you weren't going to believe her.

After that conversation, they're willing to invite you to a chill party at their apartment. There's no crazy loud music. Just TV, video games, sweets, and the company of a friend.

Mozelle

"You don't look so well, dear."

Despite her demonic origins, Mozelle is very concerned for the well-being of her fellow elevator passengers (or at least those who respect her), so she could tell you were far from okay.

You keep insisting that you're tired from exploring so many floors, and for a while she seemed to believe you...

Until one day, she invites you to her castle for tea, and chastises you for lying to a princess.

"It's that abhorrent "dream parasite" that's been giving you nightmares, is it?" She huffs, realizing she was right as your expression changes.

Knowing that she's not gonna hear any more of your excuses, you finally admit that Folly is the reason for your exhaustion.

You try to avoid sleeping for fear of her appearing...and she's well aware of this, as in the physical world she vowed to never let you sleep again.

That terrified you, and Mozelle wanted to throw hands with her SO badly after that.

But instead, she tries working her magic to ensure you got a good night's rest in one of her guest quarter.....with the distant screams of the damned somehow not deterring you from drifting off.

When you awaken, she teleports you to her pet sanctuary, allowing you to help her take care of the odd and cute creatures, and even take another nap with them. 100% nightmare free.

For a "princess of hell", she was certainly acting like a guardian angel.

Unfortunately, she can't protect you 24/7. But if you're both in the elevator, she'll manifest some comfy pillows and blankets just for you (and her, bc she needs her beauty sleep, too!)

Infected

Similarly to you, sleep doesn't come easy for Infected..and it certainly doesn't stick with him for long.

As a gamer, of course, he just doesn't feel like he needs it.

So anytime he saw you come into the elevator, slouched and with dark bags under your eyes, he just assumes you're an "epic gamer" like him who lives by the "sleep is for the weak" mantra.

It's only when you started taking naps in a random corner of the elevator did he express concerns.

"Wh4t h4ppened, bro? G4me t00 hard last night?" He asks. "Trying t0 st4y 0n th4t grind???"

".....no, I was too scared to even leave my bed and go on the computer.."

"0h man, th4t sucks. Why were y0u sc4red? Did the b00geyman visit?"

"......."

"N0 way, did he?? I w4s 0nly kidding-"

"She." You correct, before telling Infected a little about the nightmares Folly has given you these past few days.

But you're sure he's gonna call you crazy or say you're having too much sugar..

However, he can actually relate to some of your bizarre dreams, not realizing you saw the same figure he did.

His virus made him often refuse sleep, but she had some influence in his decision to pull all-nighters, too.

He tried hugging you and while you're adamant about catching his sickness, you accept it for a few moments.

Next time you stop by his floor, he'll let you crash at his apartment to take a nap (but no promises that he's gonna keep quiet while gaming).

Lampert

"Are you getting enough sleep? You don't look too good. And you shouldn't be laying on the elevator floor. It's dirty."

Dude doesn't beat around the bush. He gets right to the point.

You get a little annoyed with his rants about germs so you kinda brush off his concerns and try getting whatever sleep you can (often drifting off while he's rambling)...

Until the one time you jolted awake after Folly made you endure a rather frightening nightmare--and Lampert's the only one in the elevator.

But at this point, he manages to piece things together.

"Oh..is it that annoying dream thing? I haven't seen her ugly face in a while..and I hope I never do again." He huffs. "Sorry you gotta put up with her, [y/n]."

"I've...been managing." You rub your eyes. "I'll admit, you've got guts back-sassing her when she could haunt your dreams at any time."

"Well she's really just pathetic. All that power and she's only interested in dreams? She can't even do anything in the real world. How dumb is that?"

"..it does sound pretty dumb."

"Yeah, she'll move on eventually. She left my bulb when my dreams got too boring for her."

Although that's all the "comfort" Lampert is willing to provide, it's enough for you to realize how ridiculous Folly's fixations on your dreams are.

Next time you're at the ROKEA floor, he'll let you take a nap on one of the couches, but if and only if you promise not to leave any crumbs (or drool) and clean it up before leaving.

Bive

"You see them too, don't you????!!!"

"Wha...?"

"The crimson eyes! What else could I be talking about?" Bive stares at you, the exhaustion on your face being apparent to her.

She's noticed it for a while, in fact, but every time you'd just ignore her wild rants and "conspiracy theories".

Taking naps in the elevator wasn't really an option when she was there, as her staring was uncomfortable and her constant needs to chatter/mumble to herself often kept you awake.

She's offered you coffee in the past, assuming you wanted to stay awake, only to stop after you told her that's the opposite of what you wanted.

After she mentioned "crimson eyes", that's when you realized she was aware of them, too. And aware of her.

When you decide to finally confide in her about your nightmares, Bive shudders and talks about having similar ones, but lately they've stopped...which she hopes is a good thing.

You learn she's terrified of going back to some placed called "The Lab"--likely where she was born--as Folly taunted her about that in the past.

Now you understand her attitude and mannerisms a bit more.

After talking, you feel slightly better, and you try to rest on the elevator floor-

Only for Bive to warn you about the "microscopic dust bunnies who don't like their space being impeded upon".

Will she stop you if you ignore her and fall asleep anyways? No. But she'll make sure nobody disturbs you.

Not that she'll ever tell you she's been keeping guard.

[gigabyte-flare]

Insatiable (Part 2)

Part 1

Summary: Your collages should have listened to you.

Word Count: 2k

Pairing: yandere plagas!Leon Kennedy x fem!reader (afab)

Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Actions depicted in this story are not condoned in real life. You are responsible for your own content consumption. If any of the following warnings trigger you, please read at your own risk. Minors do not interact, this story is 18+ only.

Warnings: Extreme violence and gore, biting, dubcon, forced breeding, gross las plagas-y things, death, mentions of un-aliving. DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

A/N: Huge shout out to @chanif-art who's artwork continues to inspire me and this story. I am completely blown away with how well part 1 was received. Thank you to everyone who's liked, reblogged, commented and even simply read it. I didn't do a tag list for this one because I think well over 50 people asked and I completely lost track. Anyway, I hope this meets your expectations! I was listening to Little Girl Gone while writing this... for some reason it just fits plagas!Leon.

“Honey, I’ve changed so much since I last saw ya.”

You open your eyes, finding yourself inside Leon’s cell. You dart your head around, looking frantically when you realize you’re chained to the chair, the same chair Leon had previously been chained to. You hear Leon chuckle, a low chilling sound as he walks up from behind you, taking long, slow strides. He turns to face you, you notice the black veins sprawling his body have gotten darker, his eyes more red. He grins as he kneels down to be at eye level with you, his four canine teeth noticeably sharp. He runs his tongue along his teeth.

“There you are, sweetheart. I didn’t think you’d wake up,” Leon says with a purr. 

Your eyes are wide, taking labored deep breaths before you attempt to struggle. Leon laughs, shaking his head.

“That won’t do you any good I’m afraid, but don’t worry, I’ll get you out of those chains so we can have some play time.”

Leon stands back up, walking back behind you. You hear him break the chains apart with his bare hands. You waste no time bolting out of the chair and to the door. No matter how much you pull, the door won’t budge. You turn around to find Leon standing directly behind you. He grabs you by the waist pulling you to him. You flail your arms at him, trying to fight him off. Out of the corner of your eye you see Bryan on the other side of the clear panel holding a clipboard, taking notes.

“Bryan?! Get me out of here! I’m trapped in here with him, please! He’s going to hurt me!”

Bryan lifts his head, shaking it, “the data you’ll provide from this is too valuable to pass up I’m afraid. We need to know if he’s capable of procreating with a un-infected human and what the offspring will look like.”

“WHAT?!” you scream, “Bryan have you lost your mind?!”

Completely ignoring your pleas, Bryan continues, “remember what we agreed on, Leon. You are not to infect her with the plaga until she gives birth. After that, you can do with her as you please.”

“I remember the agreement, you fucking prick,” Leon growls next to your ear before he licks your earlobe. 

“NO I DID NOT AGREE TO THIS BRYAN, YOU LET ME OUT OF HERE RIGHT NOW!” you continue to scream as you try to fight Leon off.

Leon, however, is much more powerful than you; he bites into your shoulder and makes short work of pinning you to the floor, his hands gripping your jeans and ripping them off you, leaving you with your pair of lace panties. You attempt to crawl across the floor towards Bryan, but Leon drags you back by your hips. Leon flips you over to face him, caging you with his body. He simply stares down at you, his smile wide. You watch as drool drips from his face onto your shirt, which he promptly rips apart to reveal your matching bra to him.

“Aren’t you just delicious to look at?” Leon says, licking his lips before locking his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss. 

To your horror, you’re returning his kiss, his hands grasping to both of your breasts. He pulls away after a couple minutes, sitting on his haunches as he pushes your legs apart, noting the dark spot that is now on your panties.

“Oh? You don’t want this? Then tell me why you’re so fucking wet, sweetheart?”

Leaning forward, he grabs your panties with his teeth, dragging them off you before tossing them aside. He then begins undoing the belt on his pants; before long he is pulling his hardening cock from his pants. He wastes no time climbing back on top of you, pushing himself inside you balls deep with ease. 

When the head of his cock kisses your cervix, your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out a soft moan. Leon growls, thrusting into you with an insatiable ferocity, causing you to grip his arms, scratching into them with your nails. You felt like he was fucking you for an eternity when he let’s out another growl, pressing into you as deep as he could possibly go. You feel your cunt clamp around his cock, milking his cum into your body.

Leon stares back down at you, his eyes and grin wide as he laughs maniacally.

You wake up screaming, covered in sweat and tears streaming down your face. You take deep breaths, laying your hand on your chest to ground yourself.

It was just a nightmare.

Once you get yourself calm, you climb out of bed and go into the kitchen of your apartment, making yourself coffee and some toast for breakfast. Afterwards, you get ready for work and head out the door. On your way, you decide to stop at the pharmacy. Walking the aisles, you find the feminine hygiene products, grabbing an ovulation test off the shelf and paying for it. Once you get to HQ, you trap yourself into one of the bathroom stalls, taking the test and waiting for the results. You watch in horror as a little smiley face shows up on the little screen, confirming your hypothesis.

You collect yourself before briskly walking into Bryan’s office. You don’t knock, you simply push the door open aggressively, startling both Bryan and the researcher he’s meeting with, you think his name is Pierce.

“I am not going back down there, Bryan,” you say sternly. 

Pierce shifts uncomfortably in his seat before standing up to leave, “I’ll go check on the camera feed downstairs.”

You and Bryan stare at each other as the door swings shut. Bryan rubs his eyes.

“Not this again, I’m sorry but I need you to go down there, you’re still the only one Leon talks to. Is this about what happened yesterday? I assure you, we have taken extra precautions to ensure that doesn’t happen again.”

You stomp up to Bryan’s desk, slamming the positive ovulation test onto the desk. Bryan looks down at the test before looking at you and raising an eyebrow.

“The fuck is this?” he asks.

“I’m ovulating, this is why Leon keeps saying I smell good and wants to practically throw himself on me whenever I’m down there.”

“That’s absurd.”

“Can you think of a logical explanation, then? I’m all ears.”

“This is not up for debate, you are going to continue working with Leon; that’s an order!”

Suddenly, the lights go dim before red emergency lights come on followed by a loud, screeching alarm.

“What the hell?!” Bryan exclaims, looking around confused.

You’ve never heard this alarm during your entire time at D.S.O., you rack your brain around what it could mean when suddenly, Pierce bursts into the office.

“Pierce! What the hell is going on out there?!” Bryan asks.

“Kennedy’s escaped, sir!”

Leon opens his eyes and lifts his head, looking around his cell. Deep down he was seething in rage; he had gotten so close to getting out of this chair and having his way with you. Now, his chair had reinforced steel plating welded to it and they strapped a god damn muzzle onto his face. He could see he now had two men with guns guarding the door at all times. 

Fucking beautiful.

He tested the chains again, but found they had been tightened recently, angering him even more. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and hoped he would see you today. He hated the thought of you seeing him like this, but he desperately wanted to see you and inhale your sweet, sweet scent.

Out of nowhere, an excruciating pain jolts down Leon’s spine, causing him to cry out and writhe in his chair. His four canine teeth grow sharper, his fingers turning black and now taking on a claw-like appearance and a new, sharp appendage was peaking out of his lower back. The guards turned around to look at Leon. They immediately unlock the door and come into this cell to check on him. Leon stops writhing, slumping over in his chair, pretending to be passed out. One guard stays by the door, facing away from them while the other comes over to check on Leon, checking the chains to make sure they’re in place.

Unbeknownst to the guard closest to Leon, Leon’s new tail was extending from his back, coming around from behind the guard. It was very similar to a scorpion’s tail, but instead of a barb on the end, it looked like a blade. Within an instant, Leon’s tail wraps around the guard’s neck, snapping it instantly as four claw-like appendages burst from Leon’s back, breaking the chains holding his arms in place. Hearing the other guard fall to the floor the other guard turns around only to be faced with Leon, who is now up out of his chair and walking towards him, ripping the muzzle off his face, flashing a maniacal grin at the guard. The guard goes to shoot Leon but Leon is much faster, his tail whipping forward and impaling the man in the chest before flinging him aside. 

Leon strides out of his cell, looking down the hallway to see a pair of researchers coming down the hallway. Upon seeing Leon out of his cell, they start shouting at each other and turn to run in the opposite direction. Leon smiles, breaking into a sprint. He leaps, pinning one researcher to the ground with his body while his tail grabs the other by the waist, lifting him into the air.

“Where is she?!” Leon asks with a growl to the researcher he has pinned to the floor.

“Where’s who?!” the researcher stutters.

“Don’t play dumb with me! Where is she?!”

“Up-Upstairs! In Br-Bryan’s office!”

Leon’s mouth clamps down onto the researcher's neck, ripping out his throat as his tail squeezes the other until his spine snaps, falling to the floor as Leon lets him go. At that moment, all the lights dim before red emergency lights come on. Leon breaks back into a sprint to the elevator however, it was not working no matter how many buttons he pushed. He uses his tale to rip a hole into the ceiling, leaping up into it and climbing the elevator shaft. 

Once he reaches the top, he pries the elevator door open, swinging down, landing gracefully in the hallway. People are scrambling to get away from him, bumping and tripping over each other to run down the hallway. Leon’s red eyes scan the area, however, he sees no sign of you. More guards with guns show up, firing at him. His tale whips forward, deflecting their bullets with ease as he lunges forward. He impales one operative with his tail while his hand thrusts through the chest of another, gripping the man’s still beating heart in his claws before crushing it.

“Take her and get out of here!” he hears a man yell from down the hallway.

Leon’s attention is immediately drawn to the man that yelled, immediately recognizing him as Bryan. At one time, he liked the man, a brilliant scientist. Too bad he has to die. Leon watches as Bryan pulls out a pistol, firing shots at him. Again. Leon’s tail and back claws deflect the shots as he stands face to face with Bryan, his tail whipping around and decapitating the man with ease. He brings his tail’s blade to his lips, licking off the blood as he proceeds to walk down the hallway towards the entrance of HQ. 

A researcher is leading you out the front door, shoving you through the door with his back turned to Leon. He’s about to head out himself before Leon’s tail goes straight through his chest. Leon hears the man’s death gurgles as he flings him behind him, his body falling about 20 feet away with a loud thud. 

And there you are, cowering in the entry vestibule, your eyes locked on him, looking up and down his body. Leon straightens out his posture in hopes of making himself alluring to you, his tail whipping back and forth while his back claws flex. 

“Do you actually think you can escape me?” Leon coos, watching as you press your back as hard as you can into the glass doors as he comes closer.

“You never will, my love.” he continues with a grin, licking his sharp canines.

You stumble out of the door, bolting into the street and running as fast as you can to your car.

“I will find you.”

Part 3

[map1e-1stru3]

So I had a dream the other night, and it was about Skyblings and Ranchers. Of course.

I might make an actual AU about it, and so I am writing down all the small details for later. I also made the drawings because of that too! Naming it Hunted AU for now. :p

(Read about it below cut!)

So in my dream, Jimmy (Canary, you guessed it)lived in this avian tribe with his cousins Grian and Pearl (Scarlet macaw and Hyacinth macaw respectively), but one day he went out scavenging idk berries or something like that and he was spotted by humans(Who poach avians for their feathers and claws). He started to fly back to his tribe to warn them that they were found out but he was shot like, 3 times in the process.

He just barely makes it over the walls, tumbling face first into the ground, bleeding heavily, and everyone in the tribe starts panicking and fleeing and Pearl & Grian are the only ones to try to patch him up in a medical hut. But they were too slow, and as they were still taking out the arrows the hunters tracked them down, flanked with back-up. Grian, the oldest out of the three, tell Pearl to ‘See if anyone is outside that can help’, but they all know he wants her to flee while she can. Pearl resists at the start of course, but he forces her to follow the others flying away, escaping through the window.

When the hunters start banging on the door, Grian helps Jimmy hide in some barrels, making sure to chuck the bloodied mat out the window, discarding any evidence that anyone else was there.

He himself doesn’t have much time or space to hide, and in a moment of sacrifice he stands in the center of the room, giving himself up to save Jimmy. He did put up a fight with the poachers, but he gets captured anyways. Then, the hunters set the village on fire? For some reason? So Jimmy has to clamber out from his spot and starts running as fast as he could into the woods, as fast as an injured runt of an avian can, and finally collapses after 20 or so minutes of sprinting, in a cave somewhere.

But when he wakes, it is not in the cave. Because behold, he was saved by Tango! He is a blaze born, with a self made prosthetic leg, currently resided in an abandoned ranch building with no animals. When Jimmy sits up though, he notices he is missing his right wing.

Tango says it was infected really bad(Jimmy was shot there prior. Ig some time has passed after he passed out?) and he had no choice but to cut it off. And so, their companionship begins, mildly begrudging, but both of them can’t really do much about it. Jimmy is in search of his tribe, if there are still any left, and Tango? I can’t remember. I think he was running from the law. Or something.

That is where the dream ended, but damn, it was really detailed and interesting! And just… When Grian was making Jimmy hide and the way he dropped the nickname and started calling him ‘Jimmy’, his voice shaking, and the visual of Jimmy looking up at him, eyes hazy, breath labored from pain.. asking ‘But what about you?’ just….. I don’t know.

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII

Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: @weakling-grace did some fanart for the series that I absolutely adore! And I want you all to look at it. It’s on her blog, or reposted on mine under the tag How about a nuke? Summary: The wound’s infected. It shouldn’t be, but here you are anyway, barely holding on to life. You make it as far as you can and then it’s up to him to decide whether you get to live or die.

“Have I told you yet that you are the most gorgeous woman in this room?” You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face even if you tried. 

“Only about a dozen times.” His hand reaches for yours across the table and you take it eagerly, linking your fingers together and enjoying the way his hazel eyes linger on yours. You could get lost in them, as cliche as it sounds. You and about every other woman in the world fell in love when you first saw those smiling eyes on the silver screen. 

“I’ll just have to tell you a dozen more.”

God, you would swoon if you could. But, unfortunately, you are in the middle of a very nice restaurant and you’re sure they wouldn’t enjoy your fainting spell. It’s not like you could help it, he was so effortlessly charming, everything he said with that rasping accent of his sounded like music to you. 

Your smile slipped slightly when you caught two women staring at you both. They weren’t even trying to hide it, pointing and whispering behind their hands. You clenched your jaw, trying your best not to let the anger show on your face. But he caught it anyway. 

Cooper dropped your hand and tucked his back in his lap. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, they caught his eye and gasped, stopping their cruel whispers. You opened your mouth to try and make him feel better but he interrupted you, “Hey-”

“I told you this was gonna happen sweetheart.” You hated how sad he sounded, how resigned he was to his new place in life. It was no secret that most of your fellow actors despised him now just because he did a few ad campaigns for Vault-Tec. But that didn’t mean the rest of the world did. There were still plenty of people who adored Cooper and asked for his autograph. 

Granted, those ladies clearly weren’t fans, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if you got spotted together in public and rumors started up again. You didn’t care what that meant about future roles. “I want to be with you, Coop, but I can’t keep having this same conversation over and over again.” You sighed and finally drew your hand back to yourself, he tracked the movement like a hawk. 

“If this is too much,” you forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat and put on a stilted smile. “If being with me in the public eye is too much then maybe we should-”

“Enough,” he reached back over and forced his hand into yours. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you.” He stopped you before you could interrupt him, giving you a knowing smile. “I know that you don’t care what being around me does to your career, but I do. There’s no reason for the both of us to be washed up celebrities.”

“Hey, you’re not washed up, plenty of people still want to see you on the silver screen.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He squeezed your hand once before letting go and picking up his fork, “Let’s just enjoy our meal, sweetheart.”

“Pick up the pace! I’m not gonna wait for you forever, sweetheart.”

You glared at him and leaned on a tree for support. You’re not sure what’s going on. You feel hot under your skin but also like you’re freezing, you’d thrown up twice during night watch and you’re about five seconds away from keeling over. 

Your sweaty palm slips against the bark and you go sliding over. You hear his boots stomping through the grass before they stop in front of you. Rough hands steady your shoulders and shove you upright again. His eyes rove across your face, the muscles above his eyes turning down in concern. 

“Shit, you look like,” he trailed off, “well, to be perfectly honest you look like shit.”

You laughed but it came out strangled and he flinched back in disgust when you started coughing. “Good to know you’re still a gentleman, Cooper.” 

He sighed and led you over to a rotted log. You threw yourself down on it, wincing as it jarred your sensitive stomach. The gash was aching a lot more than it should. 

When you’d been shot, you could barely even feel it by this point. Now the wound was burning, itching so bad you just wanted to rip the stitches out with your bare hands. Your head rolls back and you clench your eyes shut as another wave of nausea goes through you. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, rattling like a hummingbird in a cage. 

He kneels in front of you and reaches for your shirt. You lean back on your hands to give him better access. “Stimpak should have worked by now,” he mutters. He pulls your shirt higher up on your abdomen and hisses through his teeth. 

“What is it?” Your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth and the words come out garbled. 

“Shit!” He yanks your shirt down and reaches for your bag, digging through it until he finds another one of the Stimpaks you’d taken. 

You’d be more panicked if your head wasn’t floating right now. “What is it?” He doesn’t answer you, he hovers the injector over his mouth and lets the medicine shoot in. You wince when he immediately turns to spit it into the grass. 

He wipes the back of his mouth and chuckles. “Should’ve fucking known,” he mutters. He goes through the rest of the supplies you’d grabbed and starts chucking them further into the forest. 

You’re getting pissed off now. Pissed off and worried, you just needed him to talk to you, tell you what’s going on. “Cooper!” You snap, hand clutched over the burning wound on your stomach. He sighs and looks up at you. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Fakes,” he says, mouth set in a firm line and eyes hard against your worried gaze. “See, darlin’, some people like the men we met last night hand out fake supplies.” If you weren’t so worried you’d be mad about how condescending he sounds. 

“They take empty injectors and fill ‘em with chems to keep people sick and coming back to them. It’s a steady income,” he says, like it’s a respectable career. “Your wound is infected, probably only worsened by whatever chem they put in the Stimpak I stuck you with.”

Your eyes are wide with horror. You can’t decide what’s worse, that you’ve essentially been poisoned and are probably experiencing sepsis right now. Or that people were capable of being so cruel and profited off of it. He pulls your canteen out of your bag and unscrews the cap. He holds the water up to your nose, “Sniff.” You do and he waves his hand, prompting you to tell him what exactly you smelled. 

“Smells like metal,” you shrug, not sure what that means. 

“Infected and you’ve got rad poisoning.” At your confused glance he continues, “Water’s not purified either, sweetheart. Whatever you got is about to get a hundred times worse.” When he turns his back to put the water back in your bag you finally risk a glance down at your stomach. 

You wished you hadn’t because you’re immediately bending over to throw up what was left of your rations. The skin has swelled over the stitches, practically swallowing the black thread. The place the knife went in is red and puckered, pus forming at the corners. The sides of your stomach have an odd green tint that you’re trying not to think about too hard, most likely a side effect of whatever chem you’d been dosed with. 

He presses the canteen into your hand and you shake your head from where it is between your knees. “Can’t, radiation.”

He laughs, the sound unkind, “It’s a bit late for that, honey.” You snatch the water out of his hand and gulp down as much as you can stomach. It’s not much, the taste of the water is too metallic and bitter for you. “The place we’re going, they’ve got medicine. We get you there and I’m sure I can work something out with them.”

You know what that really means. He’ll get paid for his bounty and then he’ll get what he wants, whether they offer it freely or not. “If I get there,” you mutter, still holding back the rest of your breakfast. 

“Enough,” he snaps. His hand wraps around your elbow and he yanks you to your feet. “We need to get a move on, power through.” If you had the strength, you’d slap him again. 

“Here you go,” he placed a bowl down on the coffee table, steam still wisping over the edge. He sat down beside you on your couch and brushed some hair away from your face and you leaned into the warmth of his palm. You were freezing but he seemed to think you were burning up. 

“Did you make me soup?” Your voice is groggy with sleep. He helps you into a sitting position and hands you the bowl. 

“No,” he laughs a little and leans back against the cushions, arm spreading out behind you and pulling you into him. “But I warmed it up for you.”

“Cooper,” you whisper. 

“Get a move on!” He shouts from a couple yards ahead. “You either move your ass or I’ll leave you here, because I’m sure as shit not carrying you.”

Oh shit. 

Hallucinating is never a good sign. You would swear on everything above that you were just on your couch with Cooper. You could still feel the warmth of the bowl in your hands, the old plush fabric of your couch on your cheeks. 

You swallowed down bile and did your best to catch up to him. You blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the fog over your eyes, but it didn’t help much. It took you a minute to realize it was from the sweat dripping down your brow and burning against your retinas that was causing the problem. 

You glanced around, surprised to find yourself surrounded by sand. Weren’t you just in the forest? You lifted a shaking hand to try and get rid of the glare of the sun. He was walking closer to you now, keeping a keener eye on you. You trip over your own feet for the inth time and try to keep pushing yourself. 

“Any chance we could dim those?” You squint and point up to the lights hanging above the set and one of the PA’s runs off to fulfill your request. You shake your boots out, tired of all the sand that’s been getting in them. You understand you’re meant to be chasing an outlaw through the “Wild West” but this is getting ridiculous. 

You’ve done about a hundred retakes of this scene, you’re not sure when the director is going to admit defeat but you hope it’s soon. You don’t know why the studio is even bothering to do cowboy stuff anymore. Everyone knows since Coop was forced out of the industry no one’s wanted to see these types of movies. 

The actor you’re working with this time is a dick. He’s commanding and rude, he’s got no sense of boundaries either. Or a nose. 

What the fuck?

He stands over top of you and you finally realize that you’ve collapsed into the sand. You let your head fall back and rub your forehead. One second you’re on a set and the next you’re in the Wastelands at the end of the world. You’re struggling to remember which version of reality is real and which isn’t. 

“I mean it,” he threatens, “I ain’t carrying you.” Your hand flops uselessly to your side, muscles fatigued and the burning in your gut sucking the energy out of you. The only part of yourself you’re physically aware of is the stab, you can’t feel anything else. You can’t twitch your toes or wiggle your fingers, everything is off kilter. “Alright then,” he leans down and yanks your arm over his shoulder. 

Before you’re processing what’s happening the world is being tilted on its axis and you’re being hauled to your feet. You don’t remember much about traveling through the sands. Everything is one long blur of red and orange. When the air in front of you starts to get wavy your eyes lose focus and you black out.

She nearly made it. They’re only about an hour away from this compound he’s been trying to get her to. He sighs, looking down at her prone form in the sand. There’s sweat beading along her forehead, her lips are cracked and split and her face has an unusual tint to it that can’t mean anything healthy. 

He squats down next to her and debates how he wants to go about this. The wound on her stomach has only gotten worse since they started walking, it’s just looking angrier and angrier. With how infected it is, it’s possible that even a stimpak might not help her now. 

He could leave her here, get the bounty, and go on his merry way. He could shoot her, put her out of her misery and leave. Or he could throw her over his shoulder and walk the last hour to the compound, hoping that whatever they have there will help. No matter what choice he makes, it’s her life in his hands. 

His hand drifts forward, brushing the hair off her cheek and lingering on the soft skin there. He sighs before scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder, she whines, her wound rubbing against his shoulder and probably causing her a heap of pain. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, though, as long as she was feeling something that was a good sign. 

“Nearly there, sweetheart,”; he muttered. He tuned into her shallow breathing, the long pauses before her next breath and let that be what keeps him going. She better not fucking die on him. He grunts, shifting her higher up on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around her legs. 

He could feel how hot she was through each layer of their clothing. This was more than just the sun, she seemed like she was about to combust. “Cooper,” she whimpers. He frowns, she’s been muttering to herself since they left the forest. Talking about things that weren’t possible. 

He’s seen it before, with infection or rad poisoning, the hallucinations start pretty early. Only problem is, he’s never met anyone who lasted as long as her. She should have been dead hours ago. He has no idea what’s keeping her going, but she better fucking hold onto it. 

You laughed, your dress swirling around your legs like a blooming red flower as he spun you through the room. His hand wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back into his chest. You smiled at him and he reached up to brush the hair out of your face. 

Sinatra’s smooth voice cracked and then began to stutter. You laughed again but Cooper just rolled his eyes and walked over to fix the record. You smoothed out your dress and sat down on his couch, reaching for his glass of whiskey on the table. 

You took a sip, hoping for some liquid courage, and regretted it. You’d momentarily forgotten your distaste for alcohol. You tried to fight the tickle in your throat but failed, you probably ruined your lipstick with how hard you started to cough. 

He walked over to you and chuckled, taking his glass from your hands and stealing a swig. “Can’t handle your liquor, honey?”

“I can,” you wiped your mouth and gave him a playful glare. “That just tastes absolutely disgusting.” He smiled and took a seat beside you, arm draped behind you. He crossed a leg over his knee and titled himself to face you. You found yourself taking a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the question you were going to ask.

“Everything alright?”

You glanced down at your dress and fiddled with the hem of it. “I know the divorce was finalized a few days ago,” Cooper looked away from you, his face hardening, and reached forward to place his glass back on the table. Your heart leapt into your throat at the way he slammed it down. Maybe this was a mistake. 

You know when Barb came over to pick up Janey yesterday they’d gotten into a fight. You didn’t know what exactly it was they fought about, you’re pretty sure it had to do with you. But it didn’t truly matter. She always found a way to rile him up. You’d been hoping that coming by tonight might make him feel a little better,  but he still seemed to have a residual tenseness to him. 

Bringing the divorce up after one of their fights isn’t smart. But you need to talk about this and he’s been avoiding the conversation for a while now. 

He ran a hand down his face and sighed, “What about it?” 

“I was just wondering what that means for us?”

He scoffed and glanced over at you. The look he’s giving you, you’re certain the fight was about you now. He’s never looked this angry with you, “For us?” You nodded and he shook his head, standing up and heading towards his room. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes burning as he slammed the door to his room without another word. You let your head fall into your hands and took a few deep breaths. You knew you shouldn’t have asked that. 

“That was a mistake,” you muttered. 

“The hell are you telling yourself back there?” Your eyes peeled open and you frowned, you seemed to be looking at something that looked a hell of a lot like Cooper’s backside. You tilted your head to the side to find the world upside down and something stabbing repeatedly in your stomach. 

You clawed your way up Cooper’s jacket, shakily holding yourself up so you could stare down at him. “Settle,” he warns, like you’re a damn horse. 

“Put me down,” you mutter, weakly kicking out your feet and trying to get off of him. He just shakes his head and shoves you back down. You let him, not having much fight left in you anyway. 

“Just,” he pauses, “keep dreamin’,” the words seem to pain him and you wonder why. You don’t linger on it long, letting your head hang against his back before the world is going dark again. 

She keeps muttering Cooper in her sleep. He knows what she’s thinking about. Their old times together, when everything was just dandy and the world was as sweet as peaches. Well, he wasn’t some saint back then neither. He had his own problems, vices, same as any man. 

Only difference between then and now is that he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Doesn’t have to worry about the public’s opinion or how his job will be affected if he speaks his mind. Cooper’s no better than the Ghoul. 

He sighs, barely even believing himself. She whimpers in her sleep, the noise strangled and pained. He squeezes her leg, barely even noticing the action, in an attempt to bring some minute form of comfort. She never should have dived in front of that blade, it was stupid of her. 

Course, she couldn’t have known that he would have healed, it’s not like he ever told her that. But she shouldn’t have risked it anyway, he wasn’t worth her dying for.

He can see a large building about a mile ahead as he crests the ridge of the dune he’s walking on. The compound, nearly there. “Hold on,” he’s not sure who he’s talking to but it doesn’t matter. She’s made it this far, she’ll make it a few more minutes.

“Stop right there!” Only one armed guard comes out from behind the gate of the compound. He scoffs, fucking amateurs. He drops her to the ground at his feet with as much care as he can, which isn’t a lot. Slowly, he raises his hands as the guard approaches, the tip of his rifle pressing into the hardened skin of his chest. “State your business.”

Well, someone liked making themself feel important, he was gonna have a field day beating this boy black and blue. For now, he simply smiled at him, unbothered by the gun. “I’ve got a bounty to deliver.”

“Alright, hand it over.” He reached into his pockets and the boy’s trigger finger twitched dangerously. He pulled out the only thing they’d wanted from the body, dog tags, and held them out for the boy to take. He darted forward, trying to snatch them but he yanked them out of the guard’s grip. 

He lunged, wrapping a hand around the barrel of the rifle and yanking it out of the kid’s hands. He tucked the tags back in his pocket and pointed the barrel into the boy’s chest. His face blanched and he held up his shaky hands. “Not so big now, are you?” He kept the gun trained on him and leaned down to scoop her back up. 

She was just cognizant enough to wrap an arm around his shoulder, keeping herself steady. “My friend here needs help. So help me boy, I swear if you fight me, I’ll slaughter everyone in that fucking place and just take what I want.”

He poked the gun into the boy’s chest and he jumped away from him with a frightened little whimper. With a grin, he bullied him into unlocking the gate and leading the both of them inside. 

“Please-”

“Shut the fuck up and get me inside.” It didn’t take long, the kid seemed to be the only guard they had patrolling right now. He led the pair inside the compound and then shoved them inside a room. 

“Here, you can clean her up here.” Before he could say anything the boy was running down the hall and out of sight. He figured they didn’t have long before the rest of the compound was alerted to what was going on. 

He knew enough about the place to know they had a water purifier set up in the back and some odd little ditty they’d created to use water to generate power. Having a radiated ocean behind them was a lot more convenient than Cooper ever would have thought. 

“Alright,” he propped her up on the bed and threw the boy’s rifle to the side. “Wake up, darling,” her eyelashes fluttered but she didn’t move. He used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves and pressed a hand to her clammy head. Still burning up. He cracked his hand across her cheek, chuckling at the way her eyes flew open. 

“Come on,” he hoisted her up and shoved her towards the bathroom in the room. There were holes in the wall, the faucet was really a metal can with holes poked in it, but it was running water. Who was he to complain? He propped her up against the sink and cranked the odd lever in the wall. There was a loud rattling sound before water came pouring out of the rusted can. “Clean yourself up,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.

Barely a minute later he heard a loud crash and the sound of porcelain cracking. He ran back into the bathroom and found her half collapsed against the shower wall. What was left of the decrepit sink was broken on the ground, only the faucet sticking out of the wall. He sighed and looked over at her. 

“I fell,” she muttered, a million little cuts bleeding on her arms. 

He sighed and tugged his hat and gloves off, tossing them onto the bed outside. He came back in, pulling her away from the shower and straightening her up. She clung onto him, broken nails digging dully into his scarred arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he tugged her shirt up, her arms slipping limply out of it. 

Her wound was practically festered by now, turning a color that he knew meant she didn’t have much time to waste. He undid the button of her pants and knelt down, hands dragging down her legs and pulling her pants with them. She stepped out, hands braced on his shoulders and tripped slightly. He grabbed her thighs, steadying her and stood back up. He wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping her from falling and leading her into the shower. 

She sighed as the tepid water hit her back and he grimaced at the brown water pouring off of her. Maybe he should have let her clean up in that lake. He didn’t do much to help her as she cleaned herself up, mainly just stood there and let her hold onto him so she didn’t hurt herself further. 

He cupped the back of her neck and helped her tilt her head back to clean out the rest of her hair. It was odd, being this close to her. Less because of how stark naked she was, and more because of just how vulnerable she was being. Like a deer rolling over and presenting its neck to a wolf. He could do anything to her, and she just let him hold her like this. 

She leaned forward, clearly tired after moving around so much. Her head fell into his chest and she wrapped her arms around him tighter. She sighed, “I love you, Cooper.”

He flinched, knowing this was just a part of her delirium. Having running water for once was probably just confusing her more, making her think she was right back home. He leaned forward, lips pressed against her forehead and brushing some hair back. “No you don’t, darling.”

There was a knock on the door and he was quick to draw his gun. The door opened and a middle aged woman flanked by two guards stood smiling at him. She took in the gun in his hand but seemed unbothered by it or the threat he posed. “I hear you two need some help.”

“Mhm,” he glanced at the guards behind her but they didn’t seem particularly interested in reaching for their weapons. The woman took her in from where she lay on the bed, panting and sounding like she was struggling to get her breaths in. “I have a bounty to turn in, figured part of my payment could be you giving us a Stimpak. Then, we’ll be out of your hair.”

She laughed and took a step further into the room. He stood up now, gun pointed towards her slightly. She ignored him and took a peek at the festering wound. “She’ll need a lot more than a Stimpak. We can clean her up, don’t worry.” He didn’t get a chance to argue before the guards were coming in. He stepped out of the way as they grabbed you by the arms and legs, hauling you out of the room. 

He made to follow them but the woman placed a hand on his chest. “Sylvie, I run the compound. The bounty?”

He sighed and fished the dog tags out of his pocket, passing them to her. He glanced out the door, trying to track the path they took you down. “She’ll be fine, trust me.”

He laughed and glanced over at her, “No offense, ma’am,” he says the title with a lack of respect that makes her brows furrow in irritation, “but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s not to trust anyone. No matter how pretty their promises are.”

She gave him a long look before smiling and motioning back towards the hall. “Follow me and we’ll go find her.”

They had a decent set up here. Not as nice as the vaults, clearly, but pretty good for surface dwellers. A decent supply of meds and rations, running water. Everything in the building might be run down or covered in mildew, with cracks in the wall, but it was better than the hovels he’d camped out in. 

They’ve got her set up on cot, a bag of Radaway hooked up to her arm and her hair braided away from her face. They had to cut out the stitches he’d sewed and open the wound back up to flush it out. She’d been patched back up and while the skin still looked irritated it seemed to be doing a lot better than before. 

He’d been keeping a close eye on her breathing and she’d finally stopped wheezing on every inhale. He figured another hour here and they could get the fuck out. These people were starting to bother him. Every half hour or so they would come in to check on her, the women would spray some water on her face and mutter something before running back out. 

He seemed to scare them, enjoying the way they would avoid meeting his eyes. But it wasn’t enough to keep them away from her. Their insistence should’ve had alarm bells going off in his head, but he was already preoccupied worrying about her. He didn’t even notice when Slyvie came to stand beside him. 

“She’ll be alright,” she tried to place a hand on his shoulder but the look he shot her had her stopping short. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and tucked her hands back behind her back. He gave her another long look before going back to staring at the girl on the bed. 

“We have a place for her here, if you’re interested.”

He scoffed, “Room for us, huh?” He let himself picture it for a moment. He wouldn’t fucking stay, of course, he couldn’t. There’s no way, after two hundred years of wandering, that he could be locked down to one decaying old building. Showers or no. But he could always come by to visit her, stay a few nights and then leave again. 

That’s assuming she’d even want him to visit. Didn’t matter, he’d come anyway. But, he couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t live that life even if it would be temporary. It just wasn’t in him. He stayed stagnant for too long and two hundred years of bloodshed and loss would drive him insane. 

Sylvie shook her head and frowned. “I’m sorry, I should have been more clear. We have room for her, you have to understand, without a steady supply of Radaway we can’t risk having a ghoul here.” She moved towards her and brushed some hair out of her face, “Think about it.” She walked out and he stared blankly at the cot. 

She shifted on the bed, face pained and mumbling something under her breath. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she frowned. “Coop? What’s,” she trailed off, struggling to sit up and glancing around the room they were in. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, we’re at the compound.”

She rubbed her forehead and glared at him, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

He swatted her leg and she recoiled, “No, smartass. Just relax, we’ll be out of here soon.” She nodded and leaned back against the pillows they’d given her. It was odd, finally seeing her clean again. He could see clearly just how tired she looked. It was in her eyes, mainly, a weariness towards the world that left her exhausted. 

He’s surprised she’s even made it this far without giving up. She’d been dealt some shit luck, but he supposed it was better she be exposed to how cruel the world was as quickly as possible. She groaned and her head flopped forward. 

“What’s wrong with you now?” 

“God,” she muttered, turning her face away from him and shaking her head. He huffed and sat up straight, glaring at the side of her face. 

“Talk,” he demanded, not in the mood for games. 

“I meant it,” she sounded pained, like the words had to be forced out. “I mean, I hate that I meant it, but I did.”

He rolled his eyes, “Meant what? You’re gonna have to be a little clearer than that, sweetheart.”

“What I said in the shower. I meant it. I haven’t stopped loving you, despite how much I want to. I don’t want to want you anymore, I don’t want that connection to the past to constantly be shoved down my throat.” She sighed and tugged at the braid they’d given her. “You’re cruel and mean and, fuck’s sake, you’ve shot me twice. But you’re also the only thing I’ve got left, and despite how much I want to, because trust me I do, I can’t let you go.”

He sighed and turned away from her. She was still tired, still a bit woozy from the fever. He could see the sweat on her forehead again and knew that whatever this was, was just drug induced. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle her wanting him like this again. 

Being around her already made him vulnerable enough. Whatever twisted connection he held to her now, would be nothing compared to letting her love him again. Two hundred years on his own and she thought she could just come barreling back into his life and everything would be lovely again?

No, that’s not how this world worked. Not anymore. 

He stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Get back to sleep, we’ll leave soon.”

She sighed and sank back against the pillows, shivering as she did so. “You’ll be here?”

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” She nodded, eyes already drifting shut, and turned away from him. He let himself admire her, taking in her relaxed features and soft expression. She reminded him so much of before. Before the world went to shit and before he turned into what he is now. 

He could feel parts of him, the ones he’d buried a long time ago, come up around her. Twisted as they were, how he felt about her before still lingered somewhere within him. But he couldn’t afford the risk that they presented if he did let her back in. He wasn’t even sure she could fully handle him if he did. 

She’d nearly died about five times, most of them because of him, and she’d been up here for such a short time. She’d be better off without him. He walked towards the door, the spurs of his boots clicking against the tile of the floor. He found Sylvie lurking a few halls down and whistled, getting her attention. 

Sylvie turned to him with an expectant smile. “You got room?”

She nodded with an eager smile, “We do. And you’d be compensated, of course.” Before he could question what exactly she was paying him for she snapped her fingers and some guards approached. They handed him a bag that he quickly rifled through. Not only was there enough Radaway to last him at least a month, there was purified water and rations that would keep him going until the next bounty. 

She’ll be better off here. 

He tucked the bag away and smiled at Sylvie, “Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.”

She gave him a lecherous grin, “You as well,” she nodded and the guards escorted him to the gate. He didn’t let himself look back, knowing he’d just want to go get her. At least now he didn’t have to constantly worry about saving her ass. 

He was better off on his own. Always had been, always would be. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[bitter-me]

Pookie please!

At first I'm fine with the open ending of Welt x Reader ome. But then you go on ahead and make a sequel with a cliffhanger. Please my heart can't take it.

I won't force you t continue it if you don't want to. I just wanted to say it's amazingly written. And if you did ever wanted to go back continuing that, I'd be looking forward to it. (Be it more angst or bittersweet ending or even happy one. I'm content because I'm just that starving for Welt x male reader)

The very long awaited part three

Yes, Your Excellency

Part One | Part two | Part Three (You're here)

----------

Welt Yang | M. Reader

----------

"I will gladly play the part, so that you may shine, my sun."

----------

Once upon a time in a kingdom far away..

Lived a princess only 14 years of age.

There wasn't anything this princess couldn't have with a boy just like her serving as her right hand man..

"Yes, Your Excellency."

Those are the words he have said to her multiple times, from the very beginning. He was there as he watch his Lady build an empire from nothing. Her anxiousness... her fears.. her loneliness... her suffering..

He saw it all.

His dear Christine.

She was truly.. the light in his tunnel..

Even after everything, she still smiles and answers to her people. Truly a kind and thoughtful ruler.

And he's more than happy to be by her side. To guide her. And comfort her at her lowers.

She was everything to him.

----------

The Stellaron Crisis brought many disasters and ailments. The suffering the people felt, their loved ones who are clutching their last straws. It breaks his heart. Truly it did.

It breaks his heart that Her Excellency has to watch her people suffer.

Her face which was once filled with joy was replaced by a somber expression. Her tone was so soft and full of life has turned sorrowful.

It breaks his heart... Truly... it did..

How could they.. turned such a beautiful person who's full of life into.. this..

It's unforgettable!

And as her right hand man, he will solve this Crisis and finally... bring back that smile that once adored her face.

He endured many sleepless nights and devoted himself to his research. He doesn't care what it takes. He will save her. The Stellaron Crisis is out of control, what if Her Excellency gets infected by its disease? What if she was suffering from the ailment this entire time! He has to! He has to save her! Whatever it takes!

"You worked so hard on trying to solve the Stellaron Crisis. I can see why you're Her Excellency's right hand man."

The day the Nameless arrived at their humble planet, claiming wanting to help and lend their aid. He was skeptical. How could these... people.. be as what they claim to be? How could he know they won't harm anyone? How could he know they won't harm her?

He didn't say anything as he kept vigilant.

They complimented him. Calling him a responsible and caring man for devoting himself to his research on the Crisis that had plagued his home.

Of course.

How could he not?

When she is also affected by it?

She doesn't deserve this.

She doesn't deserve any of this.

Her beloved kingdom.. on the brink of collapsing..

Oh how heartbroken she must be..

Which is why...

He's taking things into his own hands.

He can't just sit idly and see her suffering like that everyday.

----------

"Whatever it takes?"

"How bold~"

"Then why don't you accept our offer?"

"We can help you!"

Their voices are loud. Oh so loud. They begged and persuaded him. Trying to get him on their side.

"We can give you power.. so you can protect her."

Their offers are very tempting. Very very tempting.

----------

The Nameless.. as righteous as they are.. never would he thought one of them could be so interested in him. That man talked to him so casually as if they're old friends, maybe more.

He was never good with names.

But his name seems to stick to him for some reason. The chatter and the gift that man had given. It somehow.. stuck to him in a way he never knew existed.

He felt like he had gone insane.

They're strangers and yet.. it felt like.. they knew each other for so long..

"Oh? What's this?"

"Have you found another?"

"How cruel of you.. to forsake your beloved.."

No... No.. No!! Nonononononononononono!!! He can't!! Her Excellency!! She's—!

"You can't deny it though."

Shut up.. just shut up!

Their voices grew loud as their demans became more tempting by the second.. The Nameless.. as righteous as they may be.. Could he truly trust them..? Trust them to.. solve this Crisis..? Trust them to.. save her..?

Of course not.

How could he? How could he trust them? They're just some random people!! They came uninvited claiming they wanted to help!! Who do they think he is?! He's Her Excellency's right hand! Christine's right hand!

"You know what..? Sure.. I accept."

.

.

.

.

.

"They're nothing but fools."

"No one can save her."

"No one but me."

[mariacallous]

Since the conversation, if you can call it that, about trans people always seems to come down to bathrooms, I am sure of one thing.

I would much rather share a ladies’ room or a locker room with Sarah McBride than with Nancy Mace.

McBride, of course, was just elected to Congress and, in January, will be the highest-ranking elected official in America who is transgender. The 34-year-old comes to the US House of Representatives after serving in the Delaware legislature; before that, she was the national press secretary of the Human Rights Campaign.

Mace, a member of Congress from South Carolina since 2021, has been on an ugly campaign in recent weeks clearly intended to belittle and marginalize McBride – and to get on TV as much as possible doing so. She has filed a resolution, and the House speaker, Mike Johnson, has given it his nod of approval, that would somehow force trans people to keep out of the congressional bathrooms that reflect their gender identity.

“If you think this bill is about protecting women and not simply a ploy to get on Fox News, you’ve been fooled,” wrote Natalie Johnson, Mace’s former communications director. She added, pointedly, that a real effort to protect women would involve “a bill to bar Matt Gaetz, a sexual predator with an affinity for underage girls, from ever walking those halls again”. (Trump, as you know, tapped the far-right former Florida representative as his attorney general as part of this month’s parade of appalling cabinet choices. Gaetz later withdrew from consideration.)

On Wednesday, McBride reacted with dignity to all the performative insults and abuse. She simply responded that she would follow the rules and that she’s in Congress to represent her Delaware district; I’m sure she’ll eventually find ways to continue her admirable advocacy.

Mace, on the other hand, can’t be described as dignified. She’s running around pasting the word “biological” on restroom doors for photo ops, and snidely tweeting in McBride’s direction about International Men’s Day.

And she’s getting plenty of the media attention she craves.

On one level, this is all part of the unending circus of the Trump era.

On a human level, it’s scary, wrong and damaging.

“As a trans person myself, I’m really worried about where this is headed,” wrote Parker Molloy, who writes incisively about politics and media in her newsletter the Present Age. “I spend each day worrying about whether or not the healthcare that keeps me alive will remain legal, whether I’m going to face new restrictions on where I’m allowed to exist in public, what would happen to me if (god forbid) I wound up in prison for some reason, and whether or not my identity documents like my passport will be retroactively made invalid.”

She added poignantly: “Now, more than ever, I feel alone.”

Trans students may have it even worse. Again, it often comes down to bathrooms.

A lot of children, especially transgender and gender-nonconforming children, avoid bathrooms all day, since that’s where the bullying can be most intense. Thus, advocates say, trans kids often are prone to urinary tract infections or eating disorders because they’ve avoided eating and drinking.

As for the right’s obsession with trans students on sports team, the vast majority have no unfair advantage on the playing fields (or courts, or pools). They are just trying to reap the same benefits of sports as do other kids – leadership, teamwork and friendship.

The meanspirited and misinformed narrative about transgender people makes it difficult for them to feel cared about and to live full lives.

But don’t try to tell that to Mace, whose preoccupation is not with kindness or decency, but with getting attention and winning the culture wars.

As the Daily Beast reported last year, Mace’s staffers were given a handbook that outlined just how intensely this mattered to their boss; they were told to book her on TV multiple times a day, amounting to nine times a week for national outlets and six times a week for local outlets.

In 2021, Mace depicted herself as supportive of LGBTQ+ rights. That was before the tide turned so forcefully and, as Philip Bump of the Washington Post put it, before “the Republican base had been fed a steady diet of anti-trans rhetoric, making trans issues fertile ground for anyone willing to engage in the fight”.

Mace, clearly, is more than willing.

If that means being cruel, then so be it. As writer Adam Serwer observed about Trumpian politics: “The cruelty is the point.”

Meanwhile, vulnerable and marginalized people are made to suffer for trying to be true to themselves. And despite the progress shown by McBride’s election, the world around this milestone seems to be getting increasingly harsh.

[evilbihan]

Bi-Han x former!Umgadi reader

Here are some headcanons for Bi-Han with a former!Umgadi reader because I thought it would be an interesting dynamic and because I'm sick and tired of how reader always has this "I can fix him" attitude towards Bi-Han in most headcanons/fics. He doesn't need fixing, he deserves a supportive partner.

(Be warned, I've never written reader insert headcanons before and English is not my first language. I'm new to this, so feedback is appreciated.)

ALL YOUR LIFE YOU HAVE LOYALLY SERVED Outworld's royal family as part of the UMGADI, the royal guard made up of warrior priestesses. You live for DUTY, it's the only life you know, the purpose Delia and Argus have bestowed upon you, and you never dared to question it. To be chosen to protect Outworld's Emperor and Empress is an honor. Your Umgadi sisters are your family. You don't know your parents, your grandparents or siblings. You've never met them. As the eldest daughter, you were separated from them the day you were born. No Umgadi ever speaks of her family, you're well aware that it's forbidden and yet there's nothing you want more than to one day be reunited with your birth family.

AS THE TARKAT OUTREAK starts claiming the lives of many Outworld citizens, your unwavering faith in the gods and the royal family slowly begins to crumble. You helplessly stand by and watch as more and more infected people are banished from Sun Do each day. Infuriated by the INJUSTICE you witness, you start to wonder if the royal family really deserves your loyatly.

AT THE RISK OF BEING CAST OUT of the order, you begin to secretly search for your family, despite knowing that it goes against everything the Umgadi believe in. It means betraying your order and the royal family. More than that, it means going against the will of the gods. Nonetheless, you're determined. With no cure for the desease in sight, you fear for the worst: that your search for your family will be cut short, should they be among those who have contracted the illness.

ONE DAY YOU DECIDE TO secretly follow Tanya, the head of your order, after noticing that she often disappears with no explanation. You find out about Mileena's infection with Tarkat and that a cure exists, but is only made available to the royal family. Although you keep what you've seen to yourself, your faith is shaken and you wish more than ever that you could leave your life as Umgadi behind. You continue your duties, but deep inside your frustrations grow more and more each day.

YOU MEET BI-HAN IN LEI CHEN, during his attempt to free Shao from captivity. At first, you try to stop him and the two of you fight. You're evenly matched in strength and skill and the fight ends without a winner. You don't know why, but as Bi-Han tries to reason with you, you decide to hear him out. You don't know who this mysterious man is, but there's something about him that intrigues you and you can tell he's equally impressed by you and your fighting skills.

AS YOU LEARN MORE ABOUT HIM, you begin to realize that you and Bi-Han are KINDRED SPIRITS. Looking at him is like looking at a reflection of yourself. Both of you are driven by the same FRUSTRATION, the same DESIRE for freedom and the wish to be the architect of your own destiny. Both of you were forced to sacrifice so much of yourselves to serve a bigger purpose, only to be disappointed by those you had put your faith into. Bi-Han shares his visions for the Lin Kuei's future with you and you admire his AMBITION, his COURAGE, the courage to stand up to a GOD and shape his own destiny, something you'd always dreamed of doing, but were too afraid to do. You admire Bi-Han's LOYALTY and DEVOTION to his clan, that he's not afraid to risk his own life to give the Lin Kuei a better future and you realize that he's nothing like the royal family of Outworld. He's a leader you would happily die for.

YOU HELP BI-HAN to free Shao. It's your own little act of vengeance against the royal family for all that was stolen from you and in return, Bi-Han offers you a place with the Lin Kuei. Finally, after all those years of wishing you could be free, you leave the Umgadi behind and follow Bi-Han to your new home, Arktica.

HAVING SPENT YOUR WHOLE LIFE in Outworld, you know very little about Earthrealm, but to your surprise, Bi-Han doesn't seem to mind answering your questions, nor does he mind bringing you fur coats to protect you from the harsh cold that your body isn't used to. When you somehow end up falling ill with a cold regardless, you stubbornly ignore it at first. You're a warrior and warriors don't get sick. However, Bi-Han insists that you're put on bedrest. He brings you medicine and makes you tea and you can't help but wonder why he, the grandmaster, is personally looking after you, instead of tasking some servant with it. Though he came off as cold and ruthless when you first met him, you're starting to see that there's a CARING, AFFECTIONATE side to Bi-Han, one that he rarely shows around anyone else but you.

THE MORE TIME YOU TWO SPEND TOGETHER, the more you feel drawn to each other. Your respect and admiration for Bi-Han grows into something much stronger. LOVE. In you, Bi-Han has finally found someone who understands him, and supports him, a SOULMATE to confide in. You two have made many enemies and you know that every day you spend together could be your last, so you make your time together count. Despite the constant danger, being a wanted woman in Outworld and being at war with the Shirai Ryu, you have never been HAPPIER, you have never felt more ALIVE and FREE. Bi-Han encourages you to be yourself, he supports you in every way he can, he aids you in your search for your family and he's doing everything he can to make Arktica feel like home for you.

AMIDST THE CHAOS, you and Bi-Han have found SAFETY and COMFORT in each other. He is your home and you are his family. He understands you like no one else ever did. You would follow him to the ends of the earth and he would do the same for you.

YOU'RE THE ONLY ONE who knows how much Bi-Han truly misses his brothers and how much their betrayal pains him. You wish that you could help them reconcil somehow, but you've met Kuai Liang on a few occasions and you know he can't be reasoned with. However, a part of you is still holding on to hope that at least Tomas will come around one day. All your life, you have missed the family you never had the chance to meet and you understand how much it hurt Bi-Han to lose his brothers. It makes you all the more determined to help the Lin Kuei in their fight against the Shirai Ryu.

DESPITE BOTH YOUR PAST and the lives of violence you both live, the moments you share with Bi-Han are peaceful, tender and sweet. An unbreakable bond has formed between the two of you and although you had to cut ties with former allies and friends, you never once regret your choice to join the Lin Kuei. Few can understand why you turned your back on the Umgadi and your old life, some call you a traitor, but their opinions matter little to you. It is you and Bi-Han against the world, against realms and gods and you don't mind that at all.

[andthekitchensinkao3]

Emmrich x Astarion what now?

@indiscreettransexual your 'I don't go here, but I'm here for THIS' vibes inspired this post <3 And since I was tagged by @kcscribbler @notyourmamasdeerbat and @insert-witty-user-name-here let's call this my WiP Wednesday post. Sorry in advance, everyone. <3

Just to get this out of the way: I am not implying I know all about these characters, and this is by no means an attempt at an in-depth psychological analysis of either Emmrich or Astarion, nor is it an exhaustive explanation of either fictional worlds - this is me sharing my thoughts and ideas regarding why I’m so excited to dig into this BG3 crossover fic. And to let those of you unfamiliar with either Dragon Age or Baldur’s Gate/D&D get the lay of the land.

In other words: welcome to my TED Talk, below the cut.

Also, sorry for tagging you in all these posts, @tinygameralec <3 See how far I'm running with your idea?

The worlds

Both Thedas and Faerûn are continents in worlds steeped in the Dark Fantasy genre, populated by an assortment of races/species that coexist with varying degrees of success. You have dwarves and elves, humanoids with horns (Qunari/Kossith and tieflings, half devils/half humans et cetera), hurlocks and genlocks; hobgoblins, goblins and orcs. The list goes on, especially for the D&D world.

The Dragon Age games have gradually moved from classic dark fantasy with overt oppression and systematic abuse to its latest instalment, which is basically a game about grief, loss, and how to recover from that through the combined strength of your friends and community; you have to own up to your mistakes, and try to save the world from being literally corrupted by a Blight. And there are two escaped elven gods out to squash anyone opposing them like a little tiny insect.

Baldur’s Gate 3 shares some of those themes of ragtag companionship and joining forces to save the world, but it also really digs into the darker aspects of its genre. It’s gory, disturbing, and asks all kinds of questions about what it means to be Whoever You Are in a world that largely gives less than one single fuck about you, and, more or less actively tries to kill you for any number of reasons - chief of which being you’ve been infected with a thousand-toothed tadpole that will turn you into a tentacled monster set on world domination in a matter of days.

Thedas has a High Fantasy religious system, where you have Fantasy Catholicism, and Elven Paganism, but no Hell, no demons. When the god referred to as ‘the Maker’ deemed mortals unworthy, he pretty much said “You’re on your own, kids, good luck finding redemption. Deal with your own shit.”

Faerûn has demons galore, and several levels of Hell - and a whole plethora of deities. Dwarves have their own pantheon, as do elves and humans - if you’re an elf or dwarf from the Underdark (drow or duergar, respectively) you have your own set of gods and belief systems. One of the playable races in BG3, githyanki, worship a living ruler called Vlaakith. She’s so powerful she basically named herself a god/ascended to a godlike status among her people. And then, of course, there are the Ilithids, the tentacled race of psionic powerhouses that Astarion will be transformed into - unless he finds some way of removing the tadpole germinating inside his brain.

So, on the surface, the worlds are inhabited by similar creatures, share similar themes of corruption (and how to fight it) while Faerûn is vastly more diverse with regards to player characters and religious systems.

On the topic of elves

Because Astarion isn’t just a vampire spawn, but a High Elf, let’s dig into the different views on elves.

In Faerûn, elves are, by and large, considered to be beautiful, capable, and trustworthy… with some exceptions. They come from all walks in life, and can have different origins - in BG3 they’re limited to High Elf, Wood Elf, or Drow. Drow are EVIL! Just look at those red eyes! They worship spiders! WOE! No, it’s not that simple, but for hyperbole’s sake. Drow BAD, other elves GOOD.

In Thedas? Elves BAD. Elves of the Dales? BAD and godless, savages the lot of them. City Elves? A burden on human society, honestly, why are they even here? Let’s bundle them into ghettos and strip them of practically all their rights, and sell them as slaves. That oughta teach ‘em.

What about mages, then?

Mages in Faerûn? Excellent! Scholars and sages and natural savants, they’re all good. Necromancers good, sorcerers good, everyone wants to know a capable mage for all those pesky Quests you want to go on. As long as you're not outright Evil, you're cool.

Mages in Thedas… Dangers to society, let’s strip them of all their rights, take them away from their families the moment their magic manifests and put them in Circle Towers - prisons where mages are kept under surveillance at all times, educated in the fields of magic, and if they don’t pass their final exam, they’re killed on the spot. Wouldn’t want one of them to be possessed by a demon, and turn into an Abomination. Oh, and if, for some reason, you don’t have the skills enough to control your magic, or your mind isn’t deemed strong enough to resist a demon’s influence, you can either opt for a magical lobotomy, or be subjected to it by Fantasy Catholic Church. Or, you know. They kill you ded.

(Dragon Age: the Veilguard scrubbed the lore a lot with regards to the oppression and systematic abuse of both mages, elves, and others. While I can appreciate why, I like keeping some of it intact in my fics, while retaining the Found Family vibes of the Veilguard companions)

So… what happens if a High Elf vampire spawn gets portalled into a world where actual vampires only exist in a few lore entries as being people possessed by hunger demons, and most recently as a single instance of party banter between Emmrich and another of the companions? Where the first bunch of people he encounters are all Basically Decent, and don’t assume he’s a cold-blooded murderer? Where the assassin of the team gets him blood from the butcher’s so he can join them at meal times. People actually ask for his input and help with stuff?

And, because this is a slash fic, what happens when our Outwardly Suave Dork Who Cannot Deal with Feels gets involved with the Respectful Genteel Necromancer of All the Big Feels and Romantic Gestures? Well...

So. Who are Emmrich and Astarion (and why should anyone care)?

Emmrich is the ‘gentleman necromancer’ of the Veilguard team. He’s a human mage and a scholar, 50 years old (according to data mined from the game), devoted to his Mourn Watcher duties. The Mourn Watch are a dedicated class of necromancers who tend to the dead, while safeguarding both them and the living. Mourn Watchers revere the dead, and take their jobs very seriously. Emmrich is also a corpse whisperer, which lets him speak to those who have passed. Emmrich also has an assistant and ward, called Manfred, a reanimated skeleton (assembled from donated parts) and imbued with a spirit of Curiosity.

Emmrich comes from a commoner background, and is currently at a stage in his life where he’s academically accomplished, renowned and wealthy, at the higher end of the social hierarchy, and he wants for almost nothing. But he’s got two major Things with a capital T that weigh on him: he suffers a fear of death like you wouldn’t believe; and he’s never found a love that lasts. His Major Choices have to do with facing his own mortality, or choosing to become an immortal guardian of the world. His Wound (emotional driving force) is losing his parents at a young age. When he feels wronged or cornered, he can be petty and cruel.

Emmrich is a Romantic. Capital R on that one, too. This is our man of Big Emotions. When he falls for someone, he plummets. He doesn’t just fall in love, he crashes - but of course, he’s old enough now that he’s outwardly composed about it. Naturally.

Astarion is a rogue and a charlatan; a vampire spawn formerly working as a magistrate in one of the largest cities of Faerûn, Baldur’s Gate - all while enslaved to a cruel master, the vampire who Sired him. Recently kidnapped by mind flayers and infected with a thousand-toothed tadpole that will turn him into a tentacled monster with aspirations of world domination, Astarion finds he can be out in the sun again. He can step into water, for the first time in two-hundred years. He can enter homes uninvited, he can think for himself, free of his master’s influence/mind control.

Astarion’s Wound, as it were, is the abuse of power, and has to deal with the abuse he’s suffered over the past two centuries. Depending on choices you make in the game, he can either begin to heal, or become more bent on revenge and accumulating power of his own.

I will die on the hill that is Astarion is a Dork who hides it well, but! He is charming when he wants to be, cunning, vindictive, and has Enormous Issues with Emotional Intimacy. He's snarky, sassy, flirty, and will absolutely use sex as a means to get into someone’s good graces, or to get the upper hand, attain status within a group, you name it. Not a problem. But Actual Feelings? Noooo.

Care, or don't, but I think it will be really neat to explore their different dynamics, but also dig into their diametrically opposed approaches to, and views on, love and intimacy.

Yeah. Astarion will resist any suggestion of Love (ugh) while Emmrich, of course, will crash… and burn? That’s the question, isn’t it? How to mesh their character motivations, Wounds, and let them have their Happily Ever After. All while telling a story that fits into the Veilguard plot.

Expect the usual from me: Dual POVs, Big Emotions, High Stakes, and ANGST.

@ghoulehhh @natendo-art @in-my-loki-feels @kusakichan15

@devilbearingtrouble @impulsemuppet @mirilyawrites @scifikimmi @silentxsymphony

@rin-love-is-green @confetti39x @stillwanderingflame @elodiah @lokimobius

@insert-witty-user-name-here @blackbirdofasgard @dreamycloud @distracteddream @thosegayoldmen @crowtoed

@mobius-m-mobius @dilfmobius @adorbspotat @lgwilt

 @redheadsramblings @starfleetteddybear @mercars-musings @holyglassbone @genocidalfetus @wolfpup026 @elodiah @notyourmamasdeerbat @lavender-tea-fling @otterpocketz

[animatorweirdo]

The House Of Feanor Meeting the Embodiment Of the Void

The house of Feanor meets the embodiment of the void, who is not what they expected to be.

Requested by Anon

Hi there, hope you're doing well :)

May I send a request for the Feanorians, who meet the embodiment of the Void (reader) when they're in the Void after death, and after witnessing how regretful they were of their actions, reader pleads with Eru/Mandos to give them another chance and they do, but that would mean that the Feanorians have to leave her behind, so they ask to bring her along and she does get to go to Valinor with them?

It's up to you if you want to do a romantic pairing or go for a platonic route.

Thanks!

Warnings: mentions of Feanor and his actions, the oath, kin slaying, mentions of death, being disembodied spirits, Ungoliant, madness, eating itself, self-reflection, some soft moments, and Melkor being kind of an ass.

------------------------------------------------

- Darkness is what elves expected to meet once they damned themselves on the path of doom and their souls are banished to the void, beyond the doors of the night, where they might never return. 

- It was mostly true. There was no light like the stars, the sun, or the light of valars in the void, but most importantly, there was nothing. 

- One of the tales of the void shared that there were creatures of horrors who desired and envied the light of Eru, but surprisingly, there was none, and even when a soul sensed another presence, it would vanish or leave them alone. 

- However, one thing they did not expect was to dream within the void and meet a powerful presence. 

- So, when the house of Feanor had damned themselves into the void due to the oath, they did not expect to meet you, the embodiment god of the void itself. 

- It was unheard of that the void had its own god, but yet not many things were known about the void. However, you were not what they expected to be. 

- You were the twin of Eru, his opposite to his light. However, unlike Melkor to Manwe, you bore no hatred for your twin or his creations. On the contrary, you loved him and felt fascinated by the beings created by his songs. 

- He inspired you to create your own children that resembled you. Unfortunately, your creations became the very thing that kept you from ever taking a closer look at Arda and its wonders. 

- You shared with them how one of Eru’s first creations, Melkor, often came to seek imperishable flame within your domain. You tried to be welcoming, but his ambitions, hatred, and jealousy infected your children, causing them to hate Eru’s light and feel the desire to devour it, forcing you to trap them within your domain and keep them from ever escaping. 

- One of your children did escape, the great spider, the inhabitant of Arda called Ungoliant. It pained you to watch her hunger to make her suffer. You had tried many times to call her back to the void where you could null her hunger, but unfortunately, her hunger caused her to become beyond mad and eat herself. 

- The house of Feanor was baffled by you but felt gratefulness when they learned that you were the reason your children did not try to devour their souls and very existence. 

- You were curious about them and asked why they had been banished to your domain. Elves were supposed to be creatures of light. 

- As Feanor was first to be banished into the void, he was the first to explain what had come to happen in Arda, and you listened. 

- You felt astonishment and grief for the loss he had suffered and that it had driven him to commit such actions. However, your curious nature and questions made him think of his actions and family who were still alive on Arda. 

- If he and his family had committed to such an oath that the valars saw to fulfill their self-inflicted sentence should they fail to retrieve the silmarils, then there was nothing you could do but let them stay and fulfill their sentence. But knowing your children, it was still a very harsh sentence, as they did not know the void was filled with beings who were hateful and wanted to devour the light of life itself. 

- To give him the chance to wait and fulfill his sentence, you kept his soul close to you, keeping him safe from your children. 

- It would have been overwhelming for him for you to speak in your form, so you mostly spoke to him in dreams. He was willing to share what he had seen in Arda, filling you with delight while you two waited if his sons were to join him. 

- It was perhaps some centuries upon Arda and not too long in the void as there was no sense of time in the void, but three of his sons entered the void. They had committed another kin slaying and died, thus were banished into your domain. 

- You allowed Feanor to reunite with them before revealing yourself, allowing them to speak to each other in their shared dream. Many emotions were shed, mostly anger and sorrow as they had fought and killed for nothing. 

-  Two of the twins were next to join you, the youngest of the house. 

- The last to join was the eldest son. The second eldest was not to be seen, but since his soul was not in a void — it could only mean he was still alive. 

- Feanor’s sons were unnerved by your presence but became comfortable when you proved you meant no harm to them. 

- They were willing to share their stories with you and what they had seen in Arda, making you delighted. It allowed them to self-reflect and acknowledge the wrongs they had committed. 

- After many years in Arda, you decided that the house of Feanor had fulfilled their sentence and were ready to return to their hall of the dead. 

- You opened the path for them to go through the void. They asked if there was ever a chance of speaking to you again. You smiled, explaining you had to watch over your children. Perhaps once they had been cured of their hatred and creed you would be able to visit Arda once it was remade.

- With a farewell, they departed. 

- You were sad to see them go, but it was necessary as you were expecting the arrival of another. Morgoth, as the elves called him, had been chained and banished to your domain for his misdeeds. You welcomed him again and hoped he would self-reflect like Feanor and his sons, but unfortunately, he held stubbornness beyond his own good, and therefore, you could not allow him to leave till the fulfillment of Eru’s last song.

[scenicphoenix]

Totk roleswap because of course I am doing that

(might add on to this when I completely finish the game. I have only mentioned stuff i am absolutely certain about currently)

Link and Zelda finding Ganondorf is different, instead of Rarus hand imprisoning him, its fragments of Sonia and her Time magic. Raru was killed instead of Sonia, his Stone stolen by Ganondorf. Sonia using her stone and time magic to seal herself and Ganondorf in a bubble of frozen time.

Link gets sent to the past instead of Zelda, he was the one to end up falling instead. The Sonias Zonai stone ending up on his person during the chaos of the fall. Zelda while trying to catch Link and ends up grabbing the master sword instead, this is the moment Link teleports to the past and Zelda to the Sky islands

Links arm was still infected with gloom and needed to be amputated when he arrived in the past. The Zonai stone he arrived with helped keep the gloom at bay. Raru takes him under his wing due to his remarkable abilities in serving the light, and to help with the gloom infecting him. Sonia is impressed by his abilities in time magic as well, his flurry rush has a unique use of time magic.

Link doesn't immediately connect the dots of Ganondorf being the corpse that attacked him and Zelda. He does know he absolutely doesn't trust him. Ganondorf doesn't like Link either, mutual hatred for the other.

Before officially meeting Ganondorf, where he tries to brute force his way into taking over Hyrule, the battle goes differently. Instead of a beam of pure magic that nukes the Moldugas, due to not having Zelda around, with Links Zonai stone combined with a boost from Raru and Sonai. Link is able to destroy the Moldugas one by one at a fast pace, a super powered version of his flurry rush. This battle was much more close and Link was a last resort that Sonia suggested last second as a desperate measure. Her hope of powering up his flurry rush worked, she just wished she didn't have to put him in such harms way, however.

Raru is dead, the sages have fallen, Ganondorf is sealed away thanks to Sonia but that's only temporary. Link is at the temple of time, a tale as old as time, he's hoping for an answer, he gets one. Through the sands of time he and Zelda unknowingly briefly connect, Zelda sending not only the master sword but a large portion of her powers of light to him. He briefly remembers that the master sword can heal any damage done to it over time if the holy power is strong enough. He remembers what he was told about Zonai stones and the sacred dragons.

Link turns into a sacred dragon so he can heal the master sword and arrive in the future. Although he isn't a dragon of light like Zelda would have been. He's the dragon of time. A large green dragon that can be seen entering and exiting portals from different eras of time ever since his ascension into the dragon of time. Is the one you're approaching the correct version of him? Will it be the one where the sword is healed or still healing? His golden mane seems to be made of sand. His tears leave behind Sundilions instead of silent princesses. He has one less legs than the other dragons. Zelda feels safer around this dragon and he wonders why. She figures out why when he finds all the dragons tears.

Zelda wakes up at the sky islands, and is led by Sonia. Much like how Link was led by Raru. With Zelda being the mortal goddess and not infected by gloom, he is not restricted by the door of the temple of time like link would have been. Giving the sword and a portion of her powers to link through a hole in time. Now being weaker due to him sacrificing most of his powers to heal the master sword, Sonia guides her to shrines on the islands to help rebuild her strength.

Due to Zelda being distantly related to Sonia and his status as mortal goddess even if she has been weakened, she is able to open the shrines and use anything with the Zonai symbols on them. His reason for going to shrines is to strengthen her powers over light again after giving most of it to Link through time for the purpose of healing the master sword.

I don't think Zelda would fight with a sword or similar weapons. I think he would like bows and magic based weapons and attacks. Distance is her friend, although I doubt you want to be hit full force at close range by his powers even when she's weakened. He's a force to be reckoned with. He's the descendant of a goddess for Pete's sake.

Zelda would love exploring the skies and the depths.

The dragons of times portal ls only work for him. Although you can look through them and see the different eras he's traveling from or to. There are three noticeably different dragons of time, all based on how much the master sword has healed. The first one where he's basically just turned into a dragon and the sword is still heavily damaged. The second one where he's right in the middle of the past and present, the master sword is noticeably still damaged but on its way to being healed. And the third one where it's the most recent version of himself, the master sword is completely healed. But all three can travel through time, and you won't know which version of him it is until you check the master sword. If you try and pull one of the still damaged swords you will be flung into the nearby skies. A good way to get to higher sky islands.

I wouldn't be surprised if Zelda disquises herself, feeling like he can't completely be there for her kingdom without Link. Plus i think Ganon and the Yiga would be more aggressive at hunting him down. Zelda's also never got to try out fully being a him before being a princess and all. Sheik time. I like gender fluid Zelda. Why not both gender? Also Sheik gets to be included, everybody loves Sheik

Some things I haven't added because I would need time to figure it out and write it down. Like Links growing relationships with Raru and Sonai, Mineru, how the final battle goes before and when Sonai seals Ganon, ect. The more dialog heavy story bits mostly.

[decentishoutsidersthoughts]

Ykw I need to talk about Soda and Sandy

These two have like infected me lately so here's my like hc of them

Soda and Sandy had known eachother their whole lives, going to kindergarten together. But they didn't actually start talking until high school, and then got together about 6 months before the Curtis parents died. They were always that one couple who everyone knew wouldn't last log, but for the time they were cute an made people feel very single

For those six months they were actually good for each other. They didn't have many problems because there weren't many problems to have. Soda is head over heels for Sandy because he loves so hard even when he was trying to take things slow, and Sandy is head over heels because Soda is very easy to love. Short term its great but long term its a recipe for disaster

Then the Curtis parents die, and it's almost like Soda's a different person after that. Sure, he's always been a crier but suddenly it's like he's constantly seconds away from breaking down and it's so easy to accidentally set him off. He's a lot more busy now, and while he's always been devoted to his brothers it's almost all he ever thinks about now. Even when he does eventually get back to 'normal' it all feels so forced and he's still like clearly fighting for his life.

At some point Soda and Sandy get into an argument, it starts as something small like him cancelling on her in favor of his brothers but quickly starts spiraling. It's their first actual argument and it ends when Sandy makes a comment about how it's like he's a completely new person and Soda breaks down since he's fully aware and desperately wants to go back to the way he was before-. Sandy immediately feels awful and leaves to give him space and then apologizes and takes him out the next day. They move on from it but the fact that it happened like...lingers.

At this point it is becoming very clear that Soda isn't in the position for a relationship right now-. Sandy knows it's probably best to break things off with Soda but she is still trying to convince herself that this all will pass and everything will go back to normal, and Soda's still trying to look at their relationship through rose colored glasses because by now he's convinced he's going to marry her. By now Steve and Evie are both encouraging them to end things because they can see how rapidly things are going downhill.

The cheating was a one time thing, a guy she met at a party she was supposed to be going to with Soda. By now she's kind of done that thing people do where they mentally have more or less broken up with someone, but for some reason they aren't like actually doing it. The next day she wakes up and after freaking out a little she decides to just pretend it never happened.

She panics when she finds out she’s pregnant. At first she plans to just full on pretend the kid is Soda’s, but she realizes that’s a really good way to just ruin both of their lives. Not only that, but she sees how important it is to Darry that his brothers are happy and she can’t be the girl who ruins that. So she tells Soda and then never speaks to him again, because she knows if she does they’ll take eachother back without caring how awful they are for eachother

[erotomanicpixiedreamgirl]

why would i want a boyfriend or a husband? they bring absolutely nothing to the table. every woman i know in a relationship is unhappy but is in denial about it. i see so many smart, successful, and beautiful women with men who Leech off of them and suck their life force out by being a constant letdown and disappointment. i mean they’re with men you didnt know God can create, and it’s completely a mystery how they got together. and he often has criminally bad hygiene that she talks about like it’s the funniest thing in the world (how many times have i heard women joking about their man who doesnt wash his ass) , a reprehensible personality or none at all, always fugly and badly built with ZERO dreams or ambitions. never contributes to housework even if he works the same or less hours and complains he’s too tired or burnt out in the evenings. trying to have a conversation with him is like pulling teeth out and he barely responds beyond a simple yeah or no. you cant even say it’s because he’s good in bed bc 99% of the time he is not. he doesnt give a FUCK about her needs and wants. in or out of the bedroom. just lays on top of her for a minute at most, then rolls over to look at insta models on his phone. he’s probably the reason she has chronic yeast infections. and if you have a child together? he’s absolutely useless. so many stories are coming out with women packing up necessities and getting their children ready to leave the house during a natural disaster and what is the husband doing? nothing. probably gooning out one last time in the bathroom while his family is running around like it isnt a matter of life and death. the amount of times i hear about women asking their dumb, PATHETIC husband to watch the baby while she eats or uses the bathroom for 5 minutes and what does he do? he immediately puts it down or ignores it or tries to hand it back even when she is telling him she desperately needs a break. completely disinterested in his own child—that he probably begged for her to keep and/or pressured her to have mind you.

i know why but why are single women painted to be bitter spinsters? i am always happier when single. every single, childless woman i know is doing MILLION TIMES better than women who aren’t. yet we act like attention and being desired by these bottom of the barrel men is the prize and we should completely center our lives around them. all they do is ruin lives or take them. im sick of it fr decenter men it is the true guide to happiness.