#colors of the wasteland pack

[bread-crum206]

A Game of Hearts

Chapter eleven: The Hunt Begins

Summary: Y/N’s father is a VIP for the games, he makes a deal with the Frontman that if he marries his only daughter that he will continue to sponsor the games. However, Y/N is not fond of this decision as she loathes the games and in turn, loathes the Frontman as well. Will she grow to love him? Will he let his walls down?

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The atmosphere in the VIP room had shifted into something far heavier, something that felt like it could suffocate you if you didn’t breathe carefully. The VIPs were scattered around the room, lounging on the lavish couches with glasses of expensive drinks in hand, their eyes on the large screen mounted on the wall. The air was thick with anticipation, the same kind of energy you’d feel just before a storm hit.

You could feel their gazes on you, even though you weren’t looking directly at them. You were hyper-aware of their presence, as if they were all leaning just a little closer, just a little more eager to see what would happen next. You knew they were watching you—after all, you were the spectacle of the night, just like every other game participant. The only difference was, you didn’t want to be the prize they were fighting over.

In-ho had positioned himself near the back of the room, standing close to you but not too close. His presence was both protective and commanding, as though he was a constant reminder that the games—no matter how much fun the VIPs were having—would never be something you could truly escape. Even here, with all the plush luxury and the apparent peace, you were never really safe.

You shifted your gaze to the screen, trying to focus on the events unfolding there instead of the discomfort you felt.

The game was about to start.

On the screen, the city appeared—ruins. Buildings half-collapsed, streets littered with rubble. It was like a bomb had hit it, and what was left was a desolate wasteland. You couldn’t help but feel a knot tighten in your stomach as the camera zoomed in on the players.

Each of them wore a bright orange headband, the color a stark contrast against the grey backdrop of the destroyed city. It was the perfect game—Hide and Seek, but with a twisted, deadly twist.

The players had to evade a pack of trained dogs. If the dogs found them, they were mauled. If they managed to stay hidden, they moved on to the next round. It was brutal. Violent. And the VIPs loved it.

The camera cut to the dogs. They were large, terrifying creatures, their eyes hungry, waiting for the signal to hunt. You felt a tightness in your throat, and for a brief moment, you couldn’t look away. The images on the screen were becoming more vivid, more real. The dogs—trained specifically for this kind of hunt—were restless, pacing behind a metal gate, snarling, their teeth sharp and glinting in the dim light of the arena.

A man’s voice broke through the tension in the room. “This is my favorite part of the games,” a VIP called out, slurring slightly, clearly a few drinks in. His voice carried a note of excitement, like a child about to see his favorite movie.

Another VIP laughed darkly. “You say that every time, but you never get tired of it, do you?” He looked at you, his gaze lingering longer than it should. It made your skin crawl, but you fought the urge to shrink back. You weren’t allowed to show weakness. Not here. Not in front of them.

The horn blared.

It was a sharp, loud sound that sent the dogs into a frenzy. They barked, their bodies tense, their noses twitching as they began to pick up the scent of their prey. You could see the players—still in hiding, trying to remain as quiet as possible—knowing that the moment they were discovered, they’d be torn apart. The camera panned across the arena, showing glimpses of broken buildings, the wreckage of cars, shattered glass that glittered like dangerous confetti in the dust.

One player, a man with a thick beard, tried to hide behind a crumbling wall. His breath was shallow, his body pressed flat against the rubble. The camera zoomed in on him, following every movement, every flinch. It was obvious that he wasn’t going to make it. The dogs were too close. You could hear their growls, their teeth snapping in the air as they closed in on their target.

A single dog, a massive black creature with piercing yellow eyes, sprang forward. The bearded man didn’t even have time to scream before the dog leapt at him, its jaws clamping down on his arm with a sickening crunch.

The VIPs in the room reacted—some of them leaned forward, watching intently as the man struggled. His arm was pulled out of its socket, his body jerking in spasms of pain. The dog didn’t let go. It was almost clinical in its violence.

Your stomach turned, but you forced yourself to look away. You couldn’t afford to show any sign of weakness, even though everything inside you screamed to leave, to run far away from this nightmare. You couldn’t. Not while you were here.

In-ho must have sensed the change in you. Without turning, he moved closer, his presence a shield. His hand brushed lightly against your shoulder, a subtle touch that no one would notice but you. It was a small thing, but to you, it was everything. It was the reminder that, even though you were surrounded by these monsters, he was here.

“You don’t have to watch this,” he murmured softly, his voice so low that it was just for you.

But you shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind. “I don’t have a choice.”

“You always have a choice,” he said, his voice firm, but his hand on your shoulder tightened ever so slightly, as if to say that you weren’t alone in this. It’s funny because this is what you had said to him in the first week of your marriage and now he’s giving you your own advice.

The game continued, and you had to watch—had to endure every violent moment. The players were slowly eliminated, each one either killed by the dogs or injured enough to be eliminated from the game. The tension in the room built, and the VIPs, unable to hide their excitement, began to lean closer to the screen.

It was as if you were all watching something… sacred. The chaos was intoxicating, even for you. But you knew it wasn’t real. These men didn’t care about the players. They were nothing more than objects to be discarded when they were no longer useful. And yet, they stared, completely enthralled.

Your eyes flickered to your father again. He hadn’t moved. He never moved. His eyes were fixed on the screen, his face a mask of impassivity. But when his gaze briefly flicked toward you, it was like a flash of lightning—a quick, cold look before it was gone. He hadn’t acknowledged you, not really. But in that fleeting moment, you saw the briefest flash of something in his eyes. Regret? Disappointment? You didn’t know, but you didn’t want to care either.

As the horn signaling the end of the game the remaining players slowly made their way out of their hiding places as the dogs retreated back to their cages.

The game ended in a bloodbath, as it always did. But that didn’t matter to the VIPs, they didn't care that people died, they only cared if they were entertained.

They began talking among themselves. Their eyes, however, soon shifted back to you. They were bored now, looking for something new to entertain them. The focus of their gazes was relentless.

You could feel them closing in, their words directed at you now, one by one, subtle compliments, veiled insults, thinly disguised advances. They were trying to reel you in, to see if you’d bite, to see if they could take something from you that they hadn’t earned.

In-ho’s protective stance didn’t falter. He stood between you and the crowd, blocking their advances with his quiet strength. His presence was like a wall, keeping you safe, even if only for a while.

You wanted to look away from it all, to pretend you weren’t part of this game, but the truth was, you were. You had been from the moment you stepped into this world.

And you weren’t sure how long you could keep pretending.

———————

Chapter 11!!! Woo! I’m prolly going to have 1-2 more chapters posted tonight… as always let me know what you think about the chapter! Thank you! :)

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[fazedlight]

Leaning In

Everything felt strange.

It felt strange to see sunlight again. To walk into her apartment. To hug Alex again, hug Lena, hug the rest of the superfriends. To hear cars roll by and planes overhead and people everywhere. 

Compared to the phantom zone, everything was strange.

Wires were crossed, Kara thought, looking over at Lena with an overwhelming sense of guilt at what she had almost done, days before. Lena sat quietly on Kara's couch with a glass of wine, eyeing Kara from across the coffee table where Brainy and Alex were finishing out their game of Monopoly.

It had only been four days since her return, and Alex hadn’t given her a moment of solitude, so overjoyed to finally have her sister back. And Kara was glad for the noise, for the life that was back in her life with all the superfriends, chatter and colors and hugs instead of the desolate wasteland of the phantom zone. 

But in that time, Kara and Lena hadn’t had a moment alone together, leaving a sinking pit in Kara’s stomach when she thought about when she’d next have a real conversation with the Luthor. Does she realize?, Kara thought, Does she know I almost tried to kiss her?

The phantom zone breaks people. It’s why Krypton used it as a prison, why it became such an effective deterrent. Her brain wasn’t normal when she returned. She normally knew better. Knew better than to try to kiss her best friend. But in her traumatized and mostly isolated state, Kara had briefly forgotten the sort of decorum required with normal living - that her months of wishing she were home in Lena’s arms didn’t mean that her daydreams had become real.

Brainy finally won the game of Monopoly - proud that he had been able to knock Lena out of the game early, virtually guaranteeing his victory - and the superfriends finally began packing up to go home. Alex pulled Kara into a tight hug, planning on giving the kryptonian some space for the night, the first where Kara would sleep in her own bed instead of the Tower. “Coffee tomorrow morning?” Alex asked adamantly, Kara quickly agreeing.

One by one, the superfriends made their way out the door - until only Lena remained, still sitting on the couch, though she had set down the glass of wine. Kara turned awkwardly from her place by her kitchen island, watching the Luthor still watching her.

Slowly, Lena rose from her seat, making her way over to Kara. “Can we talk?” she asked.

Kara nodded, glancing nervously to the side. She knows. “I’m sorry,” Kara murmured. “When I came back, I- I wasn’t thinking.”

Lena’s brow furrowed in confusion. “You don’t need to be sorry, Kara.”

Kara tilted her head back up at Lena. “Are we- are we talking about the same thing?”

“Aren’t we?” Lena said quietly.

Kara swallowed. Just lay the cards on the table, she thought to herself. “I’m talking about - I tried to kiss you. Before I remembered you wouldn’t want it. I mean, even if you did-” Kara cut herself off, glancing to the floor. Rao, I should’ve thought through this more instead of babbling…

But to her surprise, she heard Lena step towards her, until the brunette was close enough to clasp onto Kara’s hand. Kara glanced up again, taking in Lena’s demure expression. “Even if I did?” Lena asked.

Kara’s eyes flitted between Lena’s, noting how her heart was beating faster, how there was a light blush crossing her face. Oh, Kara thought, feeling a small burn on her own cheeks as she realized what was happening. “Even if you did,” Kara said shyly, “I wouldn’t want our first kiss to be in front of everyone else.”

Lena smiled softly, giving Kara’s hand a gentle squeeze. “We’re alone now,” she said. 

Kara smiled back. “We are,” she said warmly, pausing for one more moment to take in Lena’s face. Lena tilted her head, and Kara leaned towards her.

And this time, she didn’t stop.

[grandlinedreams]

Well, since I have fallen for your writing pretty hard (it's a blessing really, because so far only your reader can be read as a he when it comes to the Fallout series fandom), my brain's been spewing ideas at me.

I'd love to see a genuinely jealous Cooper. Awfully and painfully jealous, where he's actually hurting and doubting himself, but is also angry. Not the kind of playful jealousy he felt towards Lucy, no. Something deeper. And angry at the slimy guy who's already stepped over any kind of boundaries when he's laid his eyes on what's his. But they need the information, they can't go forward without it, so the plan is for the reader (you knooow, that version of the reader from that particular fic of yours, where they are crafting ammo) to get close, flirt with him, go real sweet on him. But that guy's too touchy. Too close, too dangerously close. To getting his brains blown out of his skull by Cooper's gun, that is.

I absolutely love your writing ❤️

OUGH YES I EAT THAT SHIT UP EVERY TIME but also thank-you!! I do my absolute best not to gender reader bc it bugs me to do it unless I'm asked to and it's also just a whole lot more inclusive! 🥺❤️

ㅡ

Warnings: jealous!Cooper, some self deprication, mentions of pre-War Cooper, weapons maker/dealer!reader, touch of angst, Canon typical violence, Lucy just watching all of this like ??, skeezy informant dude do be skeezin', boundaries very overstepped (unwanted touch, lewd words), questionable alcohol,cursing, quick and dirty Makeout sesh at the end lmao

The place is a "bar" in the lowest sense of the term. A gutted out building that was undoubtedly a diner of some kind before the war, now with blown out windows but surprisingly, a neon 'open' sign that halfway works in places, spitting sparks that makes Lucy eye it warily. "Is this place...safe?"

You snort. "If you're lookin' for safe, you should've stayed in that tin-can vault of yours." You adjust the sling of your pack, now far lighter than it'd been when you left with Cooper, Lucy, and Dogmeat. "We need information, and the best informant we've got likes to hang around here."

Lucy still doesn't look happy about it, but she reluctantly follows as you step forward. The inside resembles the outside for the most part, the same kind of dismal grey of the wastelands ㅡ but it's busy.

Battered tables teem with scavengers and raiders alike, and you pretend not to notice them ㅡ your attention is on the man doing a piss-poor job of wiping down what's left of a counter. A radio crackles, a singer croons sweetly, but the pitch is made tinny for the way the man casually smacks the top of it when it stutters. A barely there glance up at you, silent prompt that you follow.

"Three drinks," you say without preamble, shoving a handful of caps forward. Your fingers drum, eyes roaming in feigned disinterest ㅡ and then nod when three short glasses are shoved to you. The liquid is of a questionable color, watered down amber ㅡ you sniff it before you take a sip.

"Tastes like shit," you say when Cooper approaches and you hand him his glass, followed by Lucy, "but it gets the job done."

Lucy eyes the glass. "What is it?"

You down the rest of it. "Poor man's excuse for whiskey, I think. Or might be deathclaw piss, who knows."

Cooper snorts when Lucy's nose wrinkles, but she downs it with a grimace that makes you snicker and pat her back.

"Atta girl, vaultie. Atta girl."

The four of you settle at a table, Dogmeat at your feet as you stretch out, catching Lucy's look. "What?"

"What are we here for?"

"Information, vaultie," Cooper cuts in, "we don't have shit to go on as far as following your dear ol' daddy, so we gotta get some."

"And the best bet is getting it from that sneaky bastard," you let your eyes drift so that Lucy follows, "over there."

The man in question has clearly seen better days ㅡ or what he can see through the thick, wild tangle of silver-streaked hair on his head, the matching mess of beard that spills from his chin to his chest. He's sitting with a handful of scavengers, oblivious to the fact he's being watched.

"Him?" Lucy's tone expresses her doubt. "He doesn't look likeㅡ"

You knock your knuckles on the table to quiet her. "The point of being an informant, Lucy," you say in a low mutter, "is to not look like a fuckin' idiot who's listening in on shit they shouldn't."

"So who's gonna go talk to him?"

You sigh, eyeing the two. Cooper is obviously out of the question ㅡ it's the grace of his hat and the fact his back is to most of them that allows him some anonymity, but you have no doubts near everyone knows who he is. Or at the very least, what he is.

And Lucy... well. She's been out here for weeks now, but there's still a naive shinyness to her that says she'll fuck it up immediately, even if she doesn't mean to.

"Me," you say, and Lucy blinks at the same time Cooper tenses, eyes dark as they study your face. There's a protest on the tip of his tongue, one you silence as you continue, "I'm the best bet we have of getting what we need."

Lucy glances between you and Cooper, sensing the rising tension ㅡ and Dogmeat whines and nudges at your leg. Your eyes lock with Cooper's.

"Fine," he rasps. "Do what you have to."

ㅡ

Cooper is pissed. Lucy can tell that, the way his eyes never leave you as you trek back to the counter, another couple of caps for another drink ㅡ not for you, her, or him. But for that informant, the way you gesture with a casual nod in his direction.

He watches as the drink gets sent, the informant looking up, and his gloved hands tighten in his lap at the grin the other man gives you before he waves you over. He hates the casual way you step, relaxed, friendly ㅡ flirtatious, almost.

Cooper is not stupid. Far from it, he knows better than to outright stake claim on you in a way that can be used against him by others ㅡ but you're a chink in the proverbial armor, a weakness he's both grateful for and wishes he didn't have.

It's unspoken though, that you're his ㅡ and the fact he can't stroll over and make a point of it annoys him. Especially with the way the man's hand drifts over your leg, meaty fingers on a thigh Cooper has touched in a more intimate way, spaces reserved for him and him alone ㅡ seeing this fucker paw at you makes his blood boil.

"Looks like they're doing a good job so far," Lucy says, watching a little less intently than Cooper, "do you thinkㅡ"

"Vaultie." Cooper's voice is low and sharp. "Shut the fuck up."

It's not Lucy's fault, not really ㅡ but Cooper's two seconds from putting a bullet in this guy's head, information be damned. In another life, the life he'd had before, he figures he wouldn't be so irritated. He'd been handsome, hadn't really had to do much to make his stance clear ㅡ but now?

Now he knows what he looks like, how he acts ㅡ and the softer lining of your relationship is still new enough that there's that kernel of doubt. That you'd take someone else if given the chance, someone who could give you far more than he can ㅡ because all he can give you is all he knows.

Death and destruction, picking apart things until there's nothing left. All he knows how to do is take and take and take ㅡ and while you've yet to be bothered by it, he knows it's just a matter of time.

He tracks that hand when it slides up your back, teeth clenched because now you look distinctly uncomfortable. It's hidden, but he knows how to look for it, better at reading you than anyone else ㅡ and it's quickly fraying restraint that keeps him from getting up and coming to your rescue.

You flinch at the next touch, barely there recoil ㅡ but it's enough to snap Cooper's threadbare patience as he stands, ignoring Lucy's look of confusion as he strolls over.

His foosteps are slow, feigned casual as he approaches, settling a hand on your shoulder. Again, casual, were it not for the possessive pressure as he drawls, "Sorry for the interruption, but I need to borrow my friend here."

He's hauling you up before you can protest, and he commends himself on choosing this option rather than the one he so desperately wants ㅡ one that would involve splattering the brains of that fucker across the back wall. Even so, he takes too much pleasure in the intentional hand on said gun when the informant opens his mouth to protest.

He hurries you away from the table, ignores Lucy and Dogmeat as he tugs you past the table and outside, around the corner from prying eyes.

"Cooper," you snap, "what the fuckㅡ"

You're silenced by the aggressive press of his mouth on yours, gloved hand still firm around your upper arm as he cages you against the wall. He dominates the kiss, nips at your lip, deepens it with the muffle of a soft moan from you.

His other hand wanders, up your thigh, side, back ㅡ all the places that piece of shit dared to touch you. "I know I said do what you have to," he mutters when he breaks away to nip at your neck, "but I have my limits, sweetheart. 'specially when some fuckface is touchin' what's mine."

You squirm. "Cooperㅡ"

Dark eyes meet yours. "You are mine, aren't you darlin'?" You nod, and he clicks his tongue. "Words, babydoll. I wanna hear you say it."

It takes a second for you to find your voice. "Yours," you say, "I'm yours, Cooper."

He smirks, leaning in to kiss you again. Less aggressive but no less consuming, only letting up to let you breathe as he presses against you. "Good," he rasps, "better rememher that because I don't intend on losin' you, nor do I like the idea of fuckin' sharing."

[tinalbion]

"You Reap What You Sow" ||

Part 1

𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐 𝐇𝐞𝐫𝐞

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Cooper "The Ghoul" Howard x fem!Reader

𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐄! Mentions of death, decapitation, abuse (physical and mental), implied (but not mentioned) sexual abuse, manipulation

𝐋𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡: 4.7k

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫��: You had a bounty on your head and a familiar Ghoul has taken that bounty, so upon catching you, he escorts you back to the compound you escaped. Will you be able to convince him to let you go, or will it be for nothing?

© 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒 𝐓𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐛𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐃𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞, 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐲, 𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫!

It wasn't supposed to end up with you running from a bounty hunter that the Wastelands knew as one of the most efficient, most dangerous, and most successful in the business. You had done all you could by covering your tracks and remaining out of sight as much as possible, you had even covered most of your hair so the length and color weren't easily described to just any passersby. But naturally, your luck just never seemed to go your way. 

As you slept beneath some discarded and tattered tarps inside of an abandoned structure, you figured it would be the safest bet that you'd survive the night, at the very least. The cold at night didn't bother you as much as you thought it would, but that was one of the things that was the least of your worries. There was enough food in your pack to last you maybe a week, and that was being generous, but you've gone without eating for a few days before, who's to say you couldn't do it again? There wasn't anything that would have prepared you for the absolute surprise shit show you decided to throw yourself into, but somehow being among the tumbleweeds, giant radioactive roaches, and the occasional fiend was still a hundred times better than what you initially put up with.

You just had to get to Filly, get there, somehow manage to get your hands on some weaponry, and make it far enough away that maybe your problems would forget you, and allow you to disappear. You wanted it more than anything in the world, well, maybe not as much as a cup of cold water, but you'd cross that bridge eventually. As you lay there, huddled beneath the small blanket you had and the tarps, you wondered what would happen now that you were gone from the compound. Would anyone be sent to search for you, or would they think you weren't worth the effort if at all? All of these things that weighed heavily on your mind didn't stop your body from finally relaxing and falling asleep for the night. 

Daylight came and you were still alive, nothing found you or tried to eat your limbs as you slept, so you chalked that up as a success. You were back on the road, so to speak, and began to traverse the sandy terrains and had gotten pretty far, but your water was running low. It was slowing you down quite a bit, but you wanted to put as much distance between you and your abuser as possible. 

It was a pretty solid life you had before all this, before he started laying his hands on you and treating you as he did. It wasn't your fault, even if it was just power and the man finally showed his true colors. Axton was a very colorful character when you first met him, and he was just like you, trying his best to make it in the Wastelands, but he was doing rather well with what he'd accomplished unlike yourself. You didn't ask questions as to how he made it as far as he did, already knowing the seedy ways people survived in this world, so you took to blissful ignorance as he welcomed you into the fold. At first, things were nice and he welcomed you into his little found faction, the Condemned, but sooner rather than later, you learned that a lot of the people there hadn't started in the group of free will. 

And the more you found out, the more you felt disgusted by the behavior of Axton, who now treated you the same way a Fiend treats its next meal. He'd batter you if you questioned him, and made sure you had no interest in finding out more, and it was even worse when you stumbled upon his involvement with Vault-Tec and the cruel fate of Shady Sands. You needed out and you needed it fast, especially since you had a sneaking suspicion anyone who worked against him was punished in more cruel ways than you'd suffered at his hands. 

So in the dead of night, you gathered all you could in a traveling pack and got the hell out of there, but not without a little work. During your time there, you caught onto things, ways to kill a person and otherwise, so your challenge was hefty. Three of his men, some of whom you'd gotten to know, had been the obstacle between you and keeping your life, and they'd paid with theirs. You had a feeling this wouldn't be the first time you'd ever shed blood. 

It would be difficult, but you wanted to put that distance between yourself and those memories, and so you ran. You weren't good at sticking around and fighting, but you could if given the chance or cornered, but your concern was staying alive. 

You had trekked for so long that you'd forgotten how long it had been since you left. A week, it had been a week, or maybe close to two, and you survived this long. Go, you. With a small, almost defeated smile on your face, you sighed and nodded to yourself to keep going. A couple hundred feet, several more, and then you'd stumbled upon a forested area. There had been large walls constructed of scraps and remnants of sheet metal, and wood, and it seemed whatever else could hold together. So without much hesitation, you made your way through the doors and walked in, seeing a small settlement, dozens of people wandering around and making trades, working, doing what they could to get by. 

Slowly, you made your way down the stairs and wandered around slowly, taking everything in while you searched for anything that could further your journey. With as much as you looked around, you should have noticed the out-of-place form wandering around, watching you with intense eyes. You had wandered into a shop called Ma June's Sundries, where she would happily -or not so happily- trade what she had for caps. Thankfully you came prepared with said currency. 

“Uh hello,” you greeted the older woman. “Do you have anything resembling a decent gun I could buy from you?”Your eyes scanned the walls, the shelves, and anything you could see before you turned back to speak to her. 

Ma June looked up at you with curiosity and stared at you over her glasses. “Got a couple back against the wall there, you got the caps?” 

“Sure do, I just need something with a bit of a kick, but nothing too hefty, if that's possible.” 

June directed you toward the back wall where the weapons were displayed, but she kept her eyes on you, making sure you wouldn't try anything too suspicious or try to rip her off in any way. “What'chu need something like that for?” She eyed you, noticing the bruising that was around your neck and eye, but she didn't comment on it.

“Protection,” you stated simply. “Can't be too careful out there.” 

June eyed you but didn't argue against it. “Yeah, you're right about that,” she agreed, albeit a tad skeptically. 

Truth was there was a bounty put out on you, a large one at that, but you were none the wiser. June couldn't place where she saw your face before, but at her age, who knew where she'd seen you before? 

You grabbed a gun off the wall and were rather impressed with how intact it was and how nicely it held. “How many caps for this?” You held up a 14mm pistol, a decent-sized weapon that could easily fit into your pack if you needed to conceal it. 

June eyed it and wondered if you'd be naive enough for her to get away with a price gouge, but the closer she looked at you, the more she saw that you had something about you. The woman decided to test you, and see what she could get out of it. “Eighty caps.” 

You stared at her and furrowed your brows. “Eighty? That's a bit steep don't you think?” 

“What, you the expert on firearms now?” She asked. “Comes with ammo too,” she assured you as her arms were crossed. 

“This still goes for at least forty-five, and that’s brand new unless you can assure I'm getting my ammo's worth.”

June sighed and waved her hand dismissively. “Fine, fine. Sixty caps with ammo, take it or leave it.”

You smiled and nodded. “Got yourself a deal there, ma'am.” You grabbed the gun and a box of ammo, then rummaged around a bit and found a decent sheath for the gun, and even an upgraded combat knife that you willingly traded the old one for, which was still a decent knife, but the less you had from your previous residence, the better. 

June looked at your hoard and smiled a bit, staring up at you. “Looks like you're readyin’ yourself for another apocalypse,” she commented. 

You just sighed and nodded. “Sorta. Ran away from someone dangerous, wanna make sure I can survive long enough.” 

“Dangerous, huh?”

“Yeah. Abusive is a better term, maybe.” 

June sighed and shook her head, knowing fully well what people were capable of. “Sorry, didn't wanna pry.”

“It's kinda obvious if you didn't notice,” you said as you made a gesture to your face. “But I'll live, hopefully with these.” You patted the pile of weapons you gathered. 

June nodded and slid back ten of your caps, and before you could question her, she slid a small kit your way. “Don't tell anyone I did this, take it.” You wanted to protest, but she waved her hand dismissively again. “I ain't gonna repeat myself, take it, don't question it, and don't tell. Simple.” It was a small thing she’d put together for her regulars who frequented her shop; a small handful of freeze-dried fruits and vegetables, some fresh if she could spare it, and some other prepared foods that would last during a journey. There’d been more things, but you looked up at her with a thankful smile, not wanting to question her kindness. 

You smiled and nodded as you took the kit and slipped it into your bag. “Thanks, ma'am. I'm gonna head out, where can I find a place to stay? Not long term, something less out in the open?”

“Ain't much you're gonna get to, but nowhere around here anyway. You're welcome to travel out south-east to the desolate Wasteland that is Shady Sands, maybe somethin’ passed all that.” June didn't know much of what was transpiring out past that way, but she figured you wouldn't make it long regardless. 

“Alright, well, thanks, ma'am. You have a good one.” You smiled and waved at her, then walked through the door and raised your hand to block the sun from your eyes. The light had distracted you enough to where you didn't see the figure looming behind you. 

“You must be the little escape artist back from The Boons?” The deep southern drawl caught you off guard and you jumped. He barely moved as you spun around, swallowing as if your throat became extremely dry. 

“W-What do you mean?” 

“You, you're the girl they're lookin’ for. Got a biiiiig ol’ bounty on that little head of yours.” The Ghoul stepped up closer, his hand placed gently on the hilt of his gun in case he needed to use it. “Gonna have to ask you to accompany me back to the Boons, sweetheart,” he stated, and it didn't seem like it was up for debate. 

“What if I told you–”

“I don't rightly care what you gotta say, what I'm tellin’ you right now is I'm either gonna have you walk out here with me, or you're gonna be dragged outta here. Your choice, really.”

You wanted to bolt and try your hand at making it out of there, but where would you go afterward? He probably knew this place much better than you, and even then, you were running straight into the unknown outside of these walls. You stared at him, silently pleading with him to reconsider, but he didn’t seem too keen on giving a damn. With a defeated sigh, you bit your bottom lip and took a singular step back. 

“Are you sure you won’t reconsider, Mister Ghoul?” You asked him, feeling hopeless. 

The Ghoul just scoffed at you and let out a sigh, letting his head fall slightly as he stared at you beneath the brim of his hat. “‘Mister Ghoul’, huh? C’mon, girl, let’s go. Gotta get you back in one piece, and as fun as it is to batter up my bounties some, I got strict instructions and an even bigger pay increase if I don’t.”

With the way he carried himself, you saw that he was no joke, you didn’t want to test him further, so you slumped your head and fell into standing beside him. “Alright…” You would go quietly, for now anyway, but this would still give you enough time to get a read of him. For now, you’d study him, see how plausible it was to break off from him, maybe catch him in a distraction, and bolt for the nearest way out. You would only take so many things lying down, and returning to Axton was not going to be one of them.

So far, the Ghoul had been surprised with how easily you were complying with his directions, and it was almost too easy to the point he grew suspicious of your behavior. He would watch you from the corner of his eye, he knew how to spot different types of body language, knowing how to read people considering he’d been wandering for over two hundred years. He knew you’d react the way they all do in the end, he just had to be ready for it when you’d finally shown your true colors. 

He continued to stay just a little behind you as you walked back the familiar way in which you came, your head hung low as you passed by the wreckage left out in the wilds. You wanted to plead with him, but with his type, he wasn’t going to let you get a word in, so you just kept to yourself. 

What would you do, though, when you were finally brought back before the piece of shit you called a friend, a lover? Would you break down and go back, allowing him to treat you ten times worse than he already had, or would you die trying to kill him in his sleep? You preferred the latter. 

“What’s gotten you all tense, smoothie? You ain’t tryin’ to run, and I find that more unnerving than you attempting to bolt.”

His voice pulled you out of the depths of your mind, away from the darkness, and into the bright sun that shines over what used to be Los Angeles. You looked over at him, your face as pensive as ever, then you looked away and shrugged. “You seem to be a guy who knows his way around guns and bounties, I got no shot against you.”

He must have not liked that simplistic response with the way he looked at you, but that’s all you really had to say to him. “Well that may be true, which I can definitely say it is, I just couldn’t help but think you were more of a fighter than that,” he huffed.

Was he trying to bait you to try and run? Was he just bored and looking for some fun along the way? 

“Seems like you’re a scrapper, what with the black eye and all,” he raised his hand and vaguely pointed at you, but you didn’t look over at him after he’d pointed it out. 

“Yeah, I suppose so…” You shrunk within yourself and wanted to take a moment, the hot sun and lack of water in your system made you feel faint. You stumbled a bit and fell to the ground, falling to one knee as your hand caught you from teetering over completely. “Dammit…” You sighed and threw your pack onto the ground, digging for your canteen. 

The Ghoul stopped and turned to watch you, not helping, but not stopping you either. His hand was always resting on the hilt of his gun no matter what you did, but he seemed much more relaxed than he was in Filly. He figured you wouldn’t get far by running, and he would have been right. “This one of your little games to throw me off?” He asked, suddenly amused. 

“No,” you huffed in return, keeping it short. You drank greedily and panted to catch your breath once you finished half of your water, then looked up at him. “We gotta camp somewhere before it gets too dark,” you pointed out. “I think I remember passing a weird structure that seemed okay up that way,” you said as you pointed in the direction.

The Ghoul just laughed and looked at you as if you were sprouting a second head. “You think I’m gonna let you make decisions? You ain’t got much of a choice right now, sweetheart, so we either go until I saw we stop, or I can rough you up a little to make sure I ain’t questioned again. You hear me?”

“I didn’t mean anything by it, Mister Ghoul,” you said as you sat in the grainy sand, your brow covered in sweat while you tried to regain some sense. “I just… I feel weak and didn’t wanna hold you up.”

He stared down at you in confusion. “You with all this ‘Mister Ghoul’ bullshit, what is your deal?”

“What, you mean having manners?” You asked with a sharp laugh, then slowly got to your feet. “I just… it’s instilled into me, that I was taught to not talk back unless… well, never mind that, it’s just a habit. What, want me to be just as gross and derogatory as the rest of the population?” This time you had a bit of bite with your bark, and the bounty hunter took notice immediately. “Sorry… I didn’t mean it–”

“You did,” the Ghoul corrected, “and it ain’t like I’ve not heard it all, been around a long time, it don’t bother me none. I’m in this to get paid and that’s it.” He started to walk a little ahead as you dragged along, wishing you had just laid low for a bit longer. 

Wordlessly, you continued beside the man as he guided you, but his steps had slowed a little for you to keep up with him. That was the first thing you noticed on this trip that didn’t seem in character. But you didn't know this man in the way many references to him as, you weren't aware of the years he held the title of a feared bounty hunter, you just knew that the closer you got back to the Boons, the more you felt physically sick. 

The sun was setting and getting significantly colder now that you didn't have much coverage, but you both were still out in the open as you continued forward, you were growing paranoid. There had been roads instead of sand, which meant you were on the right track to being back in the Boons, but you were more exhausted than you realized. 

“Could we maybe stop for a bit, please? I'm so tired…” you said through a stifled yawn, then rubbed the water that formed in your eyes. “I'll give you whatever Rad-X or chems I got in my bag if we do.” 

You could barely keep your eyes open, and as much as the gunslinger would have liked to get just a bit further, he figured since you had been a decent enough well-mannered individual, he would grant you this little favor. He sighed and veered off to the left where he spotted a decent area that seemed to have some form of shelter, which looked like an old gas station. 

“Red Rocket…” You said to yourself as you looked around for any potential threats, wondering if anything would pop out at you. Carefully, you checked inside the building and all seemed suspiciously fine. There were no radroaches,  no lone raiders lurking about, it all seemed pretty calm for a place to spend the night. You looked back at your captor and then around the area. “Would this suffice? It's covered and two exits are visible in case we need ‘em.”

The Ghoul squinted at you, watching you intently while you seemed to get a good layout of the place. “Were you special forces or some shit, checkin’ the exits isn't exactly normal for your typical smoothie, and you aren't exactly what I expected you to be.”

You looked over at him as he stood in the doorway and smiled, a real genuine smile that he took notice of, and you shrugged. “Well, when you run away from a place that makes you feel like you have to know the layout of a room to escape, then maybe it's not a place worth going back to.” 

This took him off guard but he didn't show it, instead, he continued to watch you as you situated everything around you into a suitable area to sleep in. He wanted to question you, but that meant he would be getting involved, and someone like him didn't do that. Instead, he walked around the perimeter and made sure that there wasn't anything threatening to either of you, he still needed you alive to get the caps he was owed. 

The Ghoul walked over toward a shredded-up faux leather booth and figured he could rest up there until you had slept long enough, so he sat back and kicked his feet up, then tipped the hat he wore over his face to shield his eyes. He was planning on leaving it at that, but you kept making little noises here and there, ones that weren't distracting in normal circumstances. But for some reason, his body couldn't rest and he peeked over at you as you finally had gotten comfortable with a makeshift pillow you made in that little bit of time.

When he looked over at you, though, you were already staring at him. “What is it?” He asked, his tone still somewhat cold and distant. 

“Nothing, really. You just look familiar is all.”

He scoffed and shook his head, turning away from you so you could see his profile. “Sure thing, what, all us Ghouls look the same?”

“No, you look like someone I used to watch in movies with my dad.” You turned away from him, not wanting to annoy him further, but you stared up at the decaying ceiling and sighed. “My favorite one was ‘A Man and His Dog’, I always asked my dad for a dog after we watched that movie. He hated it when I constantly asked, but he was happy I at least liked the movie.” You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Sometimes I wish I could watch it again.”

The Ghoul listened, his eyes stared ahead at the wall as he focused on your words. You liked his movie, well, the man he used to be. That caused so many feelings to come flooding back that he just sat in unmoving silence, but after a while, he looked back over at you. You seemed to be miles away as you stared off, and he grew more and more curious about this bounty. He shouldn't have gotten involved, this wasn't his place. 

“Why’d you run from the Boons?” 

When you turned over, staring up at him with such doe eyes, he felt disgusted with the way you were slowly making him feel. He hadn't felt this way in a very long time, but even after everything, it seemed he still had a heart somewhere underneath it all. 

You figured it wouldn't matter how much he knew, it would all just be for nothing anyway, you were going back regardless. “I ran because I was sick of the abuse. I was tired of being treated worse than I ever had before, I'd rather take my chances in the wilds with beasts and cannibals rather than be hurt like that again.” Recalling everything Axton had put you through hurt, but you became a bit stronger and you pushed yourself until you left, something you didn't know you had the strength to do. Even if you were to be dragged back and given back to the man who did unspeakable things to you, it still showed that no matter how much you were broken down physically, you were stronger than him and you wouldn't let him break that.

The Ghoul continued to stare at you, he wasn't sure what to really say after hearing that, but he wasn't one to solve anyone's problems in such a complex way. He brought people in for a payment and that was it, the problem was no longer his, he washed his hands of it and left. But something about hearing what you endured in the Boons struck a nerve with him, although it shouldn't have, he'd done worse things for less pay. 

You took his silence as uninterest, so you turned to where your back faced him, staring off at the bits of broken glass and counters that once occupied the building. As much as you wanted to sleep, the heaviness in your body all but disappeared for the time being, so you looked up at him from your makeshift pillow, wondering if you should continue to bother him with your silly questions. 

“So, do you have a name?”

The Ghoul scoffed and peeked over at you again. “Weren't you the one who was complainin’ you were tired? Go to sleep.”

“I am, I just figured I'd ask since I've been calling you Mister Ghoul. Or are you Mister Bounty Hunter?” 

“Call me whatever you like, it ain't gonna matter much.” He turned back and looked out the window, staring at the trees that shrouded the edges of the road further down the way, and he felt himself slowly but surely finding those rough, calloused edges being torn down by you. 

Everyone always kept him at arm's length, or even further, he was a cold-blooded killer in it for the score. But someone like you would come along every so often and challenge that view, yet you alone made him question it all.

“Hmm well I'm bad with picking names, so I suppose Mister Hunter works since well, I know you're a Ghoul and that's not all there is about you.” 

The gunslinger just laughed at you, finding your conversation a lot more entertaining than you expected him to find it. “You are absolutely ridiculous,” he scoffed and tilted his head back down. “Get some rest, we got a long walk tomorrow.”

You lay there and sighed as you nestled against the small, thin blanket you had, and you wished he could see reason when you tried to talk him out of taking you back. “I wish you'd reconsider… I can't pay you what he is, but he'll kill me once I'm back.”

The Ghoul sighed loudly. “Again, that ain't my concern, sweetheart. Much as I wanna help, if I put my foot in the grave, I ain't gettin’ out of it. Nothin’ personal, you understand?”

“I'll steal from him, I'll get you your pay, I don't care, just please don't leave me with him…” Your voice was barely a whisper as you begged him, but you soon fell asleep as your pleas went on deaf ears, and you cried yourself to sleep. 

The Ghoul, on the other hand, had heard your pleas, and it filled him with a sense of dread and what he could only remember as heartbreak, which he was more than familiar with, but feeling that for you? Now that was questionable at best, but what was it about you, about your plight that he felt the need to pry into your business and find out more about this bounty? Whatever the case, he was more exhausted than he realized, soon he was following your example and fell asleep while his mind was plagued with his past.

[isabel3710]

I've dived headfirst back into my old Trolls hyper fixation with the release of the third movie. So I decided to write a little something for the idea of Branch being adopted by the Country Trolls.

I was inspired by some fan art by crunchy_coookies_ on insta and @rocksibblingsau's AU and a post they've made on this idea.

I would love to turn this into a full fledged fic one day but I'm already working on another trolls fanfic plus I got some (very loose) plans for another for when I'm done. But if I every have the time to write more I'll be sure to let you all know!

-----------

A little gray trolling sat on the edge of a dusty road, a worn looking bag sitting beside him. Branch held his ankle with both hands, it throbbed with pain and he was struggling not to cry. 

A few weeks ago Branch had decided to leave his tribe once and for all, he was tired of being bounced around from foster home to foster home. Full of people who either hated him or tried to turn him into something he wasn’t. So he packed a bag full of his prized possessions and any supplies he might need and snuck out in the middle of the night. 

At first things were great! And then he left the forest and made it to this desert of a wasteland, Branch did okay at first. He was careful to ration his food and slept with a knife in his hand.

Then today Branch had gotten his foot caught in some kind of hole and now his ankle really hurt. He had tried to stand up and power through but couldn’t without pain getting to an overwhelming degree.

He sniffed and whipped at his eyes, Branch didn’t know what he was going to do. He was stuck here with a hurt leg and he had run out of food last night. 

His thoughts were suddenly interrupted by some strange clip-clop sound. Branch reached into his bag and pulled out his little knife. He was alone out here and who knew how many things out in this strange land liked to eat trolls. 

Dust had suddenly risen up into the air and got into Branch’s eyes, he tried to blink it away as the strange sound got closer and closer. When his vision had cleared he saw the figure that matched the clopping sound.

And….

It was a troll?

The troll looked like one he had never seen before, she had orange skin and red hair which did remind him of the trolls back home. But that was where the similarities ended, for she had four legs with hooves and a fluffy looking teal tail. Her clothes weren't neon or pastel colored or covered in glitter, but fairly plain looking; with a few dirt stains and patches.

The woman seemed to notice him too for she started to walk over to him, the clopping sound following her. “Hey sugar” she said, her voice sounded strange. Nothing like Branch had ever heard before. “Why’re you out here all alone?”

Branch sniffled and tried to scoot away on his bottom, dragging his injured leg along the ground. The hand holding his knife shook a bit. 

“Hey, hey” the woman said, her voice gentle. “I’m not going ta’ hurt you.” She knelt in front of him “what happened ta’ your leg?”

Something about this woman felt calming, Branch hadn’t met anyone who made him feel this way since his Grandma died. “I tripped,” he said, tears running down his cheeks. “It hurts really bad.”

“I’m sure it does” the woman said “mind if I take a look?”

Branch hesitated before nodding, the woman carefully took his ankle in her hands. He winced a bit in pain but stayed still. The woman tutted softly “looks like you sprained it honey.” 

“Oh…”

She pulled out a piece of dark green cloth and tied it around his ankle. “We'll have to put some ice on it.”

“I don’t have any ice,” Branch said.

“Not to worry,” she smiled at him, “town’s not too far from here.” 

There was a town out here… “how?” He asked, “it hurts to walk.”

“Climb on my back” she said “and I’ll carry ya.” 

“Won’t that hurt you?”

She chuckled “you’re sweet, sugar, but not to worry. I’ll be fine.” The women helped Branch sit on her back before slowly standing “hold on darlin’.” 

Branch held his bag in one hand and to the women’s shirt with the other. And she began to walk, the clopping sound following them. It was then Branch realized he had no idea what this lady’s name was.

“Ms” he said “I’m sorry but… What’s your name?”

She chuckled “no need to apologize hon. I’m Ms Delta Dawn. What’s your name?”

“Branch.” He said “my name is Branch."

[andr0nap]

cowboy au worldbuilding with the thoma

as you can see im taking some creative liberties with the giant emu by making them more diverse bc canon isnt enough for me and i have the brainworms

extra notes below the cut

standard thoma:

the original thoma and most common type available

perfect for travel, can pull wagons or carry light cargo

fast with good stamina, fastest over short distances

friendly, intelligent, energetic and quick to learn

the most diverse in terms of colors, patterns and extra traits

well rounded in all departments (theyre like the AQ horses of trigun)

draft thoma:

uncommon outside of major cities (kept by specialized breeders)

used for construction work and long haul heavy cargo transport

gentle, patient and eager to work

not built for speed but can walk for days at a steady pace without rest

dense feather coat protects them from the heat and sand

expensive to maintain and keep due to their size

theyre a relatively new type that came from selective breeding

"wild" thoma:

actually feral (aka. previously domesticated), not wild

originating from lost/runaways that have not been in contact with humans for generations

rare and elusive with a small population, sometimes spotted living near shipwrecks

people will pay top $$ for their capture

begin to exhibit adaptive mutations that help them survive the wastelands

smaller and less fluffy than their standard counterparts

dont come in many colors, mostly bays, chestnuts and blacks

hardy with incredible endurance

very stubborn, temperamental and intelligent, cant be forced to do something they dont want (like donkeys)

rarely ridden, mostly kept for crossbreeding

cattle-type thoma:

related to the standard thoma but NOT the same species

common pack animal in caravans, sometimes ridden as a cheaper alternative to the standard thoma

mainly bred for meat, hide and eggs

kept in huge open range herds that travel along worm swarms for feeding

sometimes kept as a form for anti-worm pest control

keratin crests are lightweight and used for protection and display

ranchers will paint patterns on their crests as a form of identification

not the sharpest tools in the shed, tend to bite and trample people

[spiribia]

fallout universe cougar colorized. blind and possessing a relatively poor sense of smell, these animals, unlike their pre-war variants, took to living together in social units of 2 or 3 that share meals with each other and even may collaboratively pursue a target, though they lack much of the refinement of organized pack hunters. they communicate vocally to one another through chirps, feeling their way through acute hearing, vibrations, and overabundant whisker growth. because they have come to associate the rattle of heavy armor with a target that is more trouble than it is worth, wastelanders are advised to wear loud, clanking objects if traveling through cougar territory. they are quite tender to one another, grooming each other in downtime, though they easily overstimulate each other's whiskers.

[jimquisition]

We’re at a point where Soulslikes really need to start differentiating themselves from the pack of medieval wasteland adventures. Much as I love them, unless they’re of standout quality, I’m likely not to notice yet more bleak mimicry of From Software’s entire aesthetic. 

If any kind of game has crabs in it though, it’s guaranteed to automatically have my full attention. 

Another Crab’s Treasure is a colorful, spirited, satirical adventure about a socially isolated crab and the perils of undersea gentrification. With a witty script and a cast of fun characters in a world that isn’t a desolate husk, it does a lot to stick out on a smaller scale. 

[garagesesh]

when we are together

pairing(s): obi wan kenobi x (f!) reader

summary: a glimpse in the life of anakin’s best friends three years after mustafar

warning(s): angst lol

a/n: this is kind of a part two to my anakin story. i have been absent apologies i started school again and a part time job :,) plus the holidays was a horror. idk if this is good or not it’s just been on my mind. title is from the 1975. 

␛ to masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Tatooine

16 ABY

The binoculars clicked as you scanned the barren wastelands of Tatooine. The binary suns already beginning to dip beyond the horizon and the desert chill billowed through your sand colored robes.

Where was he?

You couldn’t help the overwhelming feeling that he had been found.

By him.

By Vader.

Goosebumps spread across your skin, your hair standing at attention in fear. This couldn’t be the end, you wanted to reach for the force, for comfort, for calm.

Three standard years had passed somewhat quietly and without much incident. The child was doing well, growing steadily in the peaceful home just over the mountains.

The anticipation of danger without knowing where Obi-Wan was and the looming threat of him and his Empire had washed any sort of safety.

Through the binoculars, a spot that was moving at rapid pace rose just above the horizon

A speeder, not of your own came across the desolate sand and rock.

Faster and faster it sped towards you. Glimpsing one last time into the binoculars before completely discarding them in your robes, your breathing hitched and your hand reached for the blaster hidden in your belt.

You didn’t raise to aim but you waited with a finger on the trigger. The speeder got louder and closer. Barreling towards you at unprecedented speed.

A figure with a dark hood and a heavy pack was now identifiable. Sighing you slipped the blaster back into the hidden holster, crossing your arms over your chest. Waiting.

“You scared the living stars out of me!” You huffed. “You know that?!” 

Obi-Wan Kenobi didn’t say anything as he powered the speeder down.

“You could’ve commed!” Your hands found your hips. Disappointed and mostly anxious. “Where were you and what is this?”

“Mos Eisley.” Obi-Wan sighed as he gracefully slid off the speeder. He nodded towards the faded-brown speeder. It wasn’t by any means a brand new speeder, it had blaster marks and sand erosion but it was nicer than the old piece of junk you two had salvaged from the Jundland wastes.

“We had a perfectly good one.”

“This one is faster and actually a two seater.” He countered

“We don’t have the credits Obi-Wan!”

“I’ll pick up a second job.”

Always the negotiator.

Huffing you left the older man with the speeder, vanishing into the hut to continue the dinner that was boiling on the stove. Rations again.

Stirring the pot of rice, you lost yourself into the swirls of brown and white. Letting the steam envelope your fear. Only did a warm hand on your waist, trying to squeeze by in the small surroundings pull you out.

“Excuse me.” You hummed as his hand dragged off your waist.

The hut was small, enough space for the two of you but none for a third. The entrance of the home opened to the living room, where in one corner was a makeshift bedroom that was concealed by a blanket you had found. You shared the bed. He had tried for the first cycle on Tatooine to sleep on the small, uncomfortable couch before you finally offered the other side of the bed.

The other corner was a small dining table with two chairs. The kitchen was a step up and had a window into the living space and only one bathroom that was old and needed work.

But it was home.

You ate in silence, feeling guilty of your outburst from earlier.

“I’m sorry for my reaction earlier. I was harsh.”

“It’s alright.” He gracefully spooned the soup into his mouth without another word. Obi-Wan cleared the plates and cleaned the dishes, humming a soft tune.

It wasn’t until you had both showered, hair still damp and covered in the blankets of your shared bed, you finally broke the silence.

“I checked on him while you were gone.” Your finger delicately traced the small constellations of freckles on his warm shoulder. “I wasn’t sure if you had or not.”

Obi-Wan shifted. “Thank you.”

“He’s so big now.”

“Yes, he is.”

“I can feel him in the force.” You could feel the buzz of the young boys force. Powerful and strong. You didn’t have to reach in to feel him.

“He’s very strong.” Obi-Wan shifted once more, his entire body now facing your own. His large, calloused hand reached into your hair, his thumb wiping away tears you hadn’t know had fallen.

“You feel it too?” You whispered.

“Yes.” He smiled bitterly. “I can feel his presence even now. I’m worried about his strength and what would happen if…”

Obi-Wan trailed off, unable to say the name out loud. Afraid to bring forth the man in existence right then and there in your shared bed.

“Vader.” You whispered for him.

He nodded, his hand still entwined.

Silence enveloped you once more. The blue light of the moon shining through the slotted windows and onto your faces.

“I’m scared.” You admitted, holding his gaze. “Lonely.”

He said nothing in return. His deep blue eyes scanned your face.

After three years, you had shared a last name. Paraded as a married couple to neighbors. Held hands through the market. Light touches as he brushed by. Held you sometimes at night.

But nothing more.

Obi-Wan’s hand untangled from your hair and down the slope of your neck. His thumb caressing the contour of your collarbone.

You thought he was going to kiss you. Finally slot his lips onto your own and maybe even take you right then.

But his hand completely withdrew from you, leaving the warm skin now bitter cold.

“Goodnight, y/n.” He turned over, his bare back now facing you.

“Goodnight, Ben.”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

␛ to masterlist | can I interest you in pt. 2?

[elliemarchetti]

All the Fear and the Fire

I did a thing for @elucienweekofficial’s day 3, I don’t know what it is, just know it’s inspired by Wasteland, Baby!

Prompt: Adventurers

Plot: Koschei won the war, and now Prythian is reduced to a wasteland. The survivors are few and scattered in what remains of the Seven Courts, but sometimes Elain dreams of them, so she teams up with Lucien to survive and rebuild their home.

Warning(s): most main characters are dead, Elain and Lucien are still on strange terms with each other and even though I reread the whole thing a hundred times no beta was involved.

Words: 1411

It was a cold night in the northern wasteland. It started to get chilly long before the sky finished its transition from the rush and amber streaked glow of sunset to the pallid bruised purple of twilight, but now that the shadows were all mixed together and the star-studded blackness of true night had set in, the temperatures had plummeted.

They were crossing a sandy expanse once belonging to the Day Court when she had started to get behind, unable to keep up with his long strides anymore. It was the silence that alerted him; their steps were muted by the fine debris, but he expected her to complain like she always did, or at least groan her fatigue to the darkening sky, instead, he found her with her hands on the small of her back, a sight that slightly knocked what wind still existed inside his body clean out of it. Because, well, that was a view from the days before, belonging to a place far away, to a sunny day refreshed by a light breeze that caressed an exposed belly full of a now dead baby. No matter Elain was in no fear of that condition, and she was lean, and eternally young, and fit to a fault, because she looked just about as ruined as her sister used to be, buckled up with the weight of complicated news and exhaustion.

“Can we stop?” she had asked, the spindly little wheedle of her voice cutting through the dirt, giving him pause and making him crook his head to look at her from under his hood. The smoky emptiness around them wasn’t the right location to camp, but she seemed sincere in her query, as if she couldn’t really understand there wasn’t a single good thing in the place.

He had replied only with a long silence, so she had thrown her head up toward the leaky gauze of the dirty clouds and made a sound partway wail, partway chuckle, mirthless and murky much like the heavens she was shouting at.

“Quit hollering,” he had warned her, resuming his march. “You never know what goddamn demon you’d be calling to come try you for a bite.”

He had thought she’d learned her lesson by now, but deep down she was still the fresh fawn he’d met that fateful day, scared by the world and yet still ready to put her nose to every flower and her fingers to every stone. She still hadn’t learned when to fold and when to fight back, but she was getting there, so she had moved until they reached what might’ve been an olive grove, the tree stumps burned and gnarled. Dead things crunched underfoot, bones or seeds or both, all mashed-up and slowly turning to dust. He listened for the sound of her following, a soft tread to his heavy steps, and let his body go quiet when he heard it.

It was the lay of the day and the growing ink of the night that had dragged them to the relatively intact temple. The door was missing, and nearly all the glasses were busted, but inside, aside the waste and ruin, the old world awaited in all its glory with hues of blue and lively yellow, the color of sunflowers and the Morrigan's hair, another futile loss in a war they had brought upon themselves almost by accident.

“We can stop here,” he said, anticipating an echo of his voice that never came. “For a night only, just so we’re clear.”

With a relieved sight she lowered the pack from her shoulders, and grime kissed her fingertips when she touched the pew she was standing closest to, the wood worn and weathered. The silvery moonlight coming from the window wrapped cool through her hair, climbing her face like ghostly vines, forking its way into the shadow of her ear. He felt something start in his stomach, watching her mirror movements she wasn’t even aware she was mirroring, his head over-full of thoughts, bursting at the seams.

“I haven’t been in one before,” she said.

“In a temple?” he questioned, waiting for her to reach him to the altar.

“I’ve seen images in books, read about them,” she explained. “But I guess I never thought they could be so pretty.”

“We seeing the same thing here, my lady?” he asked, and she threw him a look meant to whiter, something to which he wasn’t immune to, nor he could pretend he was, the tick at the arch of his cheekbones and the rumbled tremor of what might be his heartbeat in his ears proof enough.

When she took the last step, and was finally right in front of him, he noticed a bright red bead ready to spill from her left ring finger, so he flipped out a hand like she was some thorn in his side he can’t wait to pick out and crush under his heel – in a twisted and sick way, she fucking was – and he put her wound into his mouth, feeling like a monster watching the maid he kidnapped look horrified as he staunched her sweet, holy blood with his tongue.

“There,” he said tonelessly after he inspected the cut, the metal taste lingering on his buds. “All better now.”

After that, she made a bed for herself in the dipped stone beneath what was left of the altar. The cloth was gone, the little idols chipped and flayed, and she looked too dead with her arms crossed over her chest, her hands up to cup each bloom of shoulder.

“You cold?” he asked from his spot near the wall when she shivered, although he already knew the answer. He had watched her curl up like a baby under her threadbare blanket and he had begrudgingly given her his cloak too many times to keep acting like she was still some perfect stranger, but it was safer this way, it made easier to hawk up and spit out the thought of pulling her head into his lap to stroke her hair smooth against her skull until his warmth bled through into her skin.

“No,” she lied, part of a well-worn routine. He watched her a bit longer, listened as she chattered her pretty white teeth so hard it sounded like she was about to break every single one of them. As he did every night for the last couple weeks, he tried to not pay mind to it, to the thick plumes of white coming out of her mouth, because, after all, it wasn’t his problem, but the longer she chattered, the further he got annoyed. It was more disturbing than her usual blabbing, probably because she wasn’t doing it on purpose, and it pulled a string in his chest to see her fighting against something that will inevitably win. So he got up, threw his weapons and bandolier near her pack, and lay next to her, in hope to keep her warm enough to shut up. Slowly, he shrugged out of his long coat, the tattered ends unable to offer much protection but the fabric still warm and thick enough around the top to protect her from the creeping wind. Being so close to her was distasteful, and she will probably kick him once she woke, but for now the sleeping Elain had figured out there was a new heat source nearby and she turned to face him, one of her arms snaking around his waist and pulling herself as close as possible. When his mind still allowed him to sleep soundly enough, he happened to get lost in dreams of undone corsets, spills of white cotton and the cool skin underneath, but with the real Elain, her face nuzzled into the crook of his neck was enough to make his mind reeling from both shock and complete bafflement. He actually couldn’t remember the last time he had been hugged, let alone by a woman in a bed, if the alcove they were in could be called that, but it didn’t stop him from warming up her ribcage, the tender bloom of her throat and the notch of her collarbone.

“Better?” he asked, well aware she would’ve never replied, even if she was awake, so he snuffed a sound awfully similar to laughter and closed his eyes as well, hoping at least tomorrow on their walk, he was going to find her a better damn blanket than him.

[carnal-lnstinct]

Hi, I requested 💘 for the Valentine's Day event with Broly. Could you also add 💌 to that request? Please??

Broly | love confession

content: ( mutual crushing / pining, z!fighter reader, new friends to lovers, love confession ) warning: ( referenced canon-typical violence ) a/n: I accidentally deleted the first half of this ask while removing others I could not accept so I am winging it based on the hearts and I am sorry sender!

And at every table, I'll save you a seat, lover. - "Lover"

Imagine the Earth's surprise when another saiyan was discovered to have survived the desolation of Planet Vegeta. It wasn't until Bulla's birthday party and celebrating a year since the Tournament of Power did the rest of the earthling warriors have a formal introduction to Broly and his friends. Goku invited them all along to get away from the wasteland of Vampa and share some good food. Like the others, you didn't know what to think of them all. Especially Broly, and you were all right to be wary. The last birthday party you all attended with a surprise guest didn't quite go as planned but Goku was there to vouch for his new companions and reassured a pleasant event.

One by one, eventually everyone opened up and was able to get past the tension to enjoy yet another extravagant Brief Function. Somehow you managed to get to Broly when he was on his own. He stood over the spread of food with his hands already full, hurriedly packing the food in his mouth in the typical saiyan way yet somehow more savage. He didn't even strive to use the utensils around, simply grabbing with his bare hands what caught his eye and pushing it past his crowded maw in record time. You were hesitant to even try to build yourself a plate watching, afraid your hand may get caught in his path. Sensing the energy coming from him also dialed up your nerves being so close and without his admittedly sketchy companions that seemed to guide him. You would rather fight for your life in another Tournament of Power than go against this guy. Goku's sudden presence is what surprises you the most and exposed your staring however, his large hand clasping down on your shoulder and earning a frightful squeak alerting Broly to you both.

"Woah Broly, you might wanna take it easy! This food is for everyone to eat. (Y/n) here is waiting for her turn." Goku casually explained to the larger saiyan and you watch as Broly's eyes lowered down on you, your hands clenching your own plate at the natural glare but Goku gives you a slight nudge forward. "Don't worry, if I know Bulma there's plenty more tasty food where this came from!" He encouraged. You expected a response similar to the saiyans you've encountered in the past with a look like that but what followed completely caught you off guard.

Broly's brow furrowed with regret, his eyes softened at what he'd done. "Sorry." He utters gently, brushing his knuckles across his lips to wipe away the crumbs. Something in his expression embellished the sunlight reflecting his tan skin just right and shot through your chest, the word "adorable" crossed your thoughts when your heart skipped a beat. Your eyes, without thought, fall upon other handsome features of his physique that caused your face to shade with color. Only aware of your actions when Broly suddenly bows out of respect to you. "Please excuse me. You can eat now. The food is very good."

Your heart skipped again. "O-Oh. You don't have to be so formal with me. I'm just a guest like you. Feel free to keep eating, yourself. There's still plenty to go around!" You smiled. The little grin you got in return made your insides flutter. You continued to chat with the two saiyans before Goku departed at his wife's call to her side and for a slow and merry passage of time spanning only over an hour in reality, it was just you and Broly until one of his companions returned to his side.

That was the start of it, sharing stories of battles you've fought with good food and getting to know each other. Despite his intimidating power, he was so kind and well-mannered but brief with his words. There was plenty more to learn but you sadly had to part once the party ended and they had to return to Vampa. Not before you invited Broly and his friends back to earth for lunch in an effort to keep the pleasantries going, but mostly to allow them all to explore more of the wonders of food there was to offer. The two former Frieza Force members seemed cautious of trusting your intentions but after getting to know most of the earthlings already there was nothing to really worry about. Promises of more earth food tended to be persuasive these days, as well.

It was how you wound up becoming closer friends with the trio, but mostly out of intrigue of Broly. There was an attraction for him and how he got acquainted with the norms of the world whenever he visited with Goku. It told a story that Broly didn't seem ready to discuss and Cheelai and Lemo would insist on not prying.

But it became easier and more frequent to meet up when the trio moved to Earth, the planet Vampa now used as training grounds for Goku and Broly after the unforeseen destruction of their capsule home during one of their sessions. While the earth wasn't fit for a real training session, his living here now gave you the chance to also show off some of your own techniques. Being warriors truly helped grow your bond and it started to become clear your attraction wasn't one-sided. Soon you were eating together almost every day before and after his training, and you couldn't help to notice how he sat closer to you each time whenever you were alone. Your trained eye would catch the glances he cast your way and the tug at the corner of his lips when you tried to meet his gaze, but he turns away.

You then scooted a little closer and took his hand between your own, Broly turning back to you in slight surprise. You looked up at him with a big, yet bashful grin. You lean into his arm and pressed your forehead against his shoulder, wrapping one of your arms around his to secure yourself at his side. "This is nice?"

The new closeness relaxed him and you could feel his muscles unwind in a single, deep breath. "It is." Broly agreed with an affirming nod and a warmed smile. His other hand touches your arm hung up on his, his rough fingers brushing down the exposed skin. "Nice... (Y/n)?"

"Yeah?"

"I like spending time on Earth with you." He confided. "It is all nice. Much nicer than... where I was before." If it were possible to stay here forever, he would like to. But he does have a promise to his other friends to keep. They do enjoy the luxuries of Earth, but it does not seem to be their final destination. Where your hands meet, you close your fingers around his.

"You're always welcome, Broly. I really like having you here." Your hand is squeezed in return.

"Thank you. For being my friend."

"I think...we could be more than friends, too. I-If that's something you'd like. I-I would." You stuttered through your nerves suddenly building up.

"More than friends?" He asked, first genuinely perplexed by what was implied but then he came to his own conclusion. He turns to face you, a brightness in his eyes. "You want to come with us? I would like that."

"That...wasn't exactly what I meant." But you figured it was too good to be true the little group would permanently live on Earth where you and Broly could try moving to the next level. "Travelling through space, though? I thought those days were behind me." You laughed to yourself. It's been years and it wasn't a pleasant memory. "I don't know about that, Broly. I'm pretty cozy here on Earth."

"I can keep you safe." He insisted, his large hands grasping you affirming his excitement. "All of us." Broly nods. He wants you to say yes, he wants to stay in your presence and feel your warmth at his side. Your face showed hesitation, but, persuaded, you smile at him in return.

[high-fantasy-sw]

Mandalorians!

Their culture is an integral part to the clones, especially the older generation clones like Cody and Rex, I'd like to know more about how they fit into this universe and how they contribute to it.

Everything from their songs (which they ahve a lot of) to their weapons (again, they have quite a bit of this). How does beskar fit into all this? What of the Kryze sisters and Korkie? And Death Watch? Jango and Boba Fett? The Cuy'val Dar and how they trained the troopers?

Oh! And what about our beloved Kamas?

Just...splurge about the Mandos to me

:DDDDDD YESSS SO MANY QUESTIONS LET ME ANSWER THEM ALL

Okay! So. Part one. Mandos. Let's go. I'm gonna zero in on a few specific things about Mandalorian culture here, because across the AU I tend not to change a lot of established, canon lore in terms of detraction. I (usually) operate on a policy of "keep everything that's canon, adapt certain things to fit a fantasy aesthetic rather than a science fiction one, and add whatever I think is cool". For an example of what I mean by this, I'd advise you to go check out my post about Togrutas in the AU.

With this being said, that means that the established Mandalorian culture is pretty much the same as in canon. Therefore, I am choosing to highlight the additions I have made and several adaptations to existing cultural items and practices.

One more thing to keep in mind: as made abundantly clear by this point, in HFSW the Mandalorians are based upon Ancient Rome. I cannot promise complete historical accuracy, in fact I will go so far as to not promise any historical accuracy, but as a Latin student, history buff, and the co-consul of my school's Latin Club, it was too perfect an opportunity for me to resist.

Art Forms: Other than their beskar, the Mandalorians are famed for one other art form: their gorgeous stained glass. (This was actually one of the very first things I knew I wanted to add to the AU.) Ever since the island was cursed so many years ago in the Jedi-Mandalorian Crusades and turned mostly to a barren wasteland of sand, the people of Mandalore and its surrounding island territories put their hallmark resilience to the front again: they melted it down and made something of it. Combine that with traditional Mandalorian Color Symbolism, and the glass became almost as important as the beskar'gam itself. By the time of the Clone Wars, it can be found in use for practical purposes (glassware such as cups and vases, as well as the domes of Mandalore Proper's famed domed cities), art (windows and even blown-glass sculptures), and jewelry (some of the more crafty have even found ways to work it into their armor), to name a few examples. In addition, and especially under Satine's rule, other forms of the arts flourish on Mandalore Proper and its island territories, such as frescoes, mosaics, architecture, and theatre.

Gear and Weaponry, specifically Jet Packs: The beskar'gam is still the most important aspect of Mandalorian culture, although- unfortunately- I haven't actually had the time to design what it would look like for the AU yet. (I'm working on it.) It's still made of beskar, beskar is still only found on Mandalorian islands, armorers are still the ones in charge of its creation and maintenance, et cetera. Mandalorians fight with almost all weaponry found under the sun, although the vast majority of them favor spears and javelins, or knives (mostly daggers, although throwing knives are not unheard of). The Darksaber has a serrated blade, and due to its being forged of beskar, when ignited by a force-sensitive it crackles with lightning rather than fire. Jet packs (haven't thought of an appropriately fantasy name for them yet) are a creation of the Mandalorians, and are- essentially- fully-jointed, mechanical wings mounted on a harness. It's very cool. I shall have art of it for you soon, when I actually get around to designing beskar'gam. (As for your question about kamas: I'm gonna answer that when I get around to the more Clone-centric asks. I didn't forget, I'm just saving it for later)

Songs: Mandalorian songs are of wide and varied style and genre, from ballads to elegies to rousing tavern-songs, and every kind in-between. They are written in Basic, Mando'a, or Old Mando'a (though these are usually more traditional, ancient songs; with very few exceptions, more modern songs are not composed in Old Mando'a). I will talk more about songs, though, when I get to your more Clone-centric questions, because song is a hugely important part of Clone Culture in this AU and I want to do most of the heavy lifting there.

AAASDFGHJKL YOUR QUESTIONS ARE SO GOOD AND I AM SO LOOKING FORWARD TO ANSWERING ALL OF THEM!!! Also I got the message in your last ask; PLEASE don't be afraid to shoot me as many as you want, I will answer literally any question you throw at me because I am so starved for people to talk to me about this AU. AUGH MAY YOU'RE THE BEST :D

This concludes part one!! (it's almost 1 AM in my time zone right now so i'm gonna clock out and get some sleep BUT I WILL BE ANSWERING THE REST OF YOUR QUESTIONS TOMORROW)

[nerdygoth77]

Re: Fallout Equines

This might be a bit out there, but do you think there's a similar place for Zebras in the Fallout world? Both in terms of serving those in South-East Africa but also we know from Nuka World's Gazelles and Ghoulrillas that the survival of captive zoo animals is absolutely in play. I imagine the big challenge there is that they aren't really domesticated, but I'm sure over 200 years it could work out?

I have actually thought about this a lot!!! Like a lot, lol

Thank you so so much for your ask!! I love questions like this!! :)

I love the thought of zebras as vicious mounts for the people of the wastelands, but sadly zebras do not have the build to carry weight. They simply are not built for riding, despite what some may say. Why is that? Well! Their bone structure is quite different from horses.

They are incredible equines but they cannot be ridden, nor are they the friendliest or easiest to train. We actually had one come through our rescue a while back and I don't think I've met a more mean and fierce equine. Strongest bite i've ever felt too!! (Luckily I didn't have to experience the kicks) And I've met some real fiery and pissed off equines. So I bet Zebra's would not work out the best for a form of mount or labor, but hybrids? I could see how they would work out well!!

Zorses, a mix between a horse and a zebra, still have some fierce and feral tendencies and can be difficult to train, but they do have the structural build to carry weight and haul. Zonkeys, a mix between a zebra and a donkey would maybe be alright for some forms of labor but their build would not be very good for much carrying. So Zorses would be the best option. Almost all mules are sadly sterile, since they are also a hybrid. So Zorses, I believe, are as well. So it would require a permeant breeder of a horse and a zebra somewhere out there in the wasteland. They'd be harder to find naturally running in herds like horses and zebras do.

I have actually thought about the use of zorses in Nuka World extensively. Like I have written multiple ideas and even a large portion of a fanfiction about these animals. I love to picture zebras and horses, along with donkeys, surviving in and around Nuka World. Just like the Gazelles, Ghoulrillas, and Brahmiluff(mutated buffalo)

I also love to picture the raiders of Nuka World using equines for multiple reasons, especially as mounts.

I have a work in progress fic about my OC overboss of Nuka World, Lilly. And her relationship with Porter Gage and their story of turning Nuka World into a raider empire. In this story they manage to keep all three gangs alive by spreading their territory to the river valley surrounding Nuka World. Taking over the old farmlands and town of Bradberton. In my little fallout world The Pack uses their animals for many many crucial things, like their dogs for hunting and their equines for many different things like mounts and haulers. and I like to think their main mount/riding horses are actually hybrids. Some form of mutated Zorse, maybe they even have mutated enough to breed on their own and have more abilities that Zorses would lack, like extra carrying strength and thicker fur for the appalcian winters. Zorses would already have an incredible advantage over horses, they would be incredibly powerful and vicious animals. They'd have the build of a horse but the viciousness of a zebra, with incredibly strong hooves and teeth that were made for murder. They'd be extra surefooted and muscular, with the ability to survive on little water and limited grass. They'd be harder to train, but in my Au the Pack has a few horse trainers, including an old world horse trainer who is a ghoul OC of mine. They train their zorses not just in bravery, but they are absolutely trained to bite and trample enemies. Their powerful bites, kicks and stomps are taken advantage of by the raiders of Nuka World. I also see The Pack painting the Zorses colorful patterns involving their equine striped patterning.

[ragedagainst]

bold what applies to your muse; italicize what sometimes applies; strike what never applies.

► AESTHETIC -- dark colors. bright colors.  neon colors.  soft colors.  blood.  forests.  space.  mansions.  ghosts.  asylums.  wastelands.  fire.  injuries.  hands. dolls.  fog.  storms.  galaxies.  snow.  dawn.  midnight.  cold.  animals.  sharp teeth.  neck.  shoulders.  bruises.  freckles.  legs.  feminine.  masculine.  burns.  weapons.  colorful hair.  witchcraft.  lips.  webs.  fields.  corn fields.  tears.  sweat.  glitter.  flowers.  plants.  magic.  fear.  pain.  murder.  guns.  scars.  missing posters.  old paintings.  strange eyes. explosions.  creatures.  lingerie.  kissing.  playfulness. metal.  diamonds.  rust.  iron.  stealth.  running away.  steel.  glass.  wood.  porcelain.  paper.  fur.  lace.  leather.  synthetics.  robots. droids.  monsters.  childhood fears.  cigarettes.  alcohol.  cameras.  video cameras.  polaroid cameras.  phones.  computers.  war.  peace.  angels. demons.  decay.  sadness.  red lipstick.  powder puffs.  abandoned cars.  skeletons.  strangling.  overcoats.  puppets.  torture. ptsd.  insomnia.  old cottages.  loyalty.  hospitals. syringes.  bared teeth.  scary basements.  butterflies.  prosthetic limbs.  cats.  dogs.  dreams.  burned-out buildings.  armor.

► APPEARANCE -- thick waist. narrow waist.  narrow hips.  average hips.  wide hips.  curvy frame.  muscular frame.  chubby frame.  petite frame.  lanky frame.  voluptuous frame.  lean frame.  skinny.  long legs.  stumpy.  average legs.  thick thighs.  muscular thighs.  toned thighs.  slender thighs.  beer belly.  toned stomach.  flat stomach. feminine frame.  masculine frame.  six pack.  harsh facial features.  baby face. shaved face.  soft features.  angular features.  square jaw.  beard. five o'clock shadow. freckles.  scars.  moles.  dimples.  braces.  tattoos.  piercings.  pigtails.  messy hair.  pixie cut.  bald.  long hair.  shaved head.  ponytail.  clipped-back fringe.  shoulder length.  bob cut.  old-fashioned hairstyle.  dreadlocks.  bun.  braids.  shaved side.  mohawk.  buzz cut.  afro.  asymmetric.  crown braid. wavy. short.  cotton buns.  fade.  comb over.  side part.  other.

► WARDROBE -- tight pants. denim jeans  cargo pants.  fatigues.  chinos.  khakis.  dress slacks.  slim-fit.  dockers.  pajama bottoms.  shorts.  short-shorts.  jean shorts.  dungarees.  skirt-overalls.  pencil skirt.  long skirt.  mini skirt.  tutu.  leggings.  sports bra.  yoga pants.  basketball shorts.  joggers.  sweats.  sweater.  sweater vest.  vest.  t-shirt. tank undershirt. long-sleeve.  tight shirts.  polo shirt.  athletic shirt.  cardigan.  button-up shirt.  v-neck. henley.  flannels.  plaid. crop top.  tank top.  blouse.  racerback shirts.  boob tube.  sundress.  1-shoulder dress.  strapless.  jumper dress.  apron dress.  dress shirt.  ball gown.  nightgown.  hoodies.  army jacket.  mechanic coveralls.  trench coat.  bomber jacket.  sport coat. leather jacket.  lots of layers.  uniform.  dress uniform. armor.  bare feet. high heels.  ballet shoes.  jelly shoes.  flip-flops.  sandals.  rain boots.  sneakers.  pumps.  flats.  thigh-high boots.  cowboy boots. timberland boots. doc martens.  slip-ons.  slippers.  motorcycle boots.  chukkas.  loafers.  dress boots.  knee boots. riding boots.  knee-high socks.  socks.  hose.  stockings.  beanies.  top hat.  sunhat.  newsboy cap.  fedora.  baseball cap. belt.  tool / utility belt.  gloves.

► HAS YOUR MUSE EVER… broken a bone. had a near death experience.  killed someone (and succeeded). saved a life.  self-harmed.  attempted suicide. had surgery.  kissed the same gender/sex.  had sex.  had sex and regretted it. lost a loved one.  had a pet.  gotten arrested.  gotten married.  divorced. cheated.  gotten shot.  been stabbed.  witnessed death.  taken drugs. gotten drunk. kept a promise you regretted.  played with an ouija board. seen a ghost.  been in a car accident.  gotten stitches. suffered from amnesia. survived a natural disaster. survived an assassination attempt. survived a plane / ship crash. been framed. gone undercover. faked death. assumed a fake identity. led a double life.  invented something. had something slipped in their food / drink.  been kidnapped. been taken hostage.  been sexually assaulted.  been bullied.  bullied someone.  had a stalker. been betrayed.  been a traitor. been blackmailed.  been abused.  gotten away with crime. killed someone (and failed).

tagged by: @stillsolo thank you so much! tagging: @deadmare , @proditeur , @enchaentd , @strnza , @guttcrson , @sectyr , @profecier , and you !!

[stillsolo]

bold what applies to your muse; italicize what sometimes applies; strike what never applies.

► AESTHETIC dark colors. bright colors.  neon colors.  soft colors.  BLOOD.  forests.  SPACE.  mansions.  ghosts.  asylums.  wastelands.  fire.  INJURIES.  HANDS. dolls.  fog.  STORMS.  GALAXIES.  snow.  DAWN.  MIDNIGHT.  cold.  animals.  sharp teeth.  neck.  shoulders.  BRUISES.  freckles.  legs.  feminine.  MASCULINE.  burns.  WEAPONS.  colorful hair.  witchcraft.  lips.  webs.  fields.  corn fields.  TEARS.  SWEAT.  glitter.  flowers.  plants.  magic.  FEAR.  PAIN.  MURDER.  GUNS.  SCARS.  MISSING POSTERS.  old paintings.  strange eyes.  EXPLOSIONS.  creatures.  lingerie.  KISSING.  PLAYFULNESS.  METAL.  diamonds.  RUST.  IRON.  STEALTH.  RUNNING AWAY.  STEEL.  glass.  wood.  porcelain.  paper.  FUR.  lace.  LEATHER.  synthetics.  robots. DROIDS.  monsters.  CHILDHOOD FEARS.  cigarettes.  ALCOHOL.  cameras.  video cameras.  polaroid cameras.  phones.  computers.  WAR.  PEACE.  angels. demons.  decay.  sadness.  red lipstick.  powder puffs.  ABANDONED CARS.  skeletons.  strangling.  overcoats.  puppets.  torture. PTSD.  INSOMNIA.  old cottages.  LOYALTY.  hospitals. syringes.  BARED TEETH.  scary basements.  butterflies.  prosthetic limbs.  cats.  dogs.  dreams.  burned-out buildings.  armor.

► APPEARANCE thick waist. NARROW WAIST.  NARROW HIPS.  average hips.  wide hips.  curvy frame.  muscular frame.  chubby frame.  petite frame.  lanky frame.  voluptuous frame.  LEAN FRAME.  SKINNY.  LONG LEGS.  stumpy.  average legs.  thick thighs.  muscular thighs.  TONED THIGHS.  slender thighs.  beer belly.  toned stomach.  flat stomach. feminine frame.  MASCULINE FRAME.  six pack.  harsh facial features.  baby face. SHAVED FACE.  soft features.  angular features.  square jaw.  beard. FIVE O'CLOCK SHADOW. freckles.  SCARS.  moles.  dimples.  braces.  tattoos.  piercings.  pigtails.  MESSY HAIR.  pixie cut.  bald.  long hair.  shaved head.  ponytail.  clipped-back fringe.  shoulder length.  bob cut.  old-fashioned hairstyle.  dreadlocks.  bun.  braids.  shaved side.  mohawk.  buzz cut.  afro.  asymmetric.  crown braid.  WAVY. SHORT.  cotton buns.  fade.  comb over.  side part.  other.

► WARDROBE tight pants. DENIM JEANS.  cargo pants.  fatigues.  chinos.  khakis.  dress slacks.  SLIM-FIT.  dockers.  pajama bottoms.  shorts.  short-shorts.  jean shorts.  dungarees.  skirt-overalls.  pencil skirt.  long skirt.  mini skirt.  tutu.  leggings.  sports bra.  yoga pants.  basketball shorts.  joggers.  sweats.  sweater.  sweater vest.  VEST.  t-shirt. TANK UNDERSHIRT. LONG-SLEEVE.  tight shirts.  polo shirt.  athletic shirt.  cardigan.  button-up shirt.  v-neck. henley.  flannels.  plaid. crop top.  tank top.  blouse.  racerback shirts.  boob tube.  sundress.  1-shoulder dress.  strapless.  jumper dress.  apron dress.  dress shirt.  ball gown.  nightgown.  hoodies.  army jacket.  MECHANIC COVERALLS.  trench coat.  BOMBER JACKET.  sport coat.  LEATHER JACKET.  lots of layers.  uniform.  dress uniform. armor.  bare feet. high heels.  ballet shoes.  jelly shoes.  flip-flops.  sandals.  rain boots.  sneakers.  pumps.  flats.  thigh-high boots.  cowboy boots. timberland boots. doc martens.  slip-ons.  slippers.  MOTORCYCLE BOOTS.  chukkas.  loafers.  dress boots.  knee boots. RIDING BOOTS.  knee-high socks.  SOCKS.  hose.  stockings.  beanies.  top hat.  sunhat.  newsboy cap.  fedora.  baseball cap. BELT.  TOOL / UTILITY BELT.  gloves.

► HAS YOUR MUSE EVER… BROKEN A BONE. HAD A NEAR-DEATH EXPERIENCE.  KILLED SOMEONE (AND SUCCEEDED). SAVED A LIFE.  self-harmed.  attempted suicide.  HAD SURGERY.  KISSED THE SAME GENDER/SEX.  HAD SEX.  had sex and regretted it. LOST A LOVED ONE.  had a pet.  GOTTEN ARRESTED.  gotten married.  divorced. cheated.  GOTTEN SHOT.  BEEN STABBED.  WITNESSED DEATH.  taken drugs. GOTTEN DRUNK. kept a promise you regretted.  played with an ouija board. seen a ghost.  been in a car accident.  GOTTEN STITCHES. suffered from amnesia. survived a natural disaster. survived an assassination attempt. SURVIVED A PLANE / SHIP CRASH. been framed. gone undercover. faked death. ASSUMED A FAKE IDENTITY. led a double life.  invented something. HAD SOMETHING SLIPPED INTO THEIR FOOD / DRINK.  BEEN KIDNAPPED. BEEN TAKEN HOSTAGE.  been sexually assaulted.  BEEN BULLIED.  bullied someone.  had a stalker.  BEEN BETRAYED.  been a traitor. been blackmailed.  BEEN ABUSED.  GOTTEN AWAY WITH CRIME. KILLED SOMEONE (AND FAILED).

tagging: @techniiciian @tapalslegacy @magikborn ( violet? ) @ragedagainst @intcthatgoodnight ( dexter? ) @hoovedrycal & you!!

[sergeantnarwhalwrites]

Tharion Fucking With Arc

Arc actually trying to learn more about Tharion in the last one. Tharion bored and fucking with Arc this time. Yes more SDDF stuff wrote straight into tumblr.

Tag list: @outpost51 @nanashi23 @winterandwords @jezifster @kk7-rbs @aether-wasteland-s @dumbthunder @manathen @the-void-writes @livums @vacantgodling (Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!) 

"Aren't Cosma and Greeter companions?" Arc asked with crossed arms.

Tharion's eyes darted to Arc in one fluid motion. There was a lot of ambiguity in the word in their culture. Pretty vague until the people of interest went to describe it. And their tone gave no indication of their meaning. Which did speak towards the fighter a bit. But it was hard to tell when they didn't offer much beyond the usual in conversations about themself.

Tharion attempted to adjust to the random prompting by Arc. He'd pieced together by now that Arc was looking for amusement.

"They do love each other beyond just crew standards. I don't know if they know that though."

Arc giggled fiendish. Like a mischievous child and this time hadn't swung an arm back into Tharion. He reflexively put more distance between them. Considering Arc's arm had smacked the color from his vision last time.

"That's almost charming," Arc said between his fit of giggles.

Tharion agreed but hadn't been able to restrain the look on his face, not that Arc cared, "So you knew?"

"Do you think I'm an idiot just because I'm loveless? Cosma's motives are iffy to me but we signed up for this," Arc responded, placing a hand on his whip, "And I'm looking No Name in the eyes."

Tharion felt a smile crawl across his face, "I don't think many fighters would have the same thought."

Tharion watched them and waited. Tapping his claws on his thigh. He had interacted with many fighters. Both as a fighter and as a bridge. And Tharion had determined they all had their minor differences but it was too easy to pack most into their respective boxes. The common loyalty to their religion bonding them. And every being—even fighters—were weak to sex or attention. He briefly wondered if it was either or both for Arc.

Tharion personally figured prodding at them would be an amusing way to use his time while they waited for Cosma.

"Our god's got the largest following. Bound to happen right?" Arc responded easy.

Tharion hummed contemplative. Arc rolled their eyes as soon as they heard it. A couple smaller beasts Cosma had in containment filled the room with noise. Tharion let their loud chatter mingle with his thoughts.

"You disagree," The fighter said expectantly.

"No."

Arc stared at Tharion, their eyes widening briefly.

"Really?"

"I don't fully disagree."

Arc rolled their eyes again, gaze drifting towards the entrance and back to Tharion.

"I don't think Cosma's motives are iffy. Just her plan and how she's going about it." Tharion heard them sucking their teeth before they added, "Many of your fellow fighters fell in front of me for their religious fervor. You bowed in front of me too."

Arc's brows scrunched, "Devotion and loyalty doesn't have to tie with that."

"See and that's what makes you so interesting. You fight for a planet our god abandoned, you fight under a god that you can't love. I bet you even fuck under obligation."

Arc was fast to bite back, annoyed now to be caught under fire. They roughly ran their palms over their head, needing to busy their hands.

"And what would you have expected me to pay you with to get in touch with No Name?"

Tharion's finger followed along the shell of Arc's ear. He could practically spell out the insinuation in Arc's tone. Deciding not to point out how the fighter hadn't flinched away.

"And I thought you said you weren't an idiot," Tharion taunted, amused by the growl of frustration that flowed between the two, "Had you never spoke to a bridge before me?"

Tharion's claws dug into Arc's skin, knowing the fighter was tensing up in his grip. His claws sinking in further when Arc's hands moved to his chest.

Cosma's heavy footfalls caught both of their attentions. Arc pushing Tharion hard enough to make some space again. They cracked their neck and grumbled.

Tharion hummed just to piss Arc off, "Just like a fighter to try to treat a bridge poorly."

Cosma called out to them before Arc's foot could knock Tharion's feet out beneath him.