#follow nick or perish

[winniethewife]

But he fell in love with the fever

(Sodo X F!Reader)

Prompt: Temperature play

Words: 1495

Warnings: Smut under the cut, Funky Ghoul anatomy, oral sex (Fem!receiving), spit kink, PinV sex, degradation, Praise, Good Girl, unprotected sex

A/N: For my Event Nine weeks in hell, and Kinktober, Thank you @midgardian-witch for beta reading

Months of heated glances across the room and passing comments between them had led to tension between them that you could cut like butter. So by the time they finally actually got together the entire ministry was thankful. It was a Friday evening, the sun was setting on another productive day and as she left the offices she was face to face with her paramour.

“Sodo, hope you weren’t waiting too long for me.” She grins at him as his cat-like eyes light up at the sight of her.

“I’d wait forever and a day to see you.” He purred, taking his hand in hers, pressing a kiss to her knuckles as he looked at her reverently. When she smiled warmly and used his grip to pull him into her embrace he felt the constant warmth in his chest flicker like a candle. Her fingers trace the line of his jaw as she leans in closer.

“I’d never make you wait that long for me darling.” She muttered softly. Sodo smiles and presses his forehead to hers, taking in her scent, letting all of her fill his senses. He needed to take her to bed, and he needed to do it now.

~

Sodo left a series of hot open mouth kisses over her body as he continued downward, dragging his hand along her skin, the hot oil dripping from his fingertips, warmed by his elemental heat, burning her skin in the most thrilling way. She shivered under his touch, his tongue leaving a trail of heat down her stomach, the heat of his breath on her cunt making her clench down on absolutely nothing. Her eyes rolled back in her head as she felt the oil drip down her sides.

“Fuck…Sodo…Please, Need to…need you.” She pleads with him. Sodo lets the last of the massage oil drip from his hand before pressing down on her stomach, his long fingers splayed out along her pelvis as he licks a stripe of heat along her folds. She whimpers as he growls into her core. His fangs just slightly nick her skin as he fully indulges in her cunt. His tongue buried deep in her folds as his nose rubs against her clit drawing the moans he so desperately wishes to hear from her mouth as he slides his tongue inside her. If he had his wish he would simply drown here, it would be the perfect place to perish, his last moments spent between her thighs, enveloped entirely in her. He wants to live and breathe her for the rest of eternity. He would die happily with her taste on his teeth, her scent filling his mind with delicious ecstasy. The feeling of her fingers weaving through his hair, pulling him away brings him back to reality, he raises his head from the depths of her and looks at her with curiosity. She beckons him back up to her and he obediently follows her call.

“Too much baby?” He asked playfully as he carefully drags his nails along her lower stomach, his touch is like an inferno, heating the mix of sweat and massage oil on her as she chuckles softly.

“Your mouth is really, really hot. Cunt needs to breathe a little Hun.” She explains breathlessly.  Sodo grinned as she said this, he loved how much of an effect he had on her. He props himself up on his arms hovering over her, his eyes seeking any sign of hesitation in her expression before resting his hips on hers, his hard on pressing on her abdomen as he strategically leans his body on hers, relishing the feeling of his heat against her. She lets out a soft groan as his lips make contact with the soft skin of her neck, his tongue pressed against her pulse point, it burns. Her hands reacted to the sting by reaching to grab his head, fingers wrapped around his horn tugging gently. Sodo moans softly into her skin and thrusts his hips into hers, his cock rubs against her, drawing another pleased sound from his lips. He sighs deeply and looks up at her, pupils blown with desire.

“Please…I don’t want to wait, I wanna feel you inside me.” She said caressing his sharp jaw, his chin in her hand as her half-lidded eyes met his. He didn’t need to be asked twice, pushing himself back onto his knees to line himself up with her, moving the tip of his cock between her wet folds, gathering her slick on him, but he wasn’t satisfied with it. Holding his palm up to her mouth, pressing the side of his hand to her chin just hard enough to part her lips.

“Spit like the good little whore I know you are.” He growls. She follows his command without question, gathering spit in her mouth and pushing it out from between her lips into his hand.. “Good girl” he croons as he drags his wet hand over his length, until he’s finally satisfied with the sensation, lifting one of her legs onto his shoulder as he pressed himself into her. Both of them let out groans of pleasure as he fills her to the hilt. Her hands grip the sheets as she feels the stretch of her cunt taking in all of him. He stills inside of her, giving her a moment to get used to the feeling of him, and only when she nods does he begin to move. “Mmm, Look at you, taking all of me like that, hell’s you’re perfect.”

“Ngh…Sodo…I…Fuck you feel so good. Too good.” She pants, her hands reaching up to hold his face. She wanted to look at him as he sinks into her again and again in rapid succession, see the look on his face when she clenches around him, she wants to observe every change in his expression, she hopes to document each moment in her mind's eye, keep every part of him in this moment close to her heart.

“Fuck, you know you’re mine baby? You know this cunt only belongs to one ghoul, and nobody else?” His voice drips with possessiveness as his hips cant into hers, moving with intention. He looks down on her as he clutches at her ankle, his arm wrapped around her leg, leaving red streaks from his nails. “You’re mine…say it...Tell me who you belong to darling…”

“You…You Sodo…fu-You…I’m yours. No one else can fuck me like you do. No one else gets to even try.” She whines, trying her best to form sentences as he hits just the right spot inside her, scrambling her brain. Of course her words only encourage him, lifting her other leg over his shoulder as he doubles down, growling as he starts to fuck into her faster, harder, pressing her into the bed. She feels the pleasure pooling in her stomach as the feeling of her impending climax starts to take over her every cell. Her breath hitches in her chest as she manages to utter his name out before the waves of pleasure wash up on her shore. With the feeling of her bearing down on him, Sodo feels his own release mounting, his rhythm stutters slightly as she feels the boiling heat inside of him. The pressure of it all was almost overwhelming, like if he didn’t figure out how to move past it he would erupt. An animalistic groan emits from the back of his throat as he manages at the last second to pull out his cock from inside her and his seed spills across her stomach, a final moment of overwhelming heat, leaving the slightest red marks on her skin where it gathers.

“Damn, you’re so fucking pretty baby, with my cum all over you…” Sodo says with a growl of appreciation. He moves to grab one of the damp cloths to reluctantly wipe her down, his eyes lingering on the marks that he had left. Once she was cleaned up Sodo curls up beside her holding her close, his arms going under her shoulders to hold the back of her head and the base of her neck in his hands as he presses feather light kisses all over her face. “You’re perfect.” he mumbles.

“If I’m perfect, you must be…ugh I can’t think of words, you fucked them all out of me.” She laughed as she tried to think straight. He joined in her laughter.

“Well good, that means you can’t argue with me about how amazing you are for once.” He teased. She scoffed.

“Whatever, you fuckin’…Human shaped furnace.” She playfully mocked him in a sleepy manner. He looked at her with mock offense.

“Well I never…” but before he could finish his thought she had already fallen asleep, nuzzling her face into his hand. He smiles and runs his thumb over her cheek. They could argue about semantics in the morning. For now, he held his definition of perfection in his hands. 

~

Masterlist

Taglist: : @silvernight-m @queerponcho @boredzillenial

[baddieladdie]

Hello!! So I'm an RPer (gross) and I dabble with Joshua Graham. I do cross-canon occasionally and I have stumbled on weird romantic (maybe??) tension with him and RE5/blonde Jill Valentine based on the fact they both were manipulated by someone they respected and did horrible things (even if hers were against her will and he did them by choice) and it's become this heavy, weird tension full of lame, longing gazes and pretty decent fight scenes! Is it possible to get them together? 😬

Regardless, stumbled on your work and I love it!! 😍

I have not played Resident Evil, actually! I had to look up who Jill Valentine was, at first I thought she was Nick Valentine's daughter in some AU\

SO - How 'bout this? I will get us started with some opening context on Joshua Graham. Then you could take it from there? I have a feeling you are a bit more familiar with Jill than I am :)

Tag me if you add on to this - I'd love to give a read!

An idea for a structure could be:

Ch1 - Joshua Graham (see below the cut) Ch2 - Jill Valentine Ch3 - Combat/Meet-cute, Joshua and Jill meet in fire fight Ch4 - Connection/Tension/Romance

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>><<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<

Rating: Teen

Description: Mormon missionary turned co-founder of Caesar's Legion now roams Zion under the guise of folk legends as the Burned Man. He is haunted by his actions while part of the Legion, yet cannot so easily release his dependence on violence as he leads a vicious campaign to bring 'God's justice' to all those who would threaten the safety of the innocent.

Joshua drags his thumb across the bumpy ridges of his Bible. Absent-mindedly, he traces each letter stitched into the black leather. The book was worn down. It could hardly be recognized for what it was - the Holy word of God. The book, like Joshua the man, had been irritably changed in time by the unforgiving nature of this mortal life. Joshua flips through the book, pausing at a page crinkled by a dried blood stain.

18 For you know that it was not with perishable things such as silver or gold that you were redeemed from the empty way of life handed down to you from your ancestors, 19 but with the precious blood of Christ, a lamb without blemish or defect. 1 Peter 1:18-19

“Divide et impera,”  Edward exclaimed, gesturing to his beloved novel ‘Commentarii de Bello Gallico’. “Divide and Conquer. Joshua, this is just like the Roman Empire of great! We conquer these tribes and we make them better. Stronger! Outfit them with weapons and battle strategies. From this tribal strife, we will raise a great and mighty empire!” Sallow laughed with cynical joy.

“It is brutal,” Joshua mumbled in thought. Edward had studied all his life with the Followers of the Apocalypse. His knowledge of societal development and anthropology were next to none. Perhaps Sallows knew something he didn’t. And the good Lord knows it’s good to have friends. He should trust Edward to the very end. Joshua nodded hesitantly,“What better way to unify these groups than under the threat of death. They would have a better chance of surviving if they worked together.” 

“Yes, yes!” Edward walked around the table to get closer to the hesitant missionary and man he called friend. “Leave the brutality to the soldiers. I-” He awkwardly cleared his throat and corrected himself, “We only need you to translate.” He gestured openly with a wide smile. “You’ll never have an opportunity like this again, my friend.”

So that is what Joshua Graham did. He translated for Edward as he spoke to the crowds of tribals he had gathered. But soon, translating became giving orders. Giving orders slowly became leading in battle. Leading in battle became training, punishing, terrorizing. A series of small mistakes before Joshua Graham's great fall.

In time, he would become Caesar’s second in command and most trusted advisor. Never had Graham held such power. Death came as he demanded it. Riches poured from the Earth as he wished it. It was as if the very thread of fate was his to design. 

Cursed is everyone who is hung on a pole. Galatians 3:13

Sweat beaded at the tip of Joshua’s nose as the Mojave sun beat down on him. Sand carried in the wind irritated his skin. He cursed, putting the hammer down for a moment to adjust the legionary mask snuggly around his nose and mouth.

“Please, I haven’t done anything wrong. Let me go!” The man cried in desperate agony, trying to pull his hand free from where it had been nailed to the cross. Blood spurted generously from the wound Joshua had inflicted. The naked man screamed from a place of consuming pain, but no living soul was around to hear. Their only witnesses were the bodies left in Joshua’s wake. And the man’s pleas meant nothing to the heart that had hardened inside him. Joshua had heard the dying screams of men, women, and children far to often to feel anything at all. He was as stoic as the corpses behind them. 

Graham leaned over the man screaming and punched him squarely in the jaw. The jaw swung open lazily, the man stared up at Joshua horrified that he could no longer speak. Joshua firmly grasped the man’s free hand and pinned it to the right arm of the wooden cross. The man under him squirmed in futile effort to free himself from his inevitable fate. The hammer came down swiftly, pushing the rusty nail through the delicate flesh of the man’s palm. Blood sprinkled Joshua’s legion uniform. He wrinkled his nose in disgust. No matter - his job here was done. The resistance group dead and their leader crucified. With a grunt of effort, Joshua stood the cross up. It was an eyesore against the flat desert landscape. However, it sufficiently served as a warning to any who would cross Caesar and his legion. 

Joshua dusted himself off and stowed his hammer away. He turned his back on the suffering man and walked slowly across the desert plain back home. Home to Caesar’s legion. 

John answered them all, “I baptize you with water. But one who is more powerful than I will come, the straps of whose sandals I am not worthy to untie. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. Luke 3:16

The nervous raw recruits stumbled forward towards the center of the dam. The veteran's stood before the Malpais Legate (Joshua Graham), silently recalling their first battles as a raw recruit. Joshua felt no remorse. He had followed the Legion military doctrine excellently. They had the enemy on the run and he intended to leave no survivors. Dead men tell no tales.

THUNK

The legionary veteran collapsed next to Graham, a bullet wound oozing from the back of his head. Instinctively, he traced the bullet's trajectory to a platoon of sharpshooters. The First Recon of the New California Republic.

THUNK THUNK THUNK

Bodies of veteran soldiers fell around him at an alarming rate. "Fall back!" the Malpais Legate cried. The raw recruits panicked at the order, dropping their weapons and running for their lives. More experienced soldiers simply pivoted and ran for the ridge.

THUNK THUNK

Bodies of legionaries continued to mount as they made their escape towards the pass through the ridge. Joshua's eye was caught by a glint in the afternoon sunlight. More First Recon shoots and NCR rangers. It was a trap - this whole damn time! Joshua cursed himself, then Caesar for underestimating Chief Hanlon. Swallowing his rising panic, he shouted over the pop of rifles, "Be weary of crossfire! To Boulder City! For Caesar!"

The is when he lost the remainder of his good men. Boulder City wasn't just protected by rangers and sharpshoots. The whole damn city was rigged to explode. Mines and traps lined every square inch of the town. The opposition, having placed them, evaded the threats, only luring the legionaries in further. What was meant to be a great victory for the mighty Caesar had become a costly defeat.

-

veni , vidi, victus

-

"Mighty Caesar," Joshua approached his life-long friend's throne. "We have lost this battle, but not the war. I won't give up. We-"

"You will do no such thing," Edward barked at him. "Your failure has brought shame to the great legion of Caesar! Such a disgrace will not be tolerated, Malpais Legate." Sallow spat his words with such vile hate, Joshua could no longer recognize him. The personification of the roman emperor, Caesar Augustus, had finally consumed the former- follower of the apocalypse completely. No more was Joshua's friend present before him.

"And for your transgression against the might of Caesar, you shall be burned to death!" Caesar shouted til he was red in the face. "Legionaries! Cover the former-Malpais Legate in pitch, lit him on fire and cast him into the Grand Canyon!"

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and it to the full. John 10:10

“Life has not been good to us without your guidance, Joshua.” Follows-Chalk guided a stumbling Joshua Graham through the Dead Horse camp. “We tried to live in your ways but have been driven from our home. With your return, we can take back Zion from the White Legs.”

"I am sorry to hear what has come to pass. God willing, I can undo the harm that has been done here."

"What...happened to you, Joshua?" Follows-Chalk paused, noticing that Joshua had been lagging behind.

"I do not enjoy reflecting, but I pray to God that someone may learn from my mistakes. Was there something specific, Follows-Chalk?"

Follows-Chalk eyed the puss oozing from the bandages around Joshua's face. His bloodshot eyes and uneven gait all clearly showed the man was in undeniable pain.

"How did you survive, Joshua? Such a fall would have killed most men."

"I survived because the fire inside burned brighter than the fire around me. I feel down into that dark chasm, but the flame burned on and on. The next morning, I woke up and crawled out of the northern edge of the Grand Canyon, that cursed place. It took me three months to return."

Follows-Chalk hung to every word of Joshua's tragic downfall, guiding him to the healer's tent and away from the gaze of the merciless sun.

"The Dead Horses are happy you have returned to us. You are welcome to stay," Follows-Chalk spoke sympathetically. He opened the tent wide for Joshua. The man hissed at the pain as he crouched under the flap to enter the room. "You have been good to us, Joshua."

"You are kind to offer," Joshua groaned as he lowered himself onto a straw mat. A woman rushed over with a basin of clean water and bandages. "It never stops burning. My skin. Every day, I have to unwind the bandages and replace them with fresh ones." He nodded his thanks to the woman. She smiled politely and awkwardly shuffled out. "Exposing my body to the air is like living through it again. But it's better to be clean than comfortable."

Follows-Chalk nodded and turned away to give the Burned Man space to clean his wounds. "Have you met Daniel? He is a missionary like you."

"Who?"

"A Mormon, like you Joshua. He is helping the Sorrows not far from here."

"Take me to him," Joshua gasped in a pain as he removed a bandage that has wound had adhered too. Fresh blood trickled down his back. "In the morning. Tomorrow will be here soon enough. And there is much to do. God be with you, Follows-Chalk."

Like an enemy he has strung his bow; his right hand is ready…he has poured out his wrath like fire on the tent of Daughter Zion. Lamentations 2:4

"Ye have sown death and so shall ye reap it!" Joshua roared, lunging towards the remaining White Legs tribals. He greedily drove his knife into the back of tribal, revealing in the screams of man he had not heard in years.

The lost courier beside him fired lucky shots from a .45 pistol. The bodies of White Legs fell around them until only Salt-Upon-Wounds remained alive.

Joshua stood over Salt-Upon-Wounds. His jagged features highlighted in the dim firelight. It was akin to watching a skilled hunter taunt and play with its prey as it made feeble attempts to escape. "We warned you at Syracuse, and you persisted. You took advantage of us at New Canaan to drive us out, and like the dogs of Caesar you are, you followed us to Zion. And now you stand on holy ground, a temple to God's glory on Earth. But the only use for an animal in our temple is sacrifice!" He smiled grimly at the terror in Salt-Upon-Wounds as the tribal leader curled in terror under Joshua's gaze. "Kale watcha nei conserva oh! You understand me, don't you? Don't you?!"

"Outman!" Salt-Upon-Wounds hissed at the mentally distant courier. "Kuma-man mad! He has killed all White Legs. Please, you talk. You stop this!"

"Stand up and look at what's come for you!" Joshua pulled the tribal leader to his feet. Salt-Upon-Wounds raised trembling hands behind his head.

"Don't listen to this… thing!" Joshua spat. "His cries are those of a mad beast caught in a thicket! He gave no mercy to my family, and I will give none to his!"

The courier squinted their eyes at Joshua, "Is this coming from the missionary Joshua Graham or Malpais Legate? This is brutal and beyond reason. You know it is. Look Joshua, you've already won," The courier gestured to the bodies of the dead that surrounded them. "There's no need to kill him."

"He has a debt to pay for what he's done and I've come to collect," Joshua stammered, but the anger was already starting the leave him and along with it, his conviction. "And so he's chosen to cower in the water like a dumb animal."

The courier stepped over still bodies, moving closer to Joshua. "If what you believe is true," the courier stumbled slightly over an arm shrouded in the darkness. "he'll pay for it later." The courier balanced themselves next to him and whispered, "The Sorrows don't need to see you this. Let's go."

"Go," Joshua sighed in defeat. He released Salt-Upon-Wounds and continued, "Get out of here. Go back. Back to the Great Salt Lake."

Joshua watched Salt-Upon-Wounds scamper off and abruptly turned to the Courier. Angerly, he fumed, "I wanted to take from them what they took from me, from my family!" The courier watched him with mindful pity.

Joshua sighed, allowing his true sadness, underneath all the rage, to flow in. "In this life. I want them to suffer. I want all of them to die in fear and pain," He continued. "I want to have my revenge. Against him. Against Caesar. I want to call it my own, to make my anger God's anger. To justify the things I've done. Sometimes I tell myself that these wildfires never stop burning. But I'm the one who starts them. Not God. Not them. I can always see it in my mind. The warmth and the heat. It will always be a part of me," Joshua paused, looking down the path where Salt-Upon-Wounds had fled. "But not today."

[wildestdreamsblog]

f?

"I guess," you started, your hand absentmindedly wiping the leaves as you smiled bitterly, "I guess we hurt as long as we love."

He chuckled dryly, his eyes following your form. You could not see, but his eyes screamed the hundred nights he spent hurting. You could not see, you could not know, how he wished he perished with you. You didn't know, but he'd rather die than experience life without you again.

"What if I never stopped loving her?"

"Then you grief stays with you. As long as she still lives in your heart, you will never stop hurting. You can only learn how to exist with the pain of having known her, of having lover her, and never having her again."

okay this is from my discontinued story now living in my WIPs hehe. But I really love this because I spent months thinking about the story. It attempts to encompass grief and love and what to do when you're left with the love.

Readers didn't respond positively to the story of Nick Fowler. Might continue it later with different characters tho.

Game

[radicalrascals]

@etxrnaleclipse gets a monster of a drabble for he following prompt:

😈 (dark au's for any of your muses based in our universe!)

Gabriel lay awake in the cheap motel room bed, staring at the stained ceiling and asking himself: where had he gone wrong? How did it all spin out of his control? One moment he was Diego Alvarez. He was happy with Steven. It had been perfect. And then? Where had he gone wrong? Had it been just one simple decision which had cost him his happy ending?

If only he hadn't gone back to save the cop in the alley that night! He wouldn't have left his fingerprints all over the car, lost his epipen, held Steven at gunpoint, sent him to hospital in a selfish attempt to flee the scene.

If he hadn't gone back, everything would have been fine. He would be happy. He would be with Steven. If he hadn't gone back. If only he hadn't gone back...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The day after the botched robbery, Felix arrived at work with an uneasy feeling. Sick to his stomach, unable to eat all morning, unable to shake the sense of foreboding, he'd been seeking council with the man he trusted the most. Yet all of his texts to Theo went unread. Sent into the limbo. Waiting. Foreshadowing.

He tried one last time when he entered the morgue, hearing a prompt vibration but not thinking to much about it. It was as if the analytical part of his brain had shut down completely, prolonging the painful revelation until the pathologist removed the cover from the dead body before him and almost choked on his shock.

Theo.

His Theo.

Felix was shaking all over, dropping his clipboard twice, unable to read the name for his tears clouded his vision.

It must've been an hour later, maybe two, that Steven and Evelyn made their way to the morgue and found Felix on the floor, as pale as his love, and catatonic. The two managed to talk the pathologist back into the realm of the living, urging him to seek professional help, which Felix agreed to, but only after he'd done one last thing;

He knew Nick was most likely to oblige without asking too many questions, so Felix sent him to Rafael's home before joining them. He didn't have to say a word, it was written all over his face, in his reddened eyes, the tragedy, the anguish, the loss.

Rafel went unwontedly, unbearably silent. Even in the following days, weeks, months, he barely spoke. All his words went onto paper as he threw himself into work, numbing his grief with it, and putting a strain on his marriage. Eventually Isabella and him recovered. Barely. But they recovered. And they would adopt Felix into their little family, keeping him close, at least for another year, before Felix' increasing recklessness and hunger for more and more extreme sports and thrills finally reunited him with his lost love.

Nick on the other hand felt incredibly sick. He held his stomach right where the knife had fatally wounded his twin, feeling as though he'd been cut open as well, and he needed to keep in that half of him which was violently torn from his very soul. As the months went by, emptiness was replaced with unfathomable wrath and the desire to bring those to justice which had taken his twin brother from him.

The man who had delivered the fatal blow fled the States, leaving behind his partner in crime who rejoiced in his preserved anonymity for a while, before the guilt got to him eventually. Only in Steven's arms could Gabriel find peace, only when he was Diego Alvarez, could he escape the horrors of that night. And soon he was to become Diego Carlisle. It was almost too perfect, and he deserved none of it.

And fate made sure that justice was served; it was just one mistake, one little mishap, but it was enough to get the ball rolling, until a week away from their wedding, Steven ripped off his mask and everything that Diego had, shattered in an instance. Gabriel fled across the border, wallowing in self-pity and guilt. Whearas Steven, without Gabriel trying to make it up to him, lost himself in work and eventually perished with it.

In Mexico, Gabriel and his once partner in crime reunited, shortly, only to become prey to a vengeful werewolf who'd been led on their trail by his brother and niece's relentless digging. Battered, bleeding, the two criminals waited for the final blow, when Ben managed to talk some sense into Nick at last.

But he wouldn't remain the only hunter trying to save the lives of those unworthy of saving. Carolina and Miguel Guerrero had been lying in wait to slay the beast which had been marked by the same beast that had killed their parents.

With all the blood and the badly beaten criminals, it didn't look all to good for Nick, and no matter the soothing words Ben tried to offer to calm the waves, a fight ensued no less. Leading Carolina to eventually slay the 'monster', whilst her brother made sure Ben would not interfere. They fought relentlessly. They fought dirty. And it only ended, when Miguel's knife was thrust in deep between Ben's ribs.

Ben died in Miguel's arms to the sound of the younger hunter's requiem of regret and weeping. When the police came, they would not only find the American criminals, but two lovers, reunited in death, holding hands; and then there was Miguel, waiting for them, demanding to be arrested for killing his friend. Willingly accepting to be torn away from his sister to repent for his crime.

If Gabriel hadn't gone back, nothing would've been fine.

~~~~~

Gabriel jerked awake from his nightmare, looking around him with a slight panic. How dare he even think it would've been better to let someone else die to keep his secret! No. The truth was painful, but it was an opportunity.

He wasn't a bad person. If only Steven could see that too.

[wildfirehq]

CHARACTER NAME: Valente Nazareno

CHARACTER FACECLAIM: Henry Zaga

CHARACTER AGE/DOB: 24 (November 14, 2001)

CHARACTER PRONOUNS/GENDER IDENTITY/SEXUALITY ETC: Male, He/Him, Bisexual/Biromantic

CHARACTER FANDOM (if relevant): N/A

OC OR CANON: OC

WHERE THEY ARE CURRENTLY LOCATED & ANY IMPORTANT ALLIANCES OF NOTE: Currently located near Winston-Salem, North Carolina, no alliances of note following the fall of Whispering Pines Ranch in Arkansas. 

IMPORTANT CHARACTER INFORMATION TO NOTE AND SHARE: Val grew up poor to a single mother. She did her best for her son, who was born deaf and later became mute as a result. She died, however, when Val was just seven years old and Val ended up in foster care. 

The foster home was generally pretty horrible, but kept Val around until the apocalypse happened. Then, in order to keep their “real” family alive more easily, he was turned out. 

Luckily, a man named Nick Caslin found the ten year old hiding alone in his barn and took him in. Val lived with Nick and travelled with him for years. By the time he was twenty, Nick was well versed in the ways of the dead. He couldn’t hear them, but he could feel their shambling steps, and could smell their rot from yards and yards away. 

And of course, there was Nick. The only person Val ever considered to be a father to him. Nick kept him alive. 

They find a community on a large stretch of farmland in Arkansas called Whispering Pines Ranch. Things go well there for awhile, until one by one, each member of the community starts falling ill. Val goes out on his own for the first time in years to try and find medicine after everyone around him starts dropping like flies. 

Ends up being attacked by another group of survivors, ends up blinded in one eye as he staggers home to Whispering Pines. 

Wakes up from his injuries several days later, locked in a room. Takes him awhile to get out, but he manages to. Finds the dead community members roaming the ranch, all perished to the illness he never caught. 

He manages to escape in a van that was used for supply runs. He’s been running ever since, headed across the US and sleeping in the van for a long time now. Rarely ventures out, and scavenges almost everything he has from broken down cars to avoid straying too far and being caught off guard again. 

ONE SONG THAT HAS YOUR CHARACTER VIBES: Ain’t no Grave - Crooked Still

ooc information:

NAME/ALIAS: Junestar/June

AGE: 26

TRIGGERS: ooc drug use, ooc animal harm/death/illness

[rabbit-177]

ill update this as this "eyes of thorn" keeps posting cryptic shakespeare shit in other rabbits asks. ~ update, there's more cryptic fuckers wanting attention so I'm adding them in here too.

~~~

rabbit 20 - personal message - midsummer nights dream / helena / "so we grow together, like to a double cherry, seeming parted, but yet an union in partition; two lovely berries moulded on one stem." - song / blue and bloody

rabbit 07 - personal message - midsummer nights dream / helena / "love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore is winged cupid painted blind" - personal message from "eyes of thorn" saying it has copycats and is going to "hide away. stick to you. until the copycats die away"

rabbit 156 - midsummer nights dream / helena / "are you sure that we are awake? it seems to me that yet we sleep, we dream"

rabbit 54 - midsummer nights dream / helena / "ill follow thee and make a heavan of hell, to die upon the hand i love so well." - deer message "a deer stands between you and perishing. do you kill the deer, or starve?" - two coded messages

rabbit 177 - midsummer nights dream / nick bottom / thus i die. thus, thus, thus. now i am dead, now i am fled, my soul in the sky. tongue, lose thy light. moon take thy fight. now die, die, die." - hamlet / polonius / "therefore, since brevity is the soul of wit, and tediousness the limbs and outward flourishes, i will be brief." - song / cop car / mitski

rabbit 16 - personal message

rabbit 35 - macbeth / macbeth / "come what come may, time and the hour runs through the roughest day" - deer message

rabbit 24 - personal message - romeo and juliet / friar lawrence / "these violent delights have violent ends, and in their triumph die like fire and powder, which as they kiss consume. the sweetest honey is loathsome in his own deliciousness, and in the taste confounds the apitite. therefore love moderately, long love doth so; too swift arrives as tardy as too slow."

rabbit 01 - romeo and juliet / tybalt / "what, dawn, and talk of peace? i hate the word. as i hate hell, all montagues, and thee."

rabbit idiot 79 - song / 30th / billie eilish - sb message (personal) - sb song + personal message

rabbit 51 - hamlet / hamlet / "doubt thou the stars are fire; doubt that the sun doth move; doubt truth to be a liar; but never doubt i love."

[a-drop-of-nightshade]

“Sir I will not allow her that fate, I will give myself before that happens. I will protect her.” He had sworn to Alice before leaving, this wasn’t for men to join, this wasn’t for others, this was for him, this was his war and he was going to bring the fires of god down on them. Humans or beasts, any who dared to try and bring the same fate of his universe here would perish for it.

———

He moved fast, his wings carrying him, he burst forwards sword acting golden flames he cut down every beast in his path, he could feel their rage, their hatred and he grinned all sharp teeth as he leaped up over a brute’s head, he followed and carved through the gaps in its shoulder severeing its arms before he kicked off a leaped span and drove his sword down into the brutes head causing its body to ignite into flames burning away he landed and laughed, “Is this all you got, I beat your precious little god didn’t I? Come and get me if you dare!” He roared.

He found it so funny how psychological warfare worked on them too, especially when he was yelling at the hivemind, his taint was answered and he laughed nervously, “Well shit you got your beasties all worked up huh?” He muttered before he charged on, never staying still never letting himself get grabbed, even when he got nicked with blades, even when he he lost hair or feathers, he leapt, span, dodged, skidded, slashed and carved his way through leaving a trail of scorch marks and smeared ashes in his wake. Charred and burnt bodies with no way to come back left behind him.

More were coming he could feel it, he leapt back to give himself space and raised his sword high above his head with both hands and took a deep breath, the fire around the blade began to intensify and rage and grow as the docks gave him the perfect tunnelling, at the last possible second he swung his blade down, yet it seemed so graceful. There was a faint clink as it touched the floor and all of a sudden every beast in his path was cleaved in two, golden flames exploded and swallowed everything in his path and with a flick of his hand the flames went out leaving a red hot sword in his hand. “That felt good.” He muttered cracking his neck, he then proceeded to take off running, he could feel his feather and so he bounded with great speed making his way towards Izzy’s location, that feather wouldn’t leave her no matter what, he’d made sure of it.

@a-drop-of-nightshade

Izzy had just turned 13 and her dad was out training her to shoot a gun and protect herself. He needed to train her to be ready for the mines she'd eventually be working in. As she aimed at the target she squeezed the trigger only to watch as a portal appeared and something seemed to fall out of it. Being pulled back behind her dad she hid and just let him take control of the situation.

[atlas-of-a-human-soul]

can you write more for nick scratch ? Like some good old angst where one of them gets hurt thanks!

Coughing, Y/N tried to cover up the blood droplets covering her palm. The last thing she'd want is for Nick to notice her injuries are more than a scratch. She lied to him, something he hates most in the world, but this lie is for his own good.

She bites her tongue as she grips her hip wound to aid herself in walking. Nick glances over his shoulder to ensure she's following behind, but his eyes do not linger. He doesn't see the struggle every step causes nor the pain she grimaces for. Her back is drenched in blood, she can feel herself growing weaker.

"It's a little further", Nick tells her. He sounds just as breathless, but Y/N knows it's because they've been rushing to escape. Hell's descending upon them and for the first time in forever, she didn't pray to Satan to come and save her.

Stumbling, she falls to her knees. Hearing a thud, Nicholas turns with wide eyes. Returning for her, he grips her arms in order to help her up, but her legs fail her. Once again, she finds herself on the ground with a pained expression upon her face.

"What's wrong", Nick cups her cheeks. His eyes are searching hers for answers, but when she coughs, his eyes flicker to her lips.

"Nick", she breathes out as he shakes his head in fright.

"No, no, no", he repeats. Denial is easier than acceptance, but he mustn't waste time any longer. She's not long for this world, but he was always meant to do great things. Y/N can't allow him to perish along with her.

"Nick, please", she grips his leather jacket. "Let me go."

Lips quivering, he shakes his head as tears fill his eyes. "Why didn't you tell me?"

She manages a smile, "Because you can't save me and I wanted a moment longer."

Furrowing his eyebrows, Nick wraps his arms around her. He pulls her up to her feet, using all his strength to keep her upright.

"You promised me a forever", he states gruffly. "I demand you keep that promise."

Breathing heavily, Y/N’s tears spill over. “If you do not leave now, you will die with me.”

“Then let me die!”

Swallowing thickly, Y/N’s grip on his grows.

“Nicholas”, she whispers. “Please.”

“It’s my choice to make”, he insists as he pulls his arm under her knees and lifts her up. “I’d rather die than live hundreds of years without you.”

Resting her head on his shoulder, Y/N felt herself drifting. Soon enough, her body will slump in his embrace and not long after that, Nick will find himself carrying her corpse. She knows it to be true, she can feel herself slipping away. 

Her eyes flutter, trying to remember every line of his handsome, tear-stricken face. If this is the last memory she’ll ever have, she can’t complain. This beauty was meant to be appreciated, to be admired and loved deeply and she believes she had been successful. 

In honor of all they shared, she wills herself to move her lips. She wills herself to say what’s been lingering at the tip of her tongue. 

“Nick”, she smiles meekly as her vision blurs. His dark eyes find hers quickly, allowing her to say the words finally. “I love you.” 

She doesn’t see him smile or hear him say it back as darkness consumes her. She can’t feel his hands around her, nor smell his cologne.

At least she told him, she thinks to herself. Her last words meant something.

[abbatoirablaze]

Hidden Sisters, Chapter 11

Word Count:  1.5k

Warnings:  mentions of violence, manipulation, angst, unplanned pregnancy, mentions of war.

The air in the mountain was thicker than normal.  Ari could feel it as Nadia clung to his side, Sage tucked against her neck, nuzzling it for comfort. 

“It’ll be okay,” she promised the small creature.  He chittered nervously and Ari regretted making his mate and child come up here.  But Jefferson stood beside him, a firm look on his face, “Jefferson will protect us…right cousin?”

“I will protect you both to the best of my ability…you are under my protection as subjects of my realm,” he reassured her softly.  Then he spared Ari a glance, “keep your emotions in check…and follow my lead at all times…this is going to be…interesting.”

Jefferson’s guard was loyal, making sure that no one could so much as get close to them, while they went towards a section that was set up especially for the royals.  That’s when Ari locked eyes with Lance, and he looked at Nadia.  Nadia’s grip on her mate tightened ever so slightly, and Ari snarled at the water nymph.

“Easy, Ari,” Jefferson warned, looking at the shifter.  Ari protectively wrapped his arm around her and held her against his chest, “cousin…so kind of you to show…”

“We have to at these types of events,” Lance said in a smug tone, “there may just be a shift in the power, cousin.”

“I doubt it,” Jefferson said in an assured tone, “you know of all of us, Nick was the most powerful.  He’s the eldest…and he’s a fire and water nymph…are you hoping that our cousin perishes so you can attempt a siege on his lands?”

“Hardly,” he scoffed, “I only showed because I knew you would do what is right and bring back what is mine…even if Nick refused.”

Ari was unable to stop his lip from curling at the statement that insinuated he would dare give up Nadia.

“I wonder what your soon to be wife would wonder if she heard you speak in such a tone.”

Lance frowned, his jaw tightened as he glared at Jefferson, “I see you are also here without your betrothed, Jefferson…is everything alright on that front?”

“I’m keeping my mate safe…she and I talk…” The water behind Lance swirled up from the pitcher and Jefferson scoffed, “Cousin…you are far too temperamental for your own good.”

“Nadia belongs to my realm…and you know it.  Give her back.”

“She’s been mated and marked, cousin…she has chosen to go her own way and separate herself from the fire and water kingdoms…” Lance told him honestly.  He looked at Nadia and nodded.  She bit her lip before letting go of Ari and pulled the hood down from her cloak to expose her neck where a mating mark had freshly healed.  Ari pulled his own hood down and revealed a similar mark.  Lance glared between them, “she and her mate have sought asylum in my realm, and I have granted it.  They are under my protection.”

Lance sighed, “you are making a foolhardy mistake, cousin…I do not let go of what is mine very easily and you know that.”

“Today is not about our qualms, cousin…” Jefferson reminded him as he looked back at the full arena where most of the fire kingdom was sat, the middle of which held Nick and his general angry glaring at one another, “speaking of which, do you know where his bride is?”

Lance huffed and nodded his head towards the door where a Mexican standoff seemed to be occurring.  Ari’s mouth opened and he looked at a very nervous looking Jake and his twin, who were surrounded by Ransom and Nick’s guards. 

“Apparently they caught the wolf here late last night…trying to convince his sister to leave…” Lance scoffed, “guess Ransom told him what happens if her prospective husband loses.”

“What is he talking about?” Ari asked nervously as Jake attempted to move towards them but was stopped by the two sets of guards.  Ari looked at his wife and she gave him a sad look.

“If Nick loses, his general will execute him…and my guess is that since he’s already found a mate in Ember, her as well…”

“You can’t let that happen, Jefferson!” Ari said nervously as he looked at his brother, “sh-she’s my half-sister.  That-“

“Well now that they know the brother is involved, Kemp would probably execute him too!” Lance smirked, “Would you like to be added to the list, Selkie?”

“Do not threaten my subjects, Lance,” Jefferson warned, shooting his cousin a look, “they are here at my request, and I will not tolerate you being a brat.”

“Your subjects?” He growled, standing up, “they are both mine.  The only one that isn’t, is that bastard on her shoulder.”

Sage shrunk back against Nadia’s neck and Ari began growling once more.

“I have granted them, asylum, cousin,” Jefferson reminded him once more, “if you say another word to insult them, I’ll have to take action…cousin.”

“Another word,” Lance taunted, “go ahead and see if I care, Jefferson.  My kingdom is powerful…and my subjects have no qualms about following me into a battle.”

“You run your subjects on fear mongering!” Jefferson hissed, “I give my subjects a choice.”

“And soon, after our cousin is gone and his bitch and her twin are disposed of, I’ll work with General Kemp and destroy your silly little woods…and Ransom’s little hideaway…and when I’m walking over the salted ashes that will be the remains of your kingdoms, I’ll take my bride…and what belongs to me…you are a fool, cousin…”

“Actually, I believe that it’s you that’s a fool,” Ari hissed, pointing to the arena where Nick was cutting down his general, “good luck taking anyone down without an ally, you ass.”

Everyone became silent as Nick took his sword and plunged it through his general’s chest.  The sickening slice made Nadia turn into Ari’s chest, but Ari could only look down at the scene in front of him.  He briefly saw Ember for a moment in the crowd, before she, too, fled, like the coward she was.

Nick was bruised, but he was the victor. 

“I am making a call for court!” Lance proclaimed, shouting it from the balcony, “The victor and champion of the fire nymphs may remain its king, but I call for an answer to the water nymph who hid amongst them.  I demand my subject be returned to her rightful place.  Nadia of the Mountain should be mine!”

Nick looked up at the balcony, surprised to have seen his younger sister standing there.  Ari glared at the nymph, but it was Jefferson who stepped forward, “Nadia of the mountain has sought asylum in the realm of the wood…and it has been granted for her and her mate.  The sister of Nick and princess of the mountain has mated and been marked by her husband, Ari Levinson, selkie, and son of Rogers.”

“We shall hear your call for court, in one night’s time!” Nick agreed.  He pulled his sword from the corpse of his general and looked to his soon-to-be wife who was giving him a sad, but grateful look.  His heart ached as he caught the faded bruise on the corner of her lip, the cut still able to be seen from his spot in the arena. 

“Why didn’t you stand up for her?”

Nick glared at his future wife, his anger coming back to him, “do not give me these lectures, Jennifer.  I’m tired an-“

“I don’t care if you’re tired,” she seethed, glaring at him, “she’s your sister, and you’re letting your cousins fight over her like she’s some prize.”

“She will be fine…she’s an adult who made her own choices.  She-“

“She is supposed to have you in her corner.  You are her brother,” she hissed, pushing him yet again.  Nick glared at her as she stalked around to the other side of the bed, “you are a coward!”

“I JUST SAVED OUR SKINS!” he hissed, “SOMETHING I’VE NEVER HAD TO DO.  I WAS NEVER CHALLENGED BEFORE YOU CAME INTO MY LIFE.”

“YOU’RE SAYING THAT THIS IS MY FAULT?”

“MAYBE I AM!”

“THERE YOU GO, ALWAYS BLAMING YOUR PROBLEMS ON SOMEONE ELSE,” SHE YELLED AT HIM, “YOUR KINGDOM IS FALLING APART BECAUSE THEY THOUGHT YOU WERE SOFT.  THAT HAPPENED BECCAUSE YOU HID YOUR SISTER AWAY INSTEAD OF FIGHTING FOR HER.  THAT’S NOT BECAUSE OF ME.  NOW THAT SOMEONE IS STANDING UP FOR HER, AND FIGHTING FOR HER, YOU’RE BEING A COWARD AND RUNNING AWAY AGAIN.”

“I’m not a coward!”

“Yes, you are.  You ar-“

Her words stopped when he let out an angry yell, hurtling a ball of fire at her.  A puff of smoke filled the room, as the flames engulfed her…but only for a moment.  When the smoke billowed away from her Nick’s jaw dropped. 

She was unscathed. 

“Y-you’re pregnant…”

“What?”

“Y-you’re unharmed…that means that we-“

Jennifer’s breath hitched in her throat as her mind went back to just a few weeks ago when she and Nick had shared a bed the way that two people who were betrothed often would.

Chapter 12

Tag List:  @lohnes16, @dontbescaredtosingalong, @teambarnes72

[docgold13]

365 Marvel Comics Paper Cut-Out SuperHeroes - One Hero, Every Day, All Year…

March 9th - The Black Widow / Natasha Romanoff

There are conflicting account of the early origins of the hero and Avenger known as The Black Widow.  The prevailing tale is that she was born Natalia Alianovna Romanova and orphaned in her infancy.  She was selected and raised from very early childhood by the former Soviet Union's ‘Black Widow’ program.  She and a group of other female orphans were trained in combat and espionage at the covert ‘Red Room’ facility.  At this facility Natasha was bio-technologically and psycho-technologically enhanced, augmenting her physical abilities and significantly slowing her aging process.

Following her time at The Red Room, Natasha was assigned to the KGB under the code name of The Black Widow.  She soon became their best operative.  Relocating to The United States, The Widow was assigned to assist Boris Turgenov in the assassination of the Soviet defector, Professor Anton Vanko.  Vance was working at Stark Industries and the assignment brought The Widow into conflict on multiple occasions with the hero Iron Man.  

The Black Widow would go on to use her guile and skills of manipulation to pit the archer Hawkeye into battling Iron Man.  She and Hawkeye remained a team for a time and took on Spider-Man.  She additionally faced off against The Avengers.   Over time, Natasha came to feel great fondness for Hawkeye, as well as a great deal of respect for the heroes she encountered; all leading her to question her blind loyalty to her handlers in the Soviet Union.  Ultimately, she decided to defect.  

Hawkeye had gone on to join The Avengers and The Black Widow aided him and the team against The Sons of The Serpents and later the Ultroids.  Hawkeye lobbied for Natasha to be accepted into the ranks of The Avengers and the team considered it.  Around this time, Natasha was recruited by Nick Fury to act as a double agent for the intelligence agency Shield.  It required Natasha to appear to betray her new Avengers colleagues so to maintain the ruse.    

This led to a confrontation with The Red Guardian and culminated in The Black Widow providing crucial assistance to The Avengers in thwarting a Soviet plot to use a device called The Psychotron to take over the United States.   Not long thereafter, Natasha accepted another assignment from SHIELD to neutralize a threat posed by the villainous Egghead.

Relocating to the West Coast of America, The Black Widow became partners with the costumed crimefighter, Daredevil, as well as lovers with Daredevil’s alter ego, Matt Murdock.  The pair eventually broke up and, following a number of solo adventures, The Widow became a member of the first iteration of the Champions.  

The Champions eventually folded due to a lack of funding and Natasha would go on to have further solo adventures as well as team-ups with Hercules and Daredevil.  Natasha returned to The Avengers some time later, becoming the co-leader of the team alongside The Black Knight.  She tried to keep the team together following the Onslaught event wherein most of The Avengers were believed to have perished in action.  

In the wake of Natasha’s defection, her former handlers groomed fellow Red Room trainee, Yelena Belova, to act as the new Black Widow.  The two Widows battled one another when Yelena was dispatched to obtain the formula for Nick Fury’s Infinity Serum.  Although she was able to thwart her replacement’s mission, Natasha was disconcerted over the notion that The Red Room was still in operation and she set about on a mission to bring the facility down.  This led to the corrupt former KGB operative, Vassily Ilyich Ulyanov, who in partnership with an American businessman, was using Red Room assassins to further his own agenda.  Natasha killed Ulyanov, freeing the various Widow trainees under the influence of his thrall.

During the first Superhero Civil War, Natasha became a supporter of the Registration Act and a member of Iron Man’s registration task force.  She then went on to join a new iteration of The Avengers.

Some time thereafter, Natasha aided Bucky Barnes in his efforts to fill the mantle of Captain America following Steve Rogers’ apparent death.  Natasha and Bucky had trained together when they were both agents of the former Soviet Union.  They had become lovers but were separated by their handlers who feared such a relationship might make it more difficult to control their agents.  Now freed from such confines, the two rekindled their romance.  The two joined the new Avengers during the Dark Reign era and continued on as members of the team in the heroic era.  During this time, a returned Steve Rogers recruited Natasha to lead a new Secret Avengers squad.  

Natasha was believed to have been killed during the Secret Empire event, yet she later returned as part of a complicated mission to bring down a reconstituted version of the Red Room.  She would go on to team up with Hawkeye and The Winter Soldier in battling a new faction of Hydra.  

The Black Widow has featured prominently in the Marvel Cinematic Universe portrayed by actress Scarlet Johansen.  The heroine first appeared in the pages of Tales of Suspense #52 (1964).

[tribbetherium]

The Late Glaciocene: 115 million years + 5000 years post-establishment

Last Stand: Final Stronghold of the Rockcookers

The fortress of Inferno Peak was the last remaining refuge for harmsterkind.

The Rockcookers were the only faction that had survived the post-war plague of SIHTT, as they had knowledge and arms that allowed them to persist. But in the end, they too were numbered in their days, for they were left devastated and weak by the multiple, unpredictable attacks of the fractured Bruterider armies.

The Bruterider armies that, now, had joined the legions of the infected.

SIHTT had ravaged the harmster populations beyond this one last hideout. The Squeakwegs had carried the plague onto three continents as they sailed about by ship, the Bruteriders and their Brutes were now ridden by the disease from months of cannibalizing their dead, and the Frazettas had gone from bloodthirsty monsters to infected bloodthirsty monsters. And once the diseased had made their way over to Arcuterra, even the Rockcookers could only resist so long, as the infected kept coming: even from their own ranks.

This small resistance was located on Inferno Peak, the highest-altitude Rockcooker base on the mountain range of Arcuterra: and all that remained of the Rockcookers, and the harmster species as a whole.

And it was here that a small army of Rockcookers made one final stand against the swarms, now a hideous menagerie of harmsters, Brutes, Frazettas and even the occasional ripperoo, as, with their bodies quickly failing, and fewer new hosts to infect, they were desperate to find new hosts before their ravaged systems succumbed. The fortress held on, optimistic in the knowledge that the infected will eventually perish after a period of several months, once their cancerous, decaying bodies could hold on no longer.

Here, a young, lowly commander called Wipi-pipa, or "Notch-Ear", would sit at the helm of this final conquest. He was young, and inexperienced, and very overconfident, and while harmsters often followed strength and power, there was simply nobody better left. The fortress numbered barely seven hundred at last count, and they dwindled each day.

He barked commands left and right, and from within the walls, operated the siege engines that kept the infected at bay, for they had gathered in great numbers near the mountain, drawn by the sounds and smells of the Inferno Peak. But, even as he headed the resistance, he had never actually encountered any of them up close, and he, in all his arrogant confidence, actually knew little about what he really was up against.

Until one day, one of the infected breached their defenses.

Once, it was a decorated Squeakweg captain who once sailed to Arcuterra in the hope of conquest and glory at the peak of the Second Harmster World War.

But now, it was but a chunk of rotting meat in its death throes, now in the advanced and final stages of SIHTT.

Wipi-pipa recoiled in horror as, in Beta's bloody light, he caught his first close look at the enemy that had broken into the siege engines' operating room. Was it even a harmster anymore? It reeked of death, and looked every bit dead, its face rotted away, its eye sockets gaping with cancerous growths, its jaw entirely gone and its body nearly a skeleton wrapped in the pallid hairless hide of a decayed corpse.

Except it wasn't dead yet.

Even now, the...thing lunged blindly at him, drawn by his scent, stumbling on unsteady legs, shivering violently in spasmic twitches as it gurgled out unearthly noises from its exposed throat, some still sounding almost like harmster words. It could not bite with such a ravaged face, but still it tried its damned hardest, lashing out with its head, trying to catch Wipi-pipa in the jaws that weren't there, as the terrified general stumbled back, and seized a spear--

--and just as he managed to finally put the wretched creature out of its misery, its upper front tooth nicked his forepaw.

And that was all it took.

Wipi-pipa, selfish as he was, as all of harmster-kind were, would conceal this mishap from the rest of the Inferno Peak survivors. He had an image to maintain, after all, and he, even in the direst of situations, even in the face of global oblivion, only thought of his own status and power.

Status and power that were all but useless when there was nothing left to rule.

It was but a few weeks until Wipi-pipa began to feel unwell. He felt ill, and disoriented, and unusally aggressive even for him. And then he snapped at a subordinate on one particularly bad day. And then that one bit another. And another. And another.

On the outside, the swarms of the infected were beginning to falter. They had no new hosts, and they were falling to pieces like macabre meat piñatas, leaving a dreadful stench all around outside the fortress.

But on the inside, a new infection was brewing. It was early, and they showed nothing but small sores, but at this point, their fate was sealed.

The Rockcookers disposed of the remains of the infected by burning them, as they assumed, correctly but for the wrong reasons, that this neutralized the "poisons" within them. Now they knew they were next, and there was no stopping it.

That evening, on the summit of Inferno Peak, a bright orange glow burned brightly, joining Beta's crimson rays in illuminating the cragged mountainside.

And it was probably the first, and last, time that the harmsters would come anywhere close to an act of mercy.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

[kinkkinen-sukka]

Malevolent drabble

In honor of episode 20, have a short drabble of ‘what if John’s affection for Arthur started leaking over after he begins fusing with the King In Yellow’. 

 Inner Conflict:

Strange dark stars blinked in and out of existence, like eyes contemplating their King and the lost wanderers imprisoned in His realm.

The tattered yellow robes of the King In Yellow dragged against worn shifting stone of the cave, the walls and floor attempting to anticipate the moods and intentions of the powerful being leaning to the side in silence.

The cave was currently shaped akin to a closed amphitheater, a dome ringed with crumbling seats, and slick floors for knife-handed ballerinas to prance on. The dancers cut into each other in their elegant movements, nicking and maiming wounds to entertain the King In Yellow with macabre displays of beauty and madness, but the King merely stood slumped, pondering.

Carving.

Fingers were scratching effortlessly grooves into the wall the King was leaning on, each cut deeper than the other. He was having a conversation, silently, within the confines of His own mind. Or minds, as it were, thanks to the struggling of His own runaway fragment.

”Why cling onto the vestiges of mortal illusions?” the King questioned, seemingly already tired of this split state they were forced into. ”It's not like you had any humanity in you in the first place. Mere playful lies to entertain yourself with, so you wouldn't die of utter boredom while waiting to become whole.”

John was remaining stubbornly quiet, having already exhausted most answers he might muster, and growing tired himself of his own true self's frustrated questioning.

The King shifted, a flinch of His robed head as He aimed His attention idly a little higher, following the grooves His fingers were carving under worn sleeves.

”He’s gone now! Out of sight, out of mind,” the King sneered, robe billowing momentarily and making the dancers stutter, but calmed then just as suddenly. ”Wandering desperately my lands. Useless. Nobody.” The King said, voice lilting in some sort of minor delight. ”He means nothing!”

”And yet…” John finally drawled out, through his mouth, and His. ”I seem to have been at this wall for an endless amount of time, carving and still splintered.”

The King's fingers stopped as if He finally became aware of their ceaseless motion.

Sensing a moment of faltering, John rasped in turn with barely held disgust, rage, confusion and no small amount of mirth: ”Carving. Pining!”

”Shut it!”

The whole realm seemed to shake as the yellow tatters billowed out, tendrils and hairs and spider silk in their lashing, hating motion.

The dancers fell in a helpless domino, knife-hands bruising the pristine, slick floor they called their stage. They lay there, unmoving, faceless, not daring to rise. It was not their time to entertain. Their King had other entertainment now.

The evidence of it was etched into the cave walls. Long and short scratches first haphazard and crisscrossing at odd angles, then slowly, surely, joining into one another to form a cohesive shape.

A face. Ears. Eyes. Nose. Lips. Hairs. Jawline and neck, the tendon there deliciously fragile and exposed. Impressions of hunger and thirst and filth smeared on those frowning brows and stiff cheeks.

A shape barely worth entering the King's notice. A shape John, the King's lost piece, knew very intimately. A shape the King and the King, missed dearly, infuriatingly, obsessively.

Carved into every single available surface of the walls.

Arthur Lester.

 Arthur.

Arthur.

Arthur.

 …

 Somewhere, nowhere, a single human figure was shivering in the falling snow. The stars had shifted multiple times, eyes of the sky keeping a track of the pitiful mortal's journey across the wastelands of dreams.

Arthur was starving, but never enough to perish. He always found just enough to survive, to fend off death a day longer, to keep on going. To keep on searching.

”John… I'm coming, John,” he could be sometimes heard muttering to himself, as if hearing himself speak was the only thing keeping him sane anymore. ”I'm not losing… anyone else…” his teeth chattered busy against each other. ”Fuck you… Fuck you, you robed creep! I'm… I'm not going to stop!”

Not that the lands were too keen on stopping him, or allowing him to stop. It was almost uncanny, Arthur had to admit, the way some sort of path seemed to be always cleared for him wherever he went. One way or another.

Snowy mounds laid in strange lumpy shapes, almost reminding curled up humans… Long icicles had the vague shape of hands and feet dangling from cave entrances and abandoned buildings.

A stone in a surprisingly snowless batch of land had deep grooves set in it, resembling a face, but not quite.

Arthur took note of all this, but barely had enough energy to recognize the signs for what they were. Just a prickling in the very base of his skull, raising hairs all along his abused skin.

His mind refused to acknowledge them, even when shifting trees and sand dunes revealed Arthur’s very own form in myriad of different poses: despairing, panicking, screaming, grinning, cowering, looking up in defiance with the most passionate, vulnerable expression… Arms raised tentatively as if to embrace something unseen, something hidden and keenly watching him hopelessly flail and wander.

Repeating Arthur's form like mirrors held up to reflect him, from the bottom of a greedy, seething consciousness, trained on only him.

Arthur Lester.

[navidsonhouse]

6’7 150 lb man with alopecia who, every morning, will go to the dog park and read the newspaper. One morning just like the others a Pomeranian will approach this man and yap for roughly 4 seconds before quietly sitting down. The man will set down his newspaper and lunge for the dog, tearing it to pieces with his hands and teeth. Onlookers will be horrified, many will flee; the man will calmly retrieve his newspaper and leave and not be followed. Pattern will continue for several months, during which eight other incidents will occur, three of which without any provocation. Following the most recent attack, an effort is made to locate and arrest the man, and his house is discovered. Upon arrival, police will find themselves unable to enter the premises as all of the doors and windows are really hard to open because it’s winter and that always makes them stick and you gotta really get under it and lift. The man will shoot and kill all three officers present, and no further police investigation will occur. The man will continue his routine for a two and a half more years, with another 26 attacks, until one unusually cold morning in July when a pug that had been breathing too loudly near the man would nick the man’s carotid before perishing. The man will collapse on the bench, flail at his newspaper with the hand not feebly attempting to staunch bloodflow, and perish after several minutes of shallow breathing and complete stillness

[nightingaelic]

Fallout 4 companions respond to getting captured by Super Mutants (for optional added angst, maybe even getting turned into a super mutant). Strong not included for obvious reasons.

Ada: "Be advised: My guardian has equipped me with a tracking device in the event of my capture. You lack the privileges necessary to access their estimated time of arrival."

Ada is always matter-of-fact about her situation, even if her legs aren't functioning and she's squashed between two bags of body parts on the floor of an abandoned hospital. She's also patient, and content to wait until the sole survivor comes to retrieve her. In the meantime, she'll run escape scenario algorithms to determine the best way out of the building. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Cait: "Are you f***ing serious?! I'll tear your ears off with my bare hands and string them on a necklace! You don't know who you're messin' with, you green bastards!"

No one can match Cait in sheer viciousness when fighting to free themselves, but even she has her limits. The sole survivor would likely find her in a cage, hyperventilating and on the verge of tears. If the super mutants made the mistake of exposing her to FEV, she would tear the nest apart herself. Mutation would be another internal struggle for Cait, but I think she could successfully make peace with her new state of being if given enough time. A makeshift, giant baseball bat might help.

Codsworth: "Unhand me, you brutes! By God, the class of people I'm forced to associate with these days just keeps falling!"

Pre-war Codsworth is constantly offended by the super mutants' behavior, particularly their lack of housekeeping. He can't help bemoaning his situation for all to hear, something that would probably annoy the super mutants enough to bonk him on the dome until he shuts down. Some assembly required once the sole survivor catches up with him. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Curie: "While we are waiting, would any of you mind answering some questions for me about how you came to exist in this state? Ça vous dit?"

With a wide new world of oddities to study, Curie takes her abduction as yet another opportunity to learn. If nothing else, she can observe super mutants in their natural- or at least chosen- habitat. Prior to her synth transition, not affected by FEV for obvious reasons. Post-synth transition, however, I think Curie would take the mutation as an opportunity to study the effects that turn a person into a super mutant. I don't think she would lose her bubbly personality, similar to the way Lily the nightkin retained some of her old sense of self.

Danse: "You may have the upper hand today, but you and the other freaks of nature are fighting a losing battle." [spits]

Having lost the most to super mutants in the past, Danse fights his captors until he is completely spent. In fact, the sole survivor would have to practically carry the man home for a lengthy recovery, something his suit of power armor would definitely help with. Mutation into a super mutant is one of Danse's worst nightmares, and if exposed to FEV, he would beg the sole survivor to show him the same mercy he once showed Cutler.

Deacon: "Oh yeah, this reminds me of that summer I spent camping out on the National Mall. You even look familiar. Know anyone by the name of Uncle Leo?"

Like in every tight spot he's ever been in, Deacon masks his stress level with quick wits and quicker retorts. Most likely to slip his confines, let the sole survivor fight their way to the heart of the nest, then reveal he was free the whole time and they needn't have bothered. If exposed to FEV, Deacon would probably panic and enlist the sole survivor's help in searching for a cure, positive that a mutated countenance would irreparably damage his ability to help the Railroad. Then again, he might see it as a "new look" and use it to his advantage for a bit.

Dogmeat: [snarling]

Any super mutants that get their hands on Dogmeat are highly likely to lose fingers. Still, there's not much the canine can do if he's put in a cage, other than bark and wait for rescue. While FEV leaves many dogs as aggressive shells of their former selves, I think Dogmeat would be largely okay with his new green-and-bulky form and would still happily guard settlements and follow the sole survivor around, not unlike Gracie from Far Harbor.

Hancock: "Whoa, whoa relax. I've got time to hang out for a bit, no need to get all worked up. Don't stain the coat, I doubt you can cough up the caps to get it cleaned."

Of all the companions, Hancock is the most unbothered by becoming a super mutant captive. It's just another wasteland adventure, albeit one where the opposing cast of characters are all at least two feet taller than him. He might earn some bumps and bruises for being unable to keep his smart mouth shut, but he'll just bide his time until he spots an opening to wreak havoc and escape, or until the sole survivor comes along to wiggle him out. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

MacCready: "You know, I'm getting real sick of you green lunatics. Spent almost a decade living next door to some of your cousins, and they knew enough not to mess with me."

Upon capture, MacCready would roll his eyes and accept that he's going to have to wait for some help. He'd get more desperate the longer his wait went on though, envisioning a world where Duncan lost his dad without getting to say goodbye. Mutation wouldn't necessarily dampen his spirits at first: After all, if anyone can find a cure, it's the sole survivor.

Valentine: "Not exactly a group of masterminds, are you?"

At this point, Nick is used to getting abducted and locked up by just about every group in the Commonwealth. He knows super mutants well enough to know they don't listen to reason, but he can't resist getting in a jab or two about how he's far from edible. Not affected by FEV for obvious reasons.

Piper: "So, uh, what's say I write up a column about how super mutants are seriously misunderstood creatures and we'll call it even? No?"

Piper might have similar levels of confidence as Deacon, but hers are much more likely to waver when faced with possible death by ingestion. Her quips would be fewer and more nervous until the sole survivor arrived, at which point she would put her game face back on and cheer her rescuer along. If exposed to FEV, she would beg the sole survivor to help her find a cure for Nat's sake, and eventually weasel the information about Virgil out of them.

Preston: "I didn't need to get up close to know why you're called 'uglies,' but here we are."

While terrified at what the super mutants might do to him, Preston is the most level-headed when captured. He's already great under pressure in battle, and he's used to setting his own fears aside to find solutions for his woes. Most likely to have more people coming to his rescue than the sole survivor alone, due to his role with the Minutemen. If exposed to FEV, Preston would likely accept his fate with dignity, and make the sole survivor promise to dispatch him if he turns violent. I don't think he would, though, and the Minutemen would probably be more accepting of a super mutant officer than most.

X6-88: "I can afford to wait for field assistance, mutant. They will not make the mistakes I did."

X6-88 accepts his predicament calmly, like he accepts everything that happens to him. If unable to free himself, he will patiently wait for the Institute help he knows is coming, even if it's just the sole survivor with a pipe pistol. Regarding FEV mutation, turning into a super mutant might be the straw that breaks the camel's back for X6-88. In the Institute's eyes, the Courser is now hideous and no longer viable in the field: In X6-88's opinion, though, he is even stronger and more dangerous than he was before. I could see him finally choosing to desert his post out of a growing sense of self-preservation once transformed.

BONUS!

Gage: "Well look who's suffering from delusions of adequacy! I'd call you f***ers dumb as rocks, but at least a rock can hold a door open."

Porter Gage is great at heckling, and just good enough that he toes the line right up to where super mutants would start to understand he's insulting them. The sole survivor would likely find a gaggle of them around his confinement space, convinced he's complimenting them when he's actually being very rude. Breaking him out gives him the biggest smile. Becoming mutated himself might actually benefit Gage in the long run, as the raiders he used to be wary of would instead find themselves newly-wary of the Overboss' right-hand man.

Longfellow: "Too bad you aren't one of the more reasonable ones. Might've saved your skin."

Longfellow treats his own capture with a sense of humor, acknowledging that he's not as young as he once was and might need help now and then. Chuckles the whole time the sole survivor is fighting their way to him, and grateful upon release. If turned into a super mutant, he'd shrug, accept his fate, and ask to be escorted to live with his friend Erickson up near Far Harbor.

Maxson: "I welcome the day you and your kind meet total destruction."

If Danse is angry about being captured by his sworn enemies, Maxson is seething. Kidnapping a Brotherhood Elder is something that shouldn't even be possible in his eyes, let alone by super mutants. Once freed, he would do his best to erase the nest from the earth: Fire, missiles, tactical nukes if necessary. Also like Danse, Maxson would order the sole survivor to mercifully dispatch him if he were mutated. Additionally, he'd have them destroy any evidence of his exposure to FEV, and simply turn in his holotags with the news that he had perished in the line of duty.

Desdemona: [livid silence]

Plunks herself down, lights a cigarette if her hands are free, and waits. Eventually, the sole survivor or Glory will turn up, and she'll give them one, lingering look of disappointment before vanishing into the Commonwealth ruins. Least likely to get captured in the first place. If mutated, she would reassume her job as leader of the Railroad with no comment, and everyone else would know better than to ask.

[penguinkinggames]

“Cerebos: The Crystal City” Actual Play Part I: Introductions

This is the first in a series of posts recounting a session of actual play from Cerebos: the Crystal City, currently crowdfunding on Kickstarter. If you’ve been wondering what on Earth players actually do in a game of Cerebos, read on!

This session was conducted on March 20th, 2021, with Matthew Dorbin as GM, and Amelia Gorman, Ashley Flanagan, Will Mendoza, and Kevin Snow playing. The events of play were recorded by Zach Welhouse.

Preamble

For this session of Cerebos, the GM volunteered to run a session with the Adventure! Conductor. The conductor’s Atlas Obscura power invites the players and GM to work collaboratively to create a Stops table unique to their journey. They exchanged a few ideas over e-mail, which the GM codified. He added this new Stops table, which was heavy on the hells, to five other Stop tables to create an Atlas. Then he selected six Event tables to create an Almanac.

Everybody met in Discord and talked about unrelated matters for a bit. Then it was time to introduce characters. Each character clings to three touchstones: objects that represented their past in the City by the Sea. Each touchstone has a single Trait.

Dramatis Personae

Tinderling. A woman who looks like a burnt match.

Iron rail spike (Odd Jobs)

A single match (Burns at Both Ends)

Bird bone sewing needle (Piercing Insight)

The Unqualified Robot. A mechanical figure with a light projection screen for a head. It indicates expression by placing a large slide with the image of an emotion on the screen.

Expression slides (Toxic Positivity)

Backpack of unsold gadgets (Abandoned Junk)

Flask of motor oil (Guzzlin’)

The Lady in Blue. A woman who is as regal as she is soot-stained: exceedingly.

Gun with a single bullet (Single-Minded)

Feathered hat (Life of Luxury)

Burned handbag (Lost Sister)

The Lonesome Seafarer. A sea captain far from shore.

Patchwork coat (Coat of Theseus) (“I like it because it’s vague and we’ll find out what it means during play.”) 

Blue tricorner hat (Air of Authority)

Spyglass with broken lens (Grizzled Survivor)

Some players came to the table with their whole starting concept, while others were less certain about their starting Traits. Everyone helped brainstorm starting Traits for the players who were less certain. This early riffing was the first sign of the collaboration to come. 

One player noticed they gravitated toward useless items or objects of purely sentimental value. The travelers themselves were quite worn, so we were already establishing a contemplative mood. These were travelers who had been beaten down by the world, but hadn’t given up yet. Their stories would be ones of struggle and inspirational determination or grim warnings about challenging forces larger than themselves.

Goals

Based on these introductions, each player determined why another traveler was headed to Cerebos. They shared the goals with the GM over DMs, so no one knew why their traveler was on the road. The truth revealed itself over time through flashbacks

Tinderling: Her newly unionized shop got shut down by union busters. She’s looking for a place with less draconian labor laws.  

The Unqualified Robot: Cerebos is home to a famous scientist who specializes in reprogramming obsolete robots for new jobs.  

The Lady in Blue: The Lady in Blue's sister, the Lady in Red is a criminal ringleader in Cerebos. The Lady in Blue aims to kill her and take over her crime empire.  

The Lonesome Seafarer: The Lonesome Seafarer is looking for someone lost at sea, and old rival/loved one who was believed to have perished but was seen alive in the City by someone the Seafarer trusts. They have something they want to ask them.

Based on their answers to the GM’s initial questions, the players were interested in telling a story about labor, power, and human connections.

For example, the GM asked the players if they intended to pay for passage on the train. One player suggested they might have company scrip from Tinderling's employers. The GM asked if the company had a name, at which point Inferno Heavy Industries was born. It had just opened its newest station for business, to (according to the fresh posters) was "bringing luxury to a land with so little of value".

The Journey Begins

When the travelers arrive, workmen are still unloading plants and doing their best to landscape the surrounding wasteland. The local ecosystem will probably recover. Tinderling notices a panhandler passing among the large crowds, who she recognizes as a scab from the City by the Sea.

The train still has that new train smell. It has fancy cushions and a conductor who’s knowledgeable and friendly, but not pushy. Only the best for the engine’s maiden voyage!

The Lonesome Seafarer follows the automated snack cart from car to car, loading up on the bounty of the rails. The Unqualified Robot, never having been on a train before (presumably), keeps getting in the way until Tinderling recognizes a proletariat in need and guides it to a seat. The Unqualified Robot slides a winking face into its project slot, gladdened by the kindness.

The train sets off and the GM rolls for an Event in the Almanac. The train plows through the desert, passing through a region of low hills and hexagonal pits that seep gas into the air. Plague doctors patrol the perimeter, keeping pit owls from approaching the train. 

This terrain is a Danger 3 Event. If the Danger level (that is, the total Danger of all active Events) is 4 or greater by the time the train reaches a Stop, the Stop will be especially dangerous. If the Event’s individual Danger is reduced to 0, one of the travelers will receive a keepsake of the encounter.

At this point, everybody takes an action with comments, suggestions, and general role-playing filling the space in between.

First Round of Train Actions

Tinderling is familiar with gas from mines and factories. It may be dangerous! She suggests people put on wet masks. She takes the Engage Event action and rolls a Success to lower the danger to 2. Several passengers see the wisdom of this advice and mask up.  

The Lady in Blue shares a story with whoever’s sitting next to her (it doesn’t matter, really) about the importance of staying calm and composed during times of danger. Take it easy, eat a little food. It will all work out. She uses the conductor’s Easy Confidence Train Action to understand Tinderling. Just a little. She gains a bonus to the next time they work together.  

The Lonesome Seafarer believes the unruly owls to be a problem. She shouts out the window and waves her hat at them: “Hey! Owls! Listen to those plague doctors! They have good medical advice!” Another Success. The Event’s danger lowers to 1.  

The Unqualified Robot, shocked by all the action, takes the Lady in Blue’s advice. It tries creating a meal from the snack cart, mashing snacks against its face until it’s a custardy mess. The Lady in Blue offers a napkin and they talk through the comedy of manners. Next, the Robot tries its flask. Empty. The Lady in Blue suggests whiskey for the both of them. They both Share a Meal and earn a keepsake: a tasty beverage that provides a one-time reroll of a 1 or 2.

The first round of Train Actions has ended. The train speeds on into the evening. A few owls follow, hovering just out of reach.

Second Round of Train Actions

Tinderling asks the Lonesome Seafarer about her spyglass. The Seafarer has a flashback to a terrible sea battle against a kraken. She orders her crew to battle stations!   Second mate Scurvy doubts her, shouting, “Are you mad, captain? We can’t fight this!” The captain disagrees, jumping into action and fighting back the kraken almost single-handedly, saving the topsman from a tentacle that may very well be an arm. After the battle, Scurvy is nowhere to be found.   During this flashback, Tinderling set up most of the action, while the Lonesome Seafarer filled in with her actions. Everyone else offered suggestions, commentary, jokes, and bit parts like sailors screaming in terror. Everybody spitballs ideas about what this scene reveals about the Lonesome Seafarer and agrees: the spyglass gains two ranks of the Tunnel Vision trait.  

The Unqualified Robot sees passengers all around it talking, and emulates them by asking the Lady in Blue a nice, innocent question about the gun she’s carrying. It seems like a safe conversation opener, but draws her into a flashback!   The Lady in Blue is playing cards in a seedy tavern. One hand is on her gun, which she’s holding under the table and pointing at her opponent. It’s a game of chance, but the Lady in Blue is exuberantly talking about her masterful strategy. Her opponent throws his hands in the air in disgust, knocking over several drinks. He goes to pick his mug off the ground, narrowly missing as the Lady in Blue passes her gun off to an accomplice who walks past. Her name isn’t Margaret and the Lady in Blue’s name isn’t Angela, but that’s how they refer to one another.   The Lady in Blue’s player had no idea how this game would turn out while it was happening. The accomplice was probably the lost sister alluded to in her Lost Sister trait, but only future flashbacks would tell. Everyone talks about what they learned about the Lady in Blue, and her gun gains two ranks of the Nick of Time trait.

At this point in the journey, two flashbacks have flashed back. The GM rolls on the Almanac for an Event, prompting an announcement from the conductor: “Hello passengers. It’s rare for a train to get lost, but we have.”

Inferno Heavy Industries hired several competing rail gangs for its line, leading to a labyrinthine snarl of tracks. Worse, the turbulence woke a swarm of chandler beetles that had been roosting in the overhead bins. Their waxy secretions have a way of ruining any train ride or picnic, most immediately threatening the Lady in Blue’s sippin’ whiskey. This is a Danger 3 event, which raises the Danger level on the train to 4.

The second round of train actions then continues:

The Lonesome Seafarer continues her conversation with Tinderling, ignoring the beetles for the time being, prompting a flashback. Encouraged by the Lonesome Seafarer’s tale of adversity, Tinderling recalls a time she had to stitch up a friend in the mines with her bird bone sewing needle. Inferno Heavy Industries at fault. That’s when she got the idea to blow up the mine and let those hateful ghouls know their workers had dignity.   Everyone decides the bird bone sewing needle gains two ranks of A Rough Patch.  

The Lady in Blue decides needs must. She sacrifices her hat to scoop up the chandler beetles that are threatening her drink. It’s a snap decision that she instantly regrets. That hat was a link to who she used to be, and possibly who she would like to continue being. It was an exclusive. A very nice hat.   The Lady in Blue rolls an 8 on her roll to release a touchstone. It’s an Ugly Break, so one of her other touchstones gains one Momentum. Even though her luxurious hat has been tainted by insects, she still has her fancy bag.   On the bright side, she gains one Contemplation for taking a step away from her all-controlling past. She doesn’t know much about who she is or who she wants to be, but her hat and the memories connected to it certainly aren’t going to hold her back.

The second round of train actions has now concluded! The Danger level is still 4.

Third Round of Train Actions

Tinderling finishes her conversation with the Lonesome Seafarer and looks across the car to the Unqualified Robot. It’s sipping whiskey from its refilled flask, watching the Lady in Blue go after the beetles with her hat.   Tinderling notices the flask looks like an oil can. The Unqualified Robot notices it’s being watched and becomes self-conscious.   It thinks back to when it liberated the oil can from an Inferno Heavy Industries factory. It was scrounging for oil, always finding just enough to keep it going. Even though the factory was out of commission, automated guards were still protecting its assets. The guards were large and dystopian, while the Unqualified Robot was small and scrappy. It scraped oil off the silent factory machinery with a tiny spoon. It listened to messages on the foreman’s answering machine. The electricity bill is due in three days. The Robot dutifully writes down the messages from the answering machine and takes a sip of oil.   Everyone agrees the Unqualified Robot’s story is going to go some dark places. The oil can flask gains two ranks of Drowning Sorrows.

Two more flashbacks have occurred, so the GM rolls for another Event. The players recognize the Danger is adding up, but are cavalier about it. “How bad can it be?” That’s how they get ants. Ants that are crossing the tracks in a line that stretches to the horizon. They’re carrying the components to build a death ray. Components that look suspiciously similar to the inner workings of a robot. The Event’s Danger is 1; the train’s overall Danger is 5.

The third round of train actions continues:

The Unqualified Robot Engages the Event. The ants know Morse code, as does the Robot so communication is not a problem. Understanding is more difficult. The Robot slides a diplomatic slide onto its projector screen and solemnly taps out, “Please don’t build a death ray with the components of robots. They are living creatures, demanding of dignity.” It rolls a 1 and a 2. A Setback.   The Robot takes a long pull from its whiskey, using the meal keepsake to reroll the 1. Its new results are a 2 and a 2, which is still a Setback. Worse, it’s rolled doubles. If the Robot chooses not to reroll at this point, it’ll gain a point of Momentum in addition to the penalty from the Setback. However, it still has several Traits it could use.   The Unqualified Robot decides a Setback makes more sense. It receives one Damage and gains a point of Momentum to its face plates. Everyone shares a good-natured laugh at how unlucky the robot is and how it will receive a Bad End at this rate.  

The Lady in Blue feels a looming sense of dread and takes a Stop the Train Action. The conductor cheerfully reminds everyone that due to paperwork they signed when purchasing their tickets, the train will be making a brief, unscheduled stop to investigate several findings of industrial importance. Naturally, the NDA also applies.  

Ordinarily, after calling for a Stop, any travelers who have yet to take their train action for the round would receive the opportunity to do so before the train pulls into the station; however, in the group’s eagerness to get away from the assorted owls and insects, the Lonesome Seafarer’s turn was accidentally skipped!

The First Stop

Inferno Heavy Industries scientists unload delicate instruments and set up camp. This is a burial ground, but the skeletons interred in the sands have beards and wigs made of precious metals. If they could determine how to extract metal from living bone, profits would be sure to follow.

In normal circumstances, this wouldn’t be an especially dangerous Stop. However, the travelers let the Event Danger pile up. The last remaining owls have lost interest and the conductor deals with the chandler beetles, but bad karma and the ants remain -- and they’ve decided to complement their death ray with silver and gold, both fine conductors..

In fact, the silver and gold threads are so conducive that several of the skeletons spring to unlife, animated by the scientist’s tools. They give of sparks and judder through the sands, inconveniencing scientists, passengers, and ants alike. Passengers watch the train in shifts, keeping the electric dead at bay with long poles.

The Stop has Danger 5. Since it’s so high, the travelers are unable to rest and take in the sights. Moreover, they’ll need to be very lucky if they want to leave with a fond keepsake or without suffering Damage. The train will remain for one round of Stop Actions. Tune in next time to find out how the travelers fare!

[dontcare77ghj]

Leisure Sickness

Natasha x reader x Tony x Steve

Leisure sickness is defined as a psychological condition in which people, read workaholics, can become ill when given time off.

Leisure sickness's symptoms can include headaches, nausea, insomnia, and vomiting.

These symptoms quickly became synonymous with Steve, Natasha, Y/N, and Tony whenever they went on vacation.

The four of you had decided that you'd had enough with the media and the general public for this season. It seemed as if everyone had an opinion on the team, and you were all sick of it.

So Steve had pitched the idea of the four of you going on vacation for a couple of weeks. 

It had been a lot of back and forth before the four of you came to a decision that you were all happy with. 

The four of you would take three weeks off from the world unless it was about to end and stay at a house on Tony's private island.

"This place is massive. I'm pretty sure I've been lost for the last hour." You said, entering the kitchen where Natasha and Steve were putting groceries away. 

"You've been gone ten minutes, doll." Steve chuckled, stocking the fridge full of drinks.

"Are you sure? Because I'm pretty sure it's been an hour." You commented, taking a seat on the counter. "Are we sure time doesn't work differently here?"

"How much coffee have you had?" Natasha asked, quirking an eyebrow. 

"I had two cups on the plane." You told her honestly. 

"You mean the cups that were basically soup bowls?" Steve clarified.

"I drank whatever was served to me." You shrugged. 

"We're going to talk about that later," Natasha said, pointing a finger at you. "But first, can you find Tony? We haven't seen him since we got here."

"Sure. I've explored a lot of this place. I should be able to find him." You shrugged, jumping off the counter.

"Alright, we'll see you in an hour," Steve said, receiving the middle finger from you. 

To be fair, Steve might have been pretty spot on. To explore just the ground floor took you about twenty minutes, and there were still two floors, both with dozens of rooms each, to search. 

"What's behind door number nineteen?" You mumbled, pulling open your nineteenth door, you'd been counting, to reveal another bathroom. 

Except this one held your Tony. A Tony who wasn't looking so good.

"Tones?" You asked quietly, moving to kneel beside the empty bathtub Tony was occupying. "What's wrong, hon?" 

"Just a bit of a headache," Tony mumbled. 

"And you're in the bathtub because?"

"It's nice and cool," Tony told you, keeping his eyes closed.

"Okay, how about you stay here, and I'll get you something for your head?" You suggested, gently brushing hair off his forehead.

"Thank you," Tony mumbled, leaning his head back once more.

"Couldn't you find him?" Steve asked when you reentered the kitchen.

"No, I found him." You told him, beginning to look through the cupboards. "Hauled up in a bathtub with a raging headache. Did we pack any Tylenol?"

"Here," Natasha said, throwing it to you. "I thought he looked a little pale on the plane." She commented.

"He was fine before we got on the plane, though," Steve mentioned. "You think it's an extreme form of jetlag?"

"Could be. It could also be the fact that Tony's not looked after himself at all the past week." You said. "He's been working himself to the bone. His body probably doesn't understand what's going on."

"So we should expect him to feel worse." Natasha deduced. "I'll make something to settle his stomach." She nodded to herself.

"And I'll deliver this." You said, shaking the pills. 

"I'll come with you. I imagine the bathtub's not that comfortable, and Tony might not want to walk to the bedroom." Steve said, moving to follow you. 

"Has death finally come for me?" Tony asked when the two of you made your way back to him.

"Not yet, Tones." You told him, kneeling in the same place as before.

"And not for a long time," Steve added, bending beside you.

"Ugh, I really thought it was him that time." Tony sighed before cracking his eyes open. "Did you bring the good stuff?"

"I did." You nodded, dosing out two of the tablets and handing them to him. "Give me a second, and I'll get you some water." You said, rising to stand, but Tony took the two dry. "That's disgusting."

"Water's for bitches." Tony grunted before closing his eyes again. 

"Come on, Tony, let's get you to bed," Steve said to him. 

"Too much work." Tony denied before Steve picked him up. "Woah! Give a man a little warning." Tony grumbled as Steve chuckled quietly. 

"Asking's for bitches." You teased, walking in front of the two and opening doors.

"Get some rest, Tony," Steve said, putting onto the bed and pulling the covers over him.

"I'll shut my eyes for a few minutes, and I'll be fine," Tony mumbled, rolling over onto his side.

It didn't even take Tony another minute before he was fast asleep.

The next time the four of you decided to go on vacation, you'd decided to go a bit more touristy. 

The four of you were in London for two weeks and would be spending your days visiting every popular tourist attraction. It was your second day in London, the first dedicated to sleeping off the jetlag, and you would soon be leaving the house.

At least you would be if you could settle your stomach.

Your stomach had been churning all night, and no matter what, you couldn't stop it. You'd managed to crawl into the bathroom and not wake anyone, but now you were stuck on the floor.

"Sweetheart? Y/N?" You could hear your name being called. "Y/N, where are you?" 

The bathroom door opened, but you couldn't lift your head from its position.

"Found her," Natasha called before walking over to you. "You look like shit, med," Natasha said, placing a hand on your back.

"Nice, real nice." You groaned, lifting your head slightly. "Just give me a minute to get up and get dressed, and we can get going." 

"The only place you're going is back to bed," Natasha told you as Steve and Tony entered the bathroom.

"Doll, are you okay?" Steve questioned you.

"I'm fine. I just need help getting up. And maybe getting dressed." You told him.

"Y/N, you are sick," Natasha said firmly.

"Nu-uh, I haven't thrown up yet." You denied.

"You don't look too far off from it, babe," Tony informed you. "How long have you been here?"

"I don't know. It was still dark when I came in." You grunted before dry heaving, but nothing would come up.

"Okay, Steve, would you please get some ginger ale?" Natasha asked, pulling your hair off your face. "Y/N, when was the last time you ate?"

"Not sure."

"Okay, add some saltines to that order too, Steve," Natasha told him.

"Do you honestly not remember the last time you ate?" Tony asked, coming to sit next to Natasha.

"I was working on that paperwork for Nick until the minute we left." You mumbled. "Forgot to eat."

"And that's most likely why you're feeling like crap now." Natasha hummed. "Do you think you'll be okay if we get you back to bed?"

"Just leave me here to perish." You groaned.

"No can do, you're stuck with us," Tony said as he helped Natasha pull you to your feet.

"Sorry I ruined vacation." You whimpered as you were laid in bed.

"You didn't ruin anything, med," Natasha promised, brushing hair from your forehead. "Not at all."

"We still have time before we have to go home." Tony soothed your guilty conscience. "There's plenty of time to do all the touristy bullshit your little heart desires."

"Yay." You moaned, curling into a ball.

It was a long time before the four of you were able to go on another vacation. 

Missions had begun to become back to back and would last weeks, Tony was forced to travel for SI, and Fury seemed to have an unhealthy attachment to long meetings.

It was after Natasha had been on a mission for two months, Tony had been in Japan for one month, and you and Steve had endured countless hours in the hands of Fury that Steve declared you all needed a vacation. 

Steve had literally googled relaxing vacations before deciding upon Brittany, France. 

Though Steve had argued with Fury, for what felt like days, Steve was only able to barter a week off for the four of you.

"Tony, why do you have more bags than me?" You asked as Steve attempted to play Tetris with your luggage.

"I like to have options, dear," Tony said, pulling his sunglasses on. "Never know when one of those parasites are going to spot me."

"Don't call reporters parasites." Steve chided.

"Are we ready to go yet?" Natasha asked, pulling on a jacket despite it being a warm day. "The plane is going to leave soon."

"Just one more bag, and we can get going," Steve told her, picking up a small suitcase.

"Can I once again point out how ridiculous that is? I own the plane. It should wait for me." Tony scoffed, climbing into the car with Natasha right behind him. 

The four of you faced no more problems until halfway through the flight. Natasha had jumped from her seat, startling the three of you from your half-asleep states, and bolted into the plane's bathroom. 

It was seconds before the sounds of retching filled the plane. 

"Tash?" Steve asked as the three of you stood up.

"I'm good." Natasha choked out. "Get away from the door, Steven."

"How'd she know it was only me?" Steve grumbled, walking back over to you and Tony.

"Spy, Steven!"

Natasha stayed in the bathroom for another seven minutes exactly. When she exited, her skin was flushed, she was covered in a thick layer of sweat, and she was shivering violently. 

"FRI give me Nat's temperature," Tony demanded as you rushed to pull Natasha to a chair.

"101.3, boss," FRIDAY informed you all.

"Shit, Nat," Steve swore. "How long have you been running a fever?"

"Not running a fever." Natasha denied, lounging back in the chair and pulling her jacket closer.

"101.3 is a fever, Tash." You said, pulling her jacket off. "We might have to get you to a hospital." 

"How long until we land, FRI?" 

"Three hours, boss." 

"We're going to have to bring her temperature down ourselves," Steve said, grabbing a towel and dumping his iced water on it.

By the time the plane landed, the three of you had successfully managed to bring Natasha's temperature down. 

The four of you emerged from the plane, Natasha cradled in Steve's arms.

"That was probably the most stressful start to a vacation," Tony commented as you all entered a waiting car. "Let's get you to a hospital, hey, Nat?"

The four of you stayed away from vacations for a long time after that incident. Not because you were all slightly traumatized but because life seemed to pick up its pace once more.

It had been a year and a half since Natasha had a raging fever, and now the four of you were on yet another getaway. 

Except for this time, it was for new reasons.

The four of you had had a commitment ceremony just two days ago, the Asgardian equivalent of a polyamorous wedding. 

It had been a long time coming and a lot of planning, but it was worth it. And it had meant everything to you all.

Now the four of you were on your honeymoon in Tony's rebuilt Malibu home. 

"Do you think we'd get in trouble if we moved here?" Natasha asked, pulling her sunglasses down.

"From who? We're all adults. Who would we get in trouble with?" Tony asked her.

"Fury. The government. The news. The world." You listed off. 

"At the end of the day, how much do they really matter?" Tony shrugged, pulling you onto his lap. 

"You would avoid Nick?" Natasha asked, quirking a brow. 

"The pirate doesn't scare me." Tony shook his head as you and Natasha grinned. "Don't tell him I said that." 

Before either of you could respond, the sound of footsteps coming closer caused you all to look up.

Steve was staggering over to the poolside, looking very much worse for wear.

"Jesus, Stevie, how many laps did you do?" Natasha asked as Steve stole her water and gulped it down.

"One." Steve gasped. "I felt like I was going to pass out, so I quit."

"Jesus Christ, sit down, Steve." You ordered, standing and moving over to the blonde. "You are really pale." You tsked, holding his head in your hands. 

"That's the Irish in him." Tony joked, now standing behind you with Natasha at his side. 

"When was the last time you slept?" You asked, running your finger over the prominent dark circles.

"The wedding night." Steve sighed. "I haven't been able to sleep since."

"You're exhausted, Steve." Natasha pointed out. "You can't run on willpower alone."

"I know that, but I physically can't make myself sleep," Steve told her. "I don't know what it is, but I can't."

"Maybe it's because you're trying to force yourself to sleep instead of allowing yourself to." Tony reasoned. 

"Why did you get all philosophical?" Steve asked him. 

"Always have been. Let's get you to bed, Cap." Tony said, helping Steve to his feet. With a bit of maneuvering, the three of you were able to move the bulky super soldier to your large bed and put him under the covers.

"Stay, please," Steve mumbled, already half asleep. 

"Always, Stevie." You said as the three of you crawled in beside your Steve.

Vacations could always be stressful, but it seemed for the four of you it was always amplified. Especially when someone always managed to get sick.

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