#inoculate fic

[cup-of-shark]

recently got hella into Inoculate by @asreoniplier, and as such have decided the best way to get my insanity about it out is to draw

yayyyyy !!!!!!

art under cut due to : light body horror, eye horror, lab setting

my horrible awful wretched beast <3 he wants [us] dead so bad lmaoooo

progress pics also:

[jamiesfootball]

👻 trick or treat 👻

(Pretend to be surprised I’m back begging for more)

And I am delighted about it- you can have as many as you'd like : )

“One day,” his tía announced, “You will not be so lucky. You will do what you always do, and the universe, it will pull the rug out from under you! The consequences, Dani, they will come for you!” Her bit said, Tia Ely turned her show back on. The subtitles danced along in bright yellow at the bottom of the screen, but everything else the castle and the people marched dully through the world. Dani did not understand why mama and Tia Ely liked Downton Abbey. It made the world seem so gray. After what felt like an hour of sitting contritely, but was likely around fifteen minutes, Dani quietly excused himself from the room.

[master-gatherer]

I have reread what I wrote

It's not terrible

I'm still not happy with it 😐

I may still be too close to it

Does anyone want to volunteer to beta 😬 (mutuals only)

[revelboo]

The speed in which you crank out fics is concerning. Like, I appreciate it WHOLLY, but are you good? R u ok?

Rest is overrated, I run on stress and coffee. Yes, I’m good. I can write short form like this pretty quickly if I’m not at work or busy.

Humans Are Weird/Cute Headcanons

Humans elicit one of two reactions in Cybertronians. It’s not like they haven’t seen organic life before, but the fact that we look vaguely like most Cybertronians in form? Our faces, our body shapes, two legs and two arms just like them? It either creates an unconscious association that we look like tiny, organic Cybertronians or that the similarities are just unsettling. Compounding it is the way we move, the gestures we use that are so eerily like their own. To make it worse, we’re just so helpless compared to them. Fragile. There’s a tendency to react to us like we would a newborn kitten. And for that protectiveness to eventually slide into possessiveness.

TFP Knockout

• Primus. The first time he saw you in full racing leathers, boots, gloves, and that helmet, he just stopped short in surprise. Thinks of the rare times he’d seen minicons and how you look like one instead of just another squishy, little human. And while he’d initially just been invested in figuring out how an inferior, little human beat him in a race, it doesn’t take long for him to start looking forward to those almost nightly meetings. It becomes less about winning and more about the bull session between you two after. Enjoying when you stand up to him, argue with him, even though you must realize he could hurt you so easily if he wanted to.

IDW Bumblebee

• It’s honestly such a pleasant surprise how tactile humans are. You seem to have no sense of personal space and he loves it, because it’s less lonely when you’re near. You don’t mind being picked up and carried, your little frame so warm in his hands or cradled against him. Always so curious, your little hands exploring his servos, while you smile to yourself. Then holding out your own hands so he can carefully manipulate them with a single servo. It’s like a game between you, showing off your little, blunt teeth so he will bare his denta for you as you sit on his thigh.

IDW Bluestreak

• Knows he can be a bit annoying to some bots, but you never seem bothered by his chatter. Actually asking him questions, interacting and it means so much to him when you stretch out against him, laying a cheek on him to listen to the sound of his voice rumbling through you. Liking it when he talks, wanting to be near him. The big surprise, though? How protective you are of him, not even thinking twice about throwing a shoe at Sunny for making a rude comment aimed at him, your little face red as you snarl at the much bigger bot, who’s too shocked at the outburst to respond.

IDW Starscream

• Having so little to call his own, he’s extremely possessive of you. It doesn’t hurt that you’re always happy to see him, greeting him when he returns from patrol, fussing over his injuries like you’re trying to take care of him. No conniving or plotting in you and no ulterior motives for seeking out his company. Aside from leeching body heat, and he hardly minds that, enjoys the feel of you sprawled against him, the peaceful silence.

TFP Soundwave

• Even though he initially took you because of the effect your strange organic thoughts have on him to try and understand why he can’t shut you out, it’s impossible to stay impartial. Every day he tries to inoculate himself against your thoughts, strengthening that connection through touch. And when you start reaching for him in return it’s a surprise. Eventually you sing for him not because he asked you to in an effort to distract you and focus your thoughts on something so they’re less painful to him, but because you want to. Because you think it makes him happy and it does.

ES Megatron

• He’d never paid much attention to humans until he’d met Dorothy, he’d fought alongside her and suddenly humanity wasn’t just something vaguely annoying getting in his way, under ped. It’s harder to not care after getting to know humans. Harder to not be overprotective about you after making it his mission to look after you. And maybe he’s a bit overzealous about it, because you’re not Dorothy. She can stand on her own and take care of herself, but you? You need him.

IDW Optimus

• He’s so used to being bigger than most Autobots. Of being looked up to, but you’re even tinier than they are. Small enough to carry in one hand even though he’s awkward about asking you to let him carry you at first. But after the spark twisting anxiety of watching you walking where bigger Cybertronians are walking? Seeing it not even occur to you that you might get stepped on? He insists on carrying you for your own safety, though, truth be told, he enjoys the feel of you in his servos, that little bemused smile you aim at him.

IDW Thundercracker

• He feels guilty sometimes about taking you, but it’s for the best even if you’re upset now. He’s seen enough movies to know how to coax you, win you over. He became obsessed with human love stories, the drama and romance. And he wants that for himself. Needs it. So he tries different tactics, little gifts and acts meant to convince you to love him. It’s so easy in the movies.

TFP Megatron

• The game you two play has become something of a guilty pleasure of his. Watching you pretend. Pushing you to see how far you’ll allow before you snap at him. Pretending you aren’t scared of him, though he’s seen the fear in your eyes once or twice and while it had amused him at first, he prefers you snarling back at him, all attitude. Your fear twists unpleasantly through him, but that angry defiance? So lovely.

IDW Soundwave

• He never meant to get so attached to you after he’d found you in Starscream’s quarters that day. You’re just so small and you’d looked at him in fear, your wild emotions almost crippling him since he couldn’t shut it out. Even after you calmed, days later, he finds himself reaching out a thought. Finding you and monitoring you from a distance. Again and again until he’d finally had to check on you in person again. After all, what did Starscream really know about caring for anyone, let alone a human. And that hesitant, little smile had warmed him when you’d looked up at him.

IDW Jazz

• The fact that you can see through his lies and will call him out on it? It’s a surprise and a relief. Letting down his defenses, letting you in takes time. He’s worn that smiling, carefree mask for so long. But he slowly lets it fall away when it’s just the two of you, feeling the absence of that weight he’d carried for so long. Getting to know who he is under the facade.

IDW Prowl

• Has to protect you since you don’t seem to understand just how small and delicate you are. Standing up to him and any other bot with zero fear. Something about that reckless anger calls to him. Around the other Autobots, he has to be the one in control, the one with a plan no matter what. Never allowed to falter or hesitate. You spark his own temper, making it easier to drop the act. Be frustrated or angry when it’s just you two. Be real.

Next

[halfagonyandhope]

How about a good ol’ sick fic 🤒 you choose who’s under the weather

He’s not sure he’s ever been this terrified before.

And that’s saying something, as just a standard month prior Obi-Wan Kenobi had been on the brink of death after falling victim to the venom-mites of Draboon. But that had been different. For one thing, he’d been mostly unconscious through the worst of the pain. And for another, he’d known Satine had been safe.

But now, on the other side of the planet, he’s also on the other side of fate, and he’s staring down at a nearly lifeless Satine, watching her shiver by the fading light of the fire.

Obi-Wan looks up toward the entrance to the cave, as though he has the ability to summon Qui-Gon back with sheer willpower alone. The elder Jedi had gone in search of more kindling to feed the dying flames, and he’d been away long enough that the temperature of their sanctuary had dropped precipitously.

Satine is shaking again, her fever still high.

Obi-Wan hesitates. He’d already wrapped his cloak around her, but he feels so damn helpless.

He remembers Qui-Gon’s words from earlier, in response to his question.

“Mandalorian medical factories pivoted away from producing vaccines and toward production of bandages and other supplies when the war began,” he’d told Obi-Wan. “When your people are dying, you don’t allocate resources to preventive health; you triage your available facilities to stop the bleeding where it’s currently happening.”

Obi-Wan had looked at him, aghast. “So Satine’s immune system isn’t as strong as yours or mine? That’s why we haven’t caught whatever she has?”

“Thank the healers at the Temple that your inoculations are up to date,” Qui-Gon had responded. “I’d wager that Satine’s people haven’t had access to such technology for many years.”

Obi-Wan returns his attention to here, now, in the cave. Oh, how he wishes he’d had the foresight to take her to the Hall of Healing before they’d departed Coruscant. But they’d had so little time, and he’d had so little knowledge of what they would face on the run.

He sighs.

Satine jerks suddenly, and a coughing fit seizes her entire body. It’s an eerie, horrible sound that echoes throughout the cave, and she struggles to catch her breath afterward.

Obi-Wan crawls to her, seeing that she’s awake.

“Water,” she mouths, her throat too weak to form the words.

Obi-Wan nods and reaches for the canteen near his feet. With his other arm, he pulls Satine up, holding her against his chest, her torso at a slight incline so that gravity can do the work she is too exhausted to. He puts the canteen to her lips, and she manages to swallow a few sips.

He sets the canteen aside, wrapping his other arm around her and noticing how she’s sweat through her tunic. But the sweat is turning cold as the temperature around them plummets, and Satine is still shaking.

And Obi-Wan is terrified all over again.

He pulls the cloak more tightly around her.

She just needs to make it through the night. Tomorrow, Qui-Gon will rendezvous with a contact who has retrovirals and antibiotics, the former to treat the initial infection and the latter to treat what Obi-Wan suspects is secondary pneumonia.

She just needs to make it through the night.

He realizes with a jolt that Satine is no longer shaking.

“Satine?” he whispers, alarmed.

“‘M alright,” she says, slurring her words, her cheek against his collarbone. “Finally warm.”

Obi-Wan examines her more closely. Sweat has stuck her hair to her face, and he brushes the strands away from her brow. The relief he feels upon seeing the tension fade from her jaw - it’s practically indescribable. 

Gradually, the tension also lessens in her shoulders and around her torso.

Obi-Wan feels Satine’s fingers fist in the fabric of his tunic, just over his heart. Her eyes are still closed, but she says, her voice cracking and strained, “I must have been quite close to death to receive that reaction.”

He laughs at how she’s echoed his words from when he’d woken by her side after surviving the venom-mite attack.

He tightens his grip on her. “You’re still quite close to death, by all appearances,” he notes.

“Well, then, I suppose you better keep being nice to me.” She breathes deeply but unevenly. “At least until I pull through. Then you can resume being insufferable.”

“Insufferable?” he says, disbelieving. She’d been the one who’d continued to be argumentative, even after the venom-mites.

Even after she’d kissed him.

Even after he’d kissed her back.

Obi-Wan grimaces. Maybe he’d also been argumentative. 

And maybe he’d liked it.

“Yes,” says Satine, her voice cracking. “Insufferable man. Incorrigible, even.”

In love, Obi-Wan’s brain supplies suddenly, and he tenses. He looks down again at Satine, wondering if she’s noticed, but she’s fallen back asleep, reclaimed by unconsciousness.

He closes his eyes in wonder.

The realization should frighten him more than anything else, but it doesn’t.

From the start, it’s like he had known she’d change everything he thought he knew about the galaxy. He’d pushed her away, repeatedly, scared of what she’d reveal about his feelings and how those feelings would reveal he wasn’t made to be a Jedi.

But he finds - to his surprise - that his feelings for her…somehow they don’t negate his ability to protect her. They don’t endanger her, or him.

The light he feels, the strength of his feelings - it all makes it easier to connect with the Force. It makes him a better Jedi.

It feels so antithetical to everything he’s ever been taught that he wonders if he’d ever really understood the Jedi at all.

Obi-Wan brushes a kiss to Satine’s temple.

And, suddenly, he’s afraid no longer.

[local-limebug]

not enough people utilizing the fact that the night nurse is a comic character. not a 1:1 adaptation, but still, seems to be inspired from the comics' "nightmare nurse", who is inoculated against all illnesses and can apparently cure them all too or something. why is no one utilizing this in any fics

[fakegingerrights]

Started writing a new fic (don't ask about the wips they don't exist ok-) but if any of yall are interested with an angsty Kakagen TLOU AU fic, here you go. Ongoing fic, we'll see how far I get with this one.

Summary:

"Genma's world is ending. He's a time bomb waiting to go off, inoculations given over a decade ago only serving to extend his ever ticking clock longer than normal. Already entangled in a massive cross country trip to look for a cure up at a northern Heike compound, he follows one of his oldest friends a in a bid to get the ingredients of the cure to the facility in one piece. Unfortunately, said ingredients are sporting ludicrously pink hair and an attitude to match that makes their job that much harder, for all he that he's fond of her. Grappling with his own mortality and looming undeath, Genma just wants to get the payday that would ensure his partner's continued success, for all he may not live to see it.

And maybe, if he lets himself indulge in wishful thinking, someone over there will be able to help him before the 'shrooms finally get to his mind."

[malfiora]

Dick Grayson headcanon

To set up for really stupid jokes, very cool references, and super deep cuts I want to make later:

He is both Romanian and Romani. (Yes, I learned only eight months ago that these words are false cognates of each other, and yes I am doubling down on my ignorance rather than admitting fault and moving on.) Here's how it works:

Mary (nee Lloyd) Grayson is Romani. She grew up in central/western Europe, traveling with her family and the circus.

John Grayson is of Gaelic descent and his family split and moved out of Ireland/Scotland – some went to the United States (settling in and near Gotham; this is documented by the Court of Owls), while others traveled east to Romania. This is where he meets Mary. This Gaelic lineage plays out in two ways: one, the surname Grayson derives from Middle English, and two, people of Gaelic descent often had dark hair and blue/violet eyes (as opposed to later Ires who are associated with red hair and green eyes).

Why this matters (to me):

We get to retain Dick's Romani identity and highlight a connection between the Romani people and Romania. For example, this fact that I love: The lăutari who perform at traditional Romanian weddings are virtually all Romani (Wikipedia). Romania is the country that has also the fourth largest Romani population.

We see this bear out in the comics a bit. We get Mary's backstory through Raptor in Nightwing (2016), and we get Dick being set up as a Dracula stand-in in DC vs. Vampires. See below (For context, Dracula is based on real-life Romanian ruler Vlad III, nicknamed Vlad the Impaler for his tendency to put his enemies heads on spikes. Did I intentionally choose a panel of Dick impaling Bruce's chest with his fist because of this? Yes, yes I did.)

(And here's another tangent to underscore the ties that the Romani people have to Romania – in both Dracula and Nosferatu, the Romani are the ones who try to warn the main characters not to go to the castle because they know it's evil.)

[Rebirth] Nightwing (2016) #1

Text:

Raptor (narrating): She was young and full of fire. She didn't trust authority. Didn't trust anyone who thought there was more to life than jumping off something high and laughing. We went to the Hotel De Ville. We found what they'd been hiding there behind toothy smiles and empty promises. Vials of antibiotics and inoculation intended to be distributed to the poor unfortunates in the Cirque Romanes. We took what was ours. And then went to the mayor's home and took whatever else we wanted. She said he owed us. She said it was justice.

Raptor: I wasn't one to make oaths. But I made one that day. To her. To Marie the Skydancer. Mary Lloyd. Thief. Outlaw. Your mom.

DC vs. Vampires #6

Text:

Batman: [pained noise]

Nightwing: I think it's time we both stopped lying to our family, Father.

---

And we get to highlight cultural hallmarks (hopefully without stereotyping) from both communities. For example, Dick being a world-class gymnast makes a lot more sense when we remember that Romania consistently takes home gold medals for gymnastics; it is the country's top sport.

All of this to say:

This is how my brain makes sense of two seemingly contradictory pieces of information: the Grayson lineage being connected to Gotham as told in 2011 Nightwing versus Mary's backstory as told in 2016 Nightwing. While these are different canons, combining them actually makes Dick's identity more rich and realistic.

And of course I have to save face and say that in my jaydick fic Tongue Tied, I very intentionally made Dick a Romanian language instructor. (This is the first time I get to explain the rationale behind that – better late than never?)

[possumproductions]

Deathnote zombie au…. What if in response to kira a cult popped up offering an inoculation to his powers - a promise that kira would no longer be able to kill even with your face and name- the catch being that youre already dead and the deathnote does nothing to zombies-

As a result the illness spreads out of rapid terror and light goes into hiding just before (in canon) he tries to kill L- the public becomes convinced the only way to stop the contagion is to find and kill kira. L knows its light, but knows if he shares his face and name with the public light will be ripped apart- he decides he has to wait.

Years later and the world is a full blown zombie apocalypse, light has managed to survive and hide but as a consequence has basically ended his reign as kira. He wants to find a cure, and he knows L is likely trying too- he decides to return to help.

Misa meanwhile, after being abandoned by light, is living with L and rem at his house/fortress- shes become a baddass hunter with rem at her side and goes out on raids for supplies- L and misa have become very close and bonded over their strange shared connection to light.

When light shows up, L basically opens the door with a gun raised to lights chest-

The fic is about how L and light have both lost their purpose in the Kira case, and how now they have to overcome their past as enemies to work together (aaaaaand deal with their building fondness and desire for each other cause ofc they never met someone who was their match since)

>:)

[mischief-and-tea-by-the-sea]

More Mood Board Madness

The three bingos I co-mod, @marvelrarepairbingo, @scottsummersbingo, and @scoganbingo, are running the Mood Board Madness game again, this time all with the lists of prompts to choose from. I still want to do more for all three, and still need to do at least one for Scogan, but here are the ones for the Scott Summers Bingo and the Marvel Rare Pair Bingo.

==========================================

No real write-up for this one. Just pretty images of pretty boys and cute kids. Scott Summers and Tony Stark taking their little family away on a beach vacation. For the Mood Board Madness prompt: Baby/Kids (Parent).

==========================================

I got a little carried away on the concept write-up, so I had to save it as an image in order to post it to the MRP Discord, so here it is. Definitely will become a fic on this one at some point. Because I don't have enough WIPs, yanno? For the Mood Board Madness prompts: Horror Movie and Hallmark Romance. (I know what I said.)

Text of the story concept image under the read more.

Concept: James Barnes, drafted into the Army at 25 to fight in a war he had no desire to contribute to, found himself going from private to sergeant not long after setting foot in Viet Nam. He was set to lead a 'special battalion', given so-called special tasks in the darker, unmapped jungles. Like his men, he never understood what made them so special - nobody grunts who hadn't finished (or even gone) to college, made it through high school by the skin of their teeth, and none claiming any sweethearts back home. James only had his mom, sister Becky, and his best friend Steve, who'd wanted so badly to enlist, but due to health issues and him being a straight A student in college, he didn't have to worry about serving at all.

They'd been given all their usual inoculations and some the Army said hadn't even been introduced to the populace as they were specific to protect them from the unknown diseases lying in wait where they were being sent to. The battalion, self-named the Howling Commandos, saw some of the nastiest battles of the war, many of them coming at them in the dead of night. The men were ferocious in battle, never losing, even tearing the enemy limb from limb. They awoke amid bodies that looked as if wild animals had torn into them with their teeth. The longer they were in those jungles, the more vicious they became until one morning, James woke up with only two other survivors from his battalion, and they couldn't remember what happened. After they were sent home, only flashbacks awaited them. After a year of those flashbacks, James was left the sole survivor as Dum Dum and Jim Morita couldn't live with the memories of what they'd done. Of who they ate. James hated those memories, but he dug his heels in, learned to live with what the Army had turned him into with their "inoculations," and decided he didn't mind the taste of human flesh.

It made dating difficult, however, over the years. Not many women or men would've been too happy to learn they were falling in love with a cannibal. Even if James stuck to eating the worst of the worst of society, dining on humans didn't exactly make him boyfriend material. He was grateful when the internet was invented, especially the chat rooms - especially especially the type to draw the darker souls in, the ones he could share his deepest, darkest secret, the one he'd never even been able to stell Stevie about.

It took a year, year and a half, but he met him. The stranger who only called himself Loki, like the Norse Trickster god. He'd spoken up only after James had tossed out a question that most others had taken as a joke - "What do I do with all the blood?" To James' surprise, Loki had the perfect solution to his actual problem.

Loki was a vampire.

It wasn't long before they were speaking in private chat rooms, just the two of them. Sharing jokes, Loki trading recipes for the cannibal's kitchen in exchange for new places to hunt. Okay, so maybe at first, James thought Loki was full of shit - one of those Anne Rice wannabe vampire nutjobs who dressed in goth clothes all the time, pretending to drink blood out of wine glasses, but he never wanted to call the guy out on it in case Loki slapped back by calling him Hannibal in a less than affectionate way.

And then they met face to face. James suggested it first, and after some gentle coaxing (maybe a little begging - what? James was desperate for anyone who could understand him, and for all he adored his best friend, Steve had enough going on in his life with his art showings and taking care of his sick Ma to have to deal with his fucked up monster of a friend), Loki agreed. They met at an all-night diner tucked away in an old Brooklyn neighborhood. When James saw Loki sitting in the booth near the window, he had to smile - he definitely looked like the vampire sort - long dark hair and striking light green eyes, skin the color of the palest coffee milk, an imported Turkish cigarette dangling from his lips. Well, he either looked like a vampire or a musician, though James was pretty sure they weren't mutually exclusive. He sat down, ordered coffee and a steak - bloody rare - and took note that Loki was only drinking coffee with a glass of water next to it. They hit it off right away, and if nothing else, James thought it'd be nice to have a weird and dark-minded new friend to hang out with, though damn the guy was hot, and he'd love to fall in love. He'd love to have someone to fall in love with who'd at least understand that maybe he just had a dark sense of humor about eating people. James glanced out the window at the people walking by on the street, and noticed -

Loki didn't have a reflection.

It's 2024. James and Loki have been together all this time. After going out for two years, they finally moved in together. James went to school to become a chef, and Loki could easily bankroll a posh apartment in Manhattan, though they sprung for an old brownstone that gave them all the room they required for their dietary needs. James never had to worry about what to do with all that blood anymore, and in fact, he might've come up with one or two creative ways to feed it to his boyfriend.

[sifloopboning]

YOu're making me hauve covid again over sifdile!! Unfair! I thought I was inoculated. Now I need to go read all the Sifdile fics I can get my grubby little hands on, again! >:(

hehehehehegehehehe :3c all according to keikaku (keikaku means plan)...........

[revelboo]

Currently CRYING over your tarantulas fic it's so SOFT and SWEET! LET ME KISS THE SPIDER MAN!!!

Sure!

Disappear Pt 12

Tarantulas x Reader

• Soft, little fingers run over his face, his mandibles. Trembling faintly as you map him out and he wonders if you’re inoculating yourself against the fear of him. Against his monstrous form. And your thigh slides between his when you wiggle closer, his extra limbs hooking against you, tugging you flush and easing back immediately. “Sorry,” he growls, servos flexing against your throat. Trying so hard to not frighten you.

• Heart racing, you run a fingertip down his chassis, tracing his biolights and he shifts restlessly against you, those spidery limbs hooking you again. “What for?” Reaching up with your other hand, you curl a finger against his mandible and tug, watching them flex slightly as he leans closer to you, mandibles brushing your lips. And his big hand slides to your shoulder to grip it when you close the distance, finding his mouth when he shifts his mandibles for you. Lips parting without hesitation when you swipe your tongue against him, cautiously exploring his sharp denta as he growls and it rumbles through you.

• Your soft mouth slides against his and he’s so scared he’ll accidentally cut you with his fangs. That you’ll come to your senses and stop. Wanting to slow down, to do this right even as his limbs drag you flush against him like they have a mind of their own. Can scent you, taste you, feel the rapid beat of your heart against him. Wants to be inside you, to claim you as his. “Slow down,” he groans against your mouth even as he shifts over you, the nest bouncing with his movements. And he’s not sure if the words are for you or himself.

• That quaver in his voice spins you tight as he cages you with his much bigger body, those extra limbs restlessly moving against you, hooking under your thighs, plucking at your clothes. He’s really not so frightening. Visor brightening slightly as he pushes up slightly and you reach for him, missing the warmth of him, the weight of him against you. And he hisses with a low chittering growl, settling himself between your thighs again. Rocking himself against you through your clothes.

• Feels those soft hands running over him, no longer cautious and unsure as your mouth brushes his neck and his spike stirs. Unsure if you really want this or if you’re just curious. Wants to be more to you than a simple curiosity, than an experience. Doesn’t want to be alone anymore. Shunned because of his form. Resting his head against your forehead as his extra limbs tap and shift against you, he can’t make himself say anything. To ask. And you’re reaching for him, mouth finding his again. Would you stay? Let him keep you? Be his?

Previous

Next

[bigfan-fanfic]

Inoculation (Institute!Sole Survivor Reader x MacCready)

Can you do a fic with Institute Sole Survivor and MacReady being domestic with Duncan in the Institute? Having a conversation about raising Duncan and they reassured each other about their situation

Free time is... a relatively foreign concept for MacCready.

Out There... you always have to be doing something.

Foraging, boiling water to purify it, watching out for Raiders or Feral Ghouls or something.

And your moments not spent in direct activity are spent in resting and recharging for more of the same.

But here in the Institute...

MacCready compulsively brushes off the white jumpsuit he wears, the black lines designating him a part of the SRB division. These may be the cleanest clothes he's ever worn, and he still worries about getting them dirty.

Some of the SRB brainiacs gave MacCready dirty looks the first few days - until they saw him in Advanced Systems with a plasma rifle.

Now he's an asset. One of them. They're glad to have him on their side.

No one could say he gets a pass just because he's sleeping with the Director.

They said from the start that he's your husband. It eases their sensibilities, and MacCready's happy that it keeps anyone else from flirting with him.

But in any case, the people in the Institute are quite free with their time - they take breaks, have long lunches, and everyone gets to leave to pick up their kids from school.

MacCready will sometimes have nearly an hour to kill before Duncan gets out of the school.

It's hard to have time to think. Thinking was counterproductive to survival before. You avoid having time on your hands to contemplate all the horror.

But here, there's just... everything's clean. The air is crisp, carefully filtered. It's temperature controlled. Just cool enough.

"Out here all by your lonesome, Mac?" Your hands slip around his waist, and you kiss him on the cheek. MacCready closes his eyes and basks in the sudden solidity you bring him. "What's wrong? You been thinkin'? I told you to cut that out, you'll hurt yourself-"

MacCready looks at you. "You get out early, Director?"

"Yeah. Figured we'd do somethin fun with Duncan."

"Hmm..."

"Mac..."

"Don't get me wrong - I like it here. I like that Duncan can grow up... safe. Actually safe. I guess... I just wonder if it's worth it. Not seeing the sun."

"We can take him out when he's older. When it's safer. Give my operations a chance to work. Let's give the water the chance to be cleaned and the Commonwealth at least to be cleared and de-rad-i-fied."

"And how are you holding up there, Boss? Been a while since you... you know. Took over from, uh, Father, and uh... took charge."

"Yeah. I worry. Am I like he was? Am I doing better? Am I crazy? And then balancing this all out with Duncan..."

"Duncan loves ya. And I guess... we'll just have to wait and see on the rest of it, yeah?'

Another kiss, until-

"Ew." Duncan smirks as he approaches.

MacCready chuckles. "You watch it, little bugger. I'll remember this when you get old enough to kiss."

Duncan runs ahead to get home.

He's safe. We're safe. I promise."

[madametamma]

hey I remember you commented on one of my posts or you shared the idea with me when I asked you one time. specifically the Olsen's 11 where you had this idea of the Justice League conducting a heist at lexCorp. To be honest the more I think about it the more appealing it sounds.

I got the idea from the movie 'Superman Doomsday'. Lex discovered a cure for Muscular dystrophy, just a single one and done inoculation, but stated they would make more money if it was a life time prescription medication and said they were going to keep work shopping it until they found the best way to present the cure to the public in a way that would make them the most money.

It was just meant to be a quick introductory scene for Lex to show he's brilliant, a shrewd businessman, and wants to be seen as a savior to humanity but only if there's something in it for him. It's not a plot point that comes back for the rest of the movie,

but it got me thinking what if one of the JL members discovered that Lex HAD discovered a perfect cure for a horrible disease and that he was planning to price gouge all the people who needed it while still making himself look good for creating any kind of cure in the first place.

So the League sets up a heist. Break into Luthor Corp labs, steal the cure, bring it to scientists who can replicate and reproduce it for humanity for free, all before Lex has the opportunity to patent it and legally own the cure.

I don't think I'll get around to writing this fic but if you want to give it a shot, by all means, give it a go.

[tortoisesshells]

for the five lines meme: “that sometimes savors nobly” for roger/burke?

Roger Collins had read his Dickens, and had an active imagination regardless: he could guess what the attic room in Widow Barnet’s boarding house looked like, and knew the sound of Devlin’s car from the bent axle he was always one good Sunday away from repairing. Devlin’s hands, always rough, went chapped and cracked in winter and he stunk of cheap tobacco, herring, and engine grease year-round. Some of Roger’s – compatriots – at Yale had been bit by that old bug that had afflicted genteel young men as far back as Dana, Jr. (the enemy though he might have been) – but then they’d had the war to lure them off to glorious deaths at sea, or months of squalid, fetid boredom, which was more likely. Collinsport had been a great inoculation against thoughts like these, and meeting one of Liz’s fishermen behind the Blue Whale a booster. Life at sea never made anyone living it happy, or rich.

Send me a character/pairing and a title to get five lines of an imaginary fic.

[theobscurepotato]

Happy Birthday @straysinfiltrator! I am so sad to not be there this year celebrating with you. I hope this year ahead is filled with only the best for you. <3

Unfortunately I have not finished your birthday fic yet, so I will offer you this tumblr teaser instead.

---

It should have been a standard mission. When Blake muttered something to that effect out loud, Avon laughed humorously. 

"You realize, Blake, that even your 'standard missions' are rife with mishaps." 

The comment stung more than Blake expected. He thought himself inoculated against most of Avon's criticisms, finding himself generally amused rather than annoyed. 

It's the truth of it that rankles you. Because you know he's right. No–right or not, now wasn't the time for wallowing in guilt. 

"How are the teleport bracelets coming along?" 

A flash of annoyance crossed the other man's face and for a split second, Blake wondered if Avon was going to throw the pieces on the ground and storm away. But after a moment of uncomfortably long eye contact, Avon resumed fidgeting with the components. "Just as they were when you last asked me. No, I stand corrected: three minutes further along than when you last asked me. Which was-–"

"Three minutes ago. I know." 

The worst thing about it was that the entire crew had agreed to this mission with none of their usual bickering. Planet Zedlak was-–according to Orak–-the host to a rare plant that could be used to combat psychic assault. "It would make me feel safer," Cally had said, hesitantly, and even though Blake had seen the strange sort of friendship growing between her and Avon, he was still surprised when the other man volunteered to accompany Blake down to the planet's surface. Volunteered being perhaps not the most accurate of terms--Avon simply told Blake that he was going in a tone that practically invited Blake to argue with him, and so Blake had agreed in order to not give into what he wanted. By…giving into what Avon wanted. (Well, it made rather more sense to him in the moment…)

And it hadn't been unpleasant. The mission had started out quite well. While Zedlak was a harsh and unforgiving planet during the day, prone to temperature extremes, the night air felt cool and fresh. And the planet was possessed of a certain beauty that few planets still retained: the desert floor looked like a reflection of the starry sky; the blooms of the mariposa flowers that were their objective shimmered softly before them, flickering in the darkness. 

It wasn't until they had harvested a kilo of the dense roots that they realized that Avon was having some sort of allergic reaction. And even then, it wasn't until they tried to contact the Liberator and failed that the panic started to set in.

Avon set the bracelets down abruptly and turned to cough wetly into his sleeve. Blake frowned.

"You sound worse. We should move away from the plants."

"A brilliant idea," Avon finally muttered, "if we had any idea what else is out there in the dark." 

"We better hope it stays dark," Blake commented. "Or that desert sun could do some real harm." 

Avon's jaw twitched, but he kept silent as he fidgeted with the bracelets, twisting them back and forth with more aggression than was probably necessary. 

A shock of fluorescent light startled them both. As the harsh beam began sweeping back and forth over the field, Blake pushed Avon to the ground and dropped down next to him. 

"We better hope it's not Servalan," Avon whispered, with an odd smile that looked more terrified than anything else. "Because she will do us real harm."

And enjoy every moment, Blake thought miserably, as he watched Avon bite the palm of his hand to stifle his coughing. "Avon, we need to get out of here. I'll take the bracelets. Keep low and follow me."  

Avon looked like he wanted to argue, but either he lacked an alternate solution, or simply didn't have enough breath to explain one. 

"Follow me," Blake repeated, and without looking to see if Avon complied, he began army-crawling into the thicket.