#like for real am i not looking well enough or is it really a wasteland out there in those tags

[newvegascowboy]

food & agriculture in fallout: extrapolation and speculative worldbuilding

Okay, well. This is going to be an extremely long and data heavy post. Bear with me.

I'm going to go into detail about the crops and available food given to us canonically and textually. I'm going to be drawing some real world parallels between the crops we see in Fallout and what we have here. I'll be pulling relevant data from all the games, but the majority focus on this post is going to be about the east coast and Massachusetts in particular because it gives us the opportunity to participate in the agricultural climate of the wasteland.

Is there a point to this? Not really, but I'm pedantic and I take things too seriously.

my sources will be linked in the text throughout. for those of you who want to read about agricultural and growing zones of the continental united states, please follow me under the cut.

Growing zones and real world agriculture

Shown here are the growing zones of the united states, divided into a temperature map of about 19 different regions. It's fairly intuitive to read -- colder temperatures are north and east, while warmer temperatures are south and west. The majority of the Mojave desert sits between 7a to 9a, a temperature range of about 20 degrees. DC and the nearby section of the southeast coast sits between 7a and 8a. The interactive map linked below will tell you where your growing zone sits.

The 2012 USDA Plant Hardiness Zone Map is the standard by which gardeners and growers can determine which plants are most likely to thrive at a location. The map is based on the average annual minimum winter temperature, divided into 10-degree F zones and further divided into 5-degree F half-zones.

For the moment, we are going to focus on Massachusetts.

Using the temperature above, we can see that the growing zone of Massachusetts is 5a (-20f) at it's very coldest, all the way to 7b, (5f) at it's warmest during winter. Most of what we see in fallout 5 sits in the 6a to 6b zone, which is middle ground during the winter, but cold enough to want to warrant crops that can withstand the frost.

There is a solid 5 month window for planting annual crops, like corn, melons, and gourds like pumpkin. Your perennial crops are limited to fruit trees and possibly grains, depending on the variety and whether or not a perennial variety has been bred.

Cold weather crops include beets, carrots, greens like cabbage, collards, kale, and potatoes. These aren't the types of crops that will survive the winter as much as these are foods that can go in the ground as soon as it is unfrozen enough to be workable. Root vegetables and greens can germinate in soil as cold as 40 degrees Fahrenheit, which provides some leeway with unpredictable frosts and late planting times.

Much of the agricultural landscape of Massachusetts is dependent on the dairy industry, farming cattle, and aquaculture -- fishing and catching shellfish. Those with access to the coasts, fish and shellfish ought to provide protein during lean months.

Why are we talking about this? Well, if we're stepping into the shoes of a subsistence farmer in the fallout universe, we're going to have to take into account climate and ideal planting times for certain crops. It's not wholly important in terms of things like fic writing, unless you happen to be writing about the life and times of wasteland agriculture, in which case, I hope this is helpful! Again, I am pedantic, and this section is to provide a template when considering and discussing other parts of the game and what their specific diet and agricultural landscapes might look like.

Something to keep in mind when thinking about how farms might function in the Mojave, for instance, or if you're doing worldbuilding for a different part of the US.

Crops in the fallout universe

Now that we're familiar with growing zones and why certain crops are planted and when, we're going to apply some speculative worldbuilding to fallout itself. We will be revisiting growing zones when we talk about other climates, but for the moment, we're going to focus on fallout 4.

Now to preface -- I don't think that the food that is given to us in game is wholly representative of the plants or animals that survived the apocalypse. If some managed to mutant and survive, I'm willing to bet others did. I certainly won't deduct any points from anyone who wants to talk about growing cotton, or farming peaches or cherries, and I won't raise any eyebrows if someone includes things like spices into their wasteland cuisine.

In the 210+ years since the bombs fell, I do not think that the majority of the US is a desolate wasteland, but this post is not going to be my beef with the devs about how brown everything is. This beef is about food in particular. However, for sake of ease, I'm mostly just going to focus on the food that is presented to us in game.

There will be some extrapolation and speculation later, but if I do that for everything, then we'll be here all day, and we've all got things to do.

I would also be remiss to mention that agriculture in the US is old. It predates colonialism. The Native Americans cultivated the land long before any European settlers. They practiced a type of crop growing referred to as Three Sisters planting, which utilized corn, pole beans, and squash -- all things that exist in the agricultural landscape of Fallout as we know it.

Corn

I'm not going to say much about corn because there's not a lot to say about it. We all know what corn is. Fallout's corn is visually similar to wild violet, a hybrid corn.

But I am not going to say Fallout's corn is one such variety or another. In the 210 years since the bombs dropped, I imagine corn varietals have been bred and interbred a thousand times, and it is probably it's own unique strain. It's kind of a moot point. Corn is corn. You can do with yellow corn what you can do with wild violet, and whatever special breeds that make up Fallout's corn.

Corn is the third largest plant-based food source in the world. Despite its importance as a major food in many parts of the world, corn is inferior to other cereals in nutritional value. Its protein is of poor quality, and it is deficient in niacin. Diets in which it predominates often result in pellagra (niacin-deficiency disease). Corn is high in dietary fibre and rich in antioxidants.

You can do a shit ton with corn. It's a staple grain. It would not be incongruous with the fallout setting to have settlers making tortillas, cornbread, polenta, grits, tamales, etc. Corn can also be used to make corn whiskey. The husks can be spun into yarn and woven into garments similar to cotton, which I thought was interesting and also solves the problem of where the hell wastelanders are getting their clothes. Corn can be used as livestock feed, especially in the winter when cattle can't graze. While corn is a staple grain of the US, the east coast has minor corn production compared to places like the midwest. Corn is a staple, but it does not consist of the entire diet of your average wastelander.

Carrots

Not going to say much about carrots either. They're carrots. They grow well in colder soil and tend to have a lot of natural sugars. The carrots we're shown in FO4 seem to be a mutated variety different than the "fresh carrot" consumable in FNV, but there's virtually no difference, so I'm not counting it. Make some carrot cake.

Razorgrain

"This species appears to be quite promising. It's a toothy grain that we may be able to grind in order to replace wheat, which is untenable in the Wasteland. We are uncertain how to increase crop yields, which are very unpredictable. Will continue to study."

Razorgrain is our first unique mutated crop in the fallout setting. It most closely resembles a barley or a rye. Both are a fairly hardy species and can grow all across the continental united states; rye can germinate in cold weather temperatures. It wouldn't be outrageous to assume that razorgrain is similar too or a crossbred variation of both rye and barley. I have decided to base the majority of my research assuming it is a barley variant. Barley is also a major crop on the east coast near the Commonwealth, so that would explain why razorgrain is present in FO4 and not in the other games.

Barley requires a mild winter climate and can grow in growing zones 3-8, so it would be viable in Massachusetts. Barley can be milled into flour and it contains gluten; the gluten content of North American wheat and barley tends to be higher to survive the colder climates, so razorgrain would likely be very glutenous. It is also less susceptible to ergot than rye, but barley can still become infected -- and, I am assuming, razorgrain could as well.

Razorgrain fills the nutritional niche of carbohydrates and can be used to make breads, cakes, pastas, etc. It produces darker breads that have an earthier flavor than milled white flour. There has to be some method of actually milling the grain, though, which is an intensive process that can often be dangerous. Grain can also be used to make malted candy, which is our first option for wastelanders with a sweet tooth. Obviously, razorgrain can also be used to make malt or grain alcohol and is probably the source of all the beer you find littered around the wasteland.

Gourds and melons

Gourds and melons are actually a part of the same family, Cucurbita. The category of 'gourd' covers several different kinds of vegetables, including ornamental fruits that shouldn't be eaten. We aren't going to spend a whole lot of time on this one, simply because canon doesn't tell us that much and there's a lot of wiggle room in terms of interpretation.

FO4's model looks the most similar to a pumpkin, but it could be some other squash varietal from the Cucurbita family, which includes watermelon, honey melon, cucumber, squash, zucchini and pumpkin.

Melons is another pretty broad category. Melons and squash are part of the same family, as mentioned above. If we're going visuals again, the model is likely intended to resemble a watermelon. Watermelons grow best in humid and semi-arid environments between 70 and 8- degrees Fahrenheit. It's not impossible for wastelanders to be growing watermelons, but considering the humidity and frequent rainfall in Massachusetts, the melons would be vulnerable to fungal infections.

There isn't a lot of information on what specifically gourds and melons are in the fallout universe, so you could get away with writing in a pretty wide variety. Personally, I lean a little bit towards melons being a muskmelon variety, like cantaloupe or honeydew. Squash fills in some vitamin requirements for the human diet, and can be canned and stored for winter. It tends to be high in vitamin C and magnesium.

The limit to this one seems to be your imagination. Go crazy.

Mutfruit

This wiki claims that the mutfruit (it has a scientific name apparently, malus maata) is a mutated species of apple and crabapple. There are two different wikis about the mutfruit, both distinct. The first is linked above. The second is linked here -- I got most of my information from this second wiki.

There is a handful of "canon" information we can take from this set of wikis.

Priscilla Penske in Vault 81 is attempting to create foods that have increased resistance to radiation. She mentions the mutfruit would do well, but isn't certain how the hybridization would affect the flavor and texture.[5]

This claim is taken directly from the second wiki, but in comparison, it makes no sense. If the mutfruit tree is a product of mutation, then radiation shouldn't really affect it at all. It's survived and propagated to this point, hasn't it? I am disregarding this claim on the basis of being stupid.

Farmers in at Warwick homestead will comment on the fruit's characteristics, such as tasting sweet and being versatile in recipes.[1][2] The vault dwellers of Vault 81 trade for mutfruit with the outside world, and use it to make special occasion desserts such as pie.[6][7]

If the mutfruit is an apple variant, then it likely has a high sugar content, and it would have to be harvested in the peak of summer or in early fall.

There are fresh apples the be found across the wasteland, implying the existence of apple trees that have been unaffected by the bombs. Personally, I was assuming that the mutfruit was some kind of blackberry, given its appearance as a clustered fruit, or maybe even a type of plum. Regardless, the mutfruit is a fruit, which means that it would preserve well by being jarred or canned, has a high sugar content, and could likely be reduced to form sugar syrups. Like any fruit, it could be used to make alcohol.

Tatos

I want to stop myself from editorializing too much, but goddamn tatos. The crop that makes the least goddamn sense in the fallout universe. The bane of my existence. Let's get into it.

First off, we're given some pretty damning canon facts about tatos:

Tatos are a mutated hybrid of the cross-pollination of the tomato and potato plants.[1] The new consumable looks like a tomato on the outside, but the inside is brown.[2] Commonly cultivated in the Commonwealth, Appalachia and on the Island, its fruit is easy to grow and can keep one from starving, but their taste is described as "disgusting"[2][3][Non-game 1] and resembling "ketchup-flavored cardboard."[1]

According to some old botany texts we found, this appears to be combination of a now extinct plant called a "potato" and another extinct plant called a "tomato." The outside looks like a tomato, but the inside is brown. Tastes as absolutely disgusting as it looks, but will keep you from starving.

Note: This text was written from the perspective of someone who is unaware that both the tomato and the potato are being cultivated elsewhere. The writer also does not mention any sort of DNA test. However, the potato is also found in the Capital Wasteland, and the writer is a scribe in the Brotherhood of Steel, which originated from that area.

Both potatoes and tomatoes are from the nightshade family. They have the same nutrient requirements, and would compete for resources if planted separately but in the same soil. There is a method for planting them together where you splice a tomato stalk onto a potato root, but this is not the same as cross pollination and will not result in what fallout presents as a tato. What will happen is that the roots will grow potatoes and the fruit of the tomato will branch off the stems.

The potato itself is a stem tuber -- high in starch and calorically dense. A stem tuber is an offshoot of the parent plant that will grow beneath the soil as a type of asexual budding reproduction. We all know what a potato is. The tomato is a berry. It's the ovary of a flowering plant -- again, we all know what a tomato is.

I am going to give Fallout a little bit of grace and not comment on how mind bendingly stupid their description of a tato is. The outer skin is a tomato, but the inside is brown and starchy like the potato? I am not going to comment on how it makes little to no biological sense. The starchy tuber is starchy because it's an energy and nutrient storage device. The tomato is the enlarged ovary of a fruit. Why did those things, which are separately very good, combine into one very terrible thing? I don't know. It doesn't make sense. I don't really want to think about it. But these are the facts as they are given to us in game and I suppose I have to live with that. Obligatory "goddamn you todd howard. a pox on your house."

The tato is probably extremely calorically dense. It's specifically mentioned as being easy to grow and it is a better alternative to starving. It's probably grown as a staple crop throughout the planting season. I'm not entirely sure if the tato can produce glycoalkaloids like the potato does (that is, the green sections of the potato that can become poisonous when exposed to light) but if they can, and if stored improperly, it would negatively impact the health of whoever ate them.

I suppose since the taste is so offensive, tatos are better served as a carrier of some other type of food. Fried, mashed, baked -- the purpose of the tato is simply to get calories into your body. Starch can also be turned into alcohol, which I am going to need a lot of after reading the canonical facts of this stupid fucking plant.

 Fallout: The Roleplaying Game Rulebook p.158: "A mutated hybrid of the pre-War tomato and potato plants, with the stem and reddish skin of the former and the brownish flesh of the latter. Tatos provide decent nutrition, but taste disgusting. However, they’re relatively easy to grow and thus are a staple of wasteland agriculture and is an ingredient in a variety of recipes."

fucker

"non farmable" crops

You can't cultivate these plants, but again - we're taking what's given to us and interpreting it extremely literally. There is no reason that these crops could not be domesticated and farmed.

Siltbean

Siltbean is likely a type of bushbean, rather than a pole bean. It's squat and low to the ground. Bush beans require little care or attention and you can pick them when you're ready to harvest them. Historically in North America, beans and corn were grown side by side (though those beans were pole beans using the stalks as support). Bush beans require successive plantings since harvests are early.

There's no good allegory for what type of bean this might be. The potato bean (Apios americana) is native to North America and also produces edible tubers, but there's no reason this couldn't be just some other type of bean. No beans that I could find had red/orange pods.

Beans are a good source of both proteins and carbohydrates, and another crop that can store well for the winter.

Tarberry

Tarberry is a little iffy, considering it is farmed by the ghouls at The Slog, but they're the only farm shown capable (or willing?) to farm the berries. Originally, I had assumed that tarberries were a type of mutated cranberry, and I thought the wiki was supporting me in that claim by saying this:

Tarberries are small, dusty orange berries of the tarberry plant. It is a water-grown crop similar to cranberries.

But cranberries themselves are also canon in the world of Fallout. So who knows! There's no canon information presented on the tarberry's characteristics, so it can be treated the same as any other fruit or berry.

Fungus variants

Glowing fungus: Glowing fungus is one of the few real world equivalents we have. It is a Japanese mushroom called Enoki. It is also farmable as shown in FNV at Hell's Motel.

Brain fungus: This is harvestable, but there aren't any "crops" shown as we would consider them. Considering it's benefits as a mentat replacement, then it's likely that there could be a dedicated space for growing it.

Food and Plants mentioned in the text

Potato

Thank god almighty, potatoes are canon in the universe of Fallout. Fresh potatoes are found as consumables in FO3 and FNV but potatoes are also mentioned in the text of FO4:

Mentioned in dialogue -- {Angry} Shut up Jake. If I hear anything out of either of you, you'll both be peeling potatoes for the next year.

I'm taking this as word of god. Potatoes are canon and I don't care what anyone says.

Tomato

Tomatoes are mentioned in the text, but are never actually seen in game. The only hint that this plant survived extinction is this excerpt from the wiki.

Note: As fresh tomatoes and potatoes are seen in the Mojave Wasteland as of 2281, with the potato seen in the Capital Wasteland as of 2277, the claim of either's extinction by 2287 in the Commonwealth Plant Database could be taken to mean local extinction in east coast regions, as opposed to global extinction. This entry may also just be in error.

There's potential for leeway here, but take it as you will!

Fresh apple

We discussed this back up in the mutfruit section of the essay, but the existence of fresh apples implies the existence of non mutated apple trees. They're found in both FO3 and FNV as a consumable item, so the apple tress have either proliferated across the continental united states, or multiple varieties survived the bombs.

Fresh pear

See above. Pears are also naturally high in pectin, which makes them useful for making jams and preserves.

Pinto beans

Pinto beans are a consumable in FNV and is another W in the bean category of the agricultural landscape.

Jalepeno

Look, I'm picking out this one specifically because I need to believe that other spices and peppers exist in the world. Where would we be without her? Nowhere good.

Raw sap

I am going to say that sap collecting is probably where most of the sugars and sweeteners in the wasteland come from. It's relatively easy to tap trees and collect sap, and it only takes a few hours to reduce the sap down into useable syrup.

Wild Blackberry, Lime, Cranberries, as well as Watermelon as being distinct from simply 'melon' are all mentioned in the text. The list of fruits mentioned or found in the games can be found here.

Animal husbandry

Fallout doesn't give us a lot of canonical information on the animal side of farming. The biggest real world agricultural export of Massachusetts is dairy and cattle farming. Chickens are canon in the worldbuilding of fallout as of Far Harbor, but canon feels both restrictive and extremely loose with regards to what animals can be cared for and how.

We aren't going to spend a whole lot of time on this one, only because the information is pretty limited.

Brahmin

There are plenty of brahmin found throughout the landscape of the wasteland. We most commonly see them as either livestock or beasts of burden. Things like milk, cheese, and other dairy products would be common if a farm has access to dairy cows. The investment to raise cows would be enormous for a subsistence farmer. Dairy cows would likely be kept for a number of years, where steers would be raised 12 to 24 months before being slaughtered; they'd likely be grass fed in the summer and corn or grain fed in the winter. Leather and beef would be products, of course, and things like soap and candles can be made from the beef tallow.

Chickens

Chickens are largely easy to keep and care for, producing eggs and necessary proteins. Chickens can provide niacin, filling in the nutritional gap that would be left by a heavy corn based diet. The investment for keeping chickens is lower than raising brahmin, but so is the payoff.

Bighorners

Bighorners are mutated bighorn sheep native to the American Southwest.[1] Humans have since domesticated them for their horns, meat, milk, and hides,[2][3]

Granted, bighorners are only seen in FNV, but I don't think there's any reason they couldn't have migrated east. In the text, it says they're kept for meat and milk, but there's no reason that they shouldn't provide a fleece as well. In the colder climate of Massachusetts, they would find value in wool, which can keep its warmth even when wet. They may be sparse across the commonwealth, but that would make wool and fleece all that much more valuable.

Fish

Yeah, I know. Technically we can't fish in Fallout (and depending on the game you play, you might not even know what a fish is). But aquaculture is huge in Boston, and with access to the coasts, it's completely fair to say that fish, shellfish, and hydroponics is a completely viable source of food in the wasteland. We see dead fish washed up on shore all the time, along with whatever the hell those shark things are. There should be fisheries and fishing towns all along the coasts.

New Vegas and Fallout 3

Consulting our growing zone chart, we can see that much of the southwest sits between 7b to 8b. The winters in the southwest are fairly mild, and while you can get seeds in the ground sooner, the majority of the battle is going to be finding a reliable water source.

The farming we see in New Vegas has one distinct notable inclusion: the NCR sharecropper farm.

The sharecroppers are growing a number of crops, including maize, tobacco, pinto beans, and honey mesquite. Corn can handle hot, arid weather, it's just not commercially grown out west. Barley can also handle hot, arid climates, and razorgrain would be suitable for the western front -- maybe we can assume it's made it's way that far west and is being cultivated alongside corn.

Most of the plants we see in FNV aren't the type we would see typically domesticated for agricultural use, but that doesn't mean people haven't adapted to their surroundings. It makes a lot of sense for locals to have domesticated local plants like prickly pear and banana yucca. There are a number of fresh produce items to be found as consumables, alongside local fruits the local fruits.

Heat-loving plants are best suited for summer production in desert climates. The plant families that fit into the heat-loving category are nightshade or Solanaceae (tomatoes, peppers, eggplant) and squash or Cucurbitaceae (cucumbers, melons, summer and winter squash). Corn and beans also perform best in hot climates.

Most plants CAN handle the heat and climate of the southwest, the issue is just finding a reliable source of water. Somewhere close to Lake Mead or the banks of the Virgin River would be prime real estate for farming, since irrigation could be accomplished without the use of pumps, like the sharecroppers use.

If we look back at the history of agriculture, it's developed along established waterways in almost every ancient civilization because that's what's easiest. There should be thriving communities surrounding the lakes and rivers in the southwest.

Comparatively, DC was formerly a swamp. It's hot and humid in the summer, though the winters are fairly mild. It wouldn't be a stretch to say that farming practices in the Commonwealth don't differ all that much from farming in the Capital Wasteland -- you could even posit that food from the Capital is of better quality ever since the successful activation of Project Purity. Fresh and unirradiated food was growing there before, so it's entirely likely that even more is growing now. YMMV!

Other consumables

We would be here all damn day if I did research onto every single consumable item available across all three games, so this mostly just because I'm covering my bases.

I am going to say that sap collecting is probably where most of the sugars and sweeteners in the wasteland come from. It's relatively easy to tap trees and collect sap, and it only takes a few hours to reduce the sap down into useable syrup.

Look, I'm picking out this one specifically because I need to believe that other spices and peppers exist in the world. Where would we be without her? Nowhere good.

Pre War food

Most shelf-stable foods are safe indefinitely. In fact, canned goods will last for years, as long as the can itself is in good condition (no rust, dents, or swelling). Packaged foods (cereal, pasta, cookies) will be safe past the ‘best by’ date, although they may eventually become stale or develop an off flavor. 

The risk with improperly canned good, or damaged canned goods, is botulism. Botulism will straight up kill you. You don't even have to consume that much of it; just a little bit will leave you dead in days. As desperate as I might be for a meal, I'm not going to risk dying because that can of two hundred year old peaches looks really tasty.

If properly sealed and in a dry, ideal environment, I... guess things like cereal and instant food could be okay? But again, with access to fresh grain, sugars, and yes, even potatoes and pasta, why would you want to risk eating InstaMash that's been around since before your great grandmother.

Pre War drinks

Sigh. Okay.

Unless stored extremely, extremely well, most bottled drinks aren't going to last much longer than 9 months. A year, if you're lucky. Exposure to sunlight and improper storage will break down the contents -- the best bottles are brown, then green. Clear glass is the worst because it does nothing to protect the liquid inside.

All the Nuka Cola you find throughout the world is flat, nasty, and will probably make you sick. I don't think that really needs to be pointed out, but there we go. I suppose the soda could probably be reduced to form sugar syrups, but with access to sap syrup and grain malt, I'm not sure why you would be desperate enough to do that.

So what does food look like in Fallout?

If there's one thing I know about humans, it's that humans like to eat. Food is culture, as much as culture and community is built around food. Good food and access to it is paramount to human happiness. All this to say is that food in fallout is whatever you want it to look like.

I can extrapolate and theorize all day long based on what Fallout tells us definitively, but I'm not going to tell you what the culinary landscape in the wasteland looks like. The only point that I will stress is that humans are really, really good at making things appetizing.

The fandom is already so creative when it comes to developing their idea of what food means in the wasteland. It's what's directly inspired me to write up this stupid, long ass post about farming and agriculture.

Obviously this is not a comprehensive list of all the base ingredients you can find in Fallout. I picked the ones I did because of the potential for consistent farming. Wastelanders have had two centuries to develop agricultural practices based around subsistence farming. I am not a subsistence farmer, and I have no idea how wasteland cottagecore would work at the heart of it. Running a farm is extremely labor intensive, and so much of your investment has to be immediately recouped in the form of eating what you harvest.

What a farm is likely to look like will start in the early spring when the ground begins to thaw, and a farmer can plant his cold resistant crops, like green vegetables and razorgrain. Potatos, carrots, and tatos will also weather the spring chill. When it starts to warm up, the more delicate plants like corn, beans, and squash or melons will get planted and tended to.

If your family is lucky enough to have a greenhouse, you can keep crops growing all through the winter and have a surplus for trade and barter, or just to preserve and refill the pantries.

A lot of the investment will have to be immediately recouped. Eggs from the chickens can't be preserved, obviously, but there will be meat from hunted animals, milk from the brahmin, probably an early harvest from the beans and tatos, and whatever else is in the pantry from the previous harvest.

Some of it will be canned or preserved in the forms of jams or jellies (just remember what I said about botulism). Meat from animals that get hunted can be smoked or otherwise preserved. Grain can be milled into flour or eaten whole and unshelled. Even the corn silk can be woven into clothes for the summer.

There really is no limit to what can be done in the end. While a lot of this information was taken from what we're given in the text, there's no rule that says you have to follow it word for word. If you believe something exists out there, then write it! We're all just making shit up as we go along anyway. If you need permission, then here it is. You can do whatever you want. Make up recipes! Go insane. Follow whatever your little foodie heart desires.

[notmorbid]

the verifiers.

dialogue prompts from the verifiers by jane pek.

you look like someone who makes lists for everything.

i'd like to hear your opinion before i tell you mine.

you're too nice for our family.

you act like you don't know me at all.

how strange that i used to worship ____.

we're not friends. we just pretend.

it's not a proper family gathering until everyone is upset.

killed anyone lately?

that's what i aim for: to be just a little less shitty than people expect me to be.

i feel sort of sleazy.

you're right. i haven't been fully honest with you.

i'm still figuring things out. what they might mean.

between deceiving and being deceived, i prefer the second option.

it always surprises me how surprising death is, when it's the one thing that's inevitable.

you don't know shit. don't try to pretend you do.

not all mistakes can be fixed.

neither admit nor deny. that's a very lawyerly approach.

take it, please. i'll feel better.

believing something for its convenience is at best negligence, and at worst culpability.

i don't trust anyone, except you.

how do you know what i like to read?

do you want me to help you take a picture?

it looks like your party's a success.

you're even sneakier than i thought.

i hate being told what to do.

guilt is the currency that our family traffics in.

i feel like i could ask you about anything, and you'd have something interesting to say.

walk it off. nothing hurt, right?

you've never known any of us.

well? aren't you going to say anything?

you never do anything for me.

don't tell me what i can and can't be like.

you don't deserve it. the way ____ loves you.

writers always talk about their characters like they're real.

let's pretend we're tourists.

i've been all fizzy with happiness, ever since we met.

you call it like it is.

i never meant to hurt you.

you can't always pick your weapons in your duels.

it's too late to change anything.

what if we take turns? we can answer each other's questions.

i know the truth is right there, but i can't see it.

here i am, crazy as ever.

all those little lies just make the truth feel worse.

i didn't mean anything by it. i just wanted it all to go away.

i love you, you little brat.

if you ever went away, there would be a hole in my world.

you millennials are unbelievable. all laziness and instant gratification.

i see you couldn't wait to get into more unnecessary danger.

is that a threat or a warning?

if i tell you, i'll have to get rid of you.

this is bigger than you know.

if you go any deeper, forget about getting out.

is there anywhere to eat in this wasteland of a neighborhood?

why do i feel like i've missed something?

did the english major make you such an annoying pedant, or were you always that way?

what's the point of knowing, if you don't do anything about it?

i always knew you were a romantic.

try to grow some balls.

you love me. i'm sure you do.

you become something, if you act that way for long enough.

is a digression into backstory really necessary?

can we get to the action?

you can be very persuasive.

we told each other everything.

you only ask to hang out when you want something from me.

i want someone like you. who isn't you.

are you having a quarter life crisis?

no matter what, you'll be okay. i'll make sure of it.

i'm having a bodysnatcher moment.

this would make a fantastic setting for a murder mystery.

people are constantly mistaking me for someone else.

i wish more people could think like you.

still trying to save the world?

i want the best for you. i always have.

damn, you're ruthless.

maybe i still don't know you at all.

you have to tell me the rest of it.

people tend to hear what they want to hear.

who do you think i want you to be?

[afrowrites]

~What A Difference a Day Makes~

High noon, blistering heat scattered across the wastelands. Rolling waves of heat come off of the scared man. His weathered coat and hat absorbs the warmth of the sun. But a man like him doesn’t mind it. He clings to its warmth like he clings to radiation it’s familiar and after 200 years of life that’s the first thing that gets him going. As he traverses the weathered ground and picks from the weathered weeds he’s home and home is wherever he lays his hat. And today his hat lands right at your home.

Word Count: 3,102

Warnings: Hostages, Explosions.

Tags: The Ghoul/Black Plus-Sized Reader, Fluff, Domesticity, Banter, Slowburn(Kind of, not really)

Read on Ao3

The Ghoul enters an old dilapidated town,“Well, well, what do we have here?” 

 He trips and before he can figure out what it is that he tripped on he hears music, a song from the past. “What a difference a day makes”  

The Ghoul pauses for a moment, letting the song wash over him. He hums softly to himself before his features fall back into the familiar sardonic smirk. “Well, ain't that just a day late and a dollar short.”

Suddenly the record stops then it rewinds, a haunting and demonic sound ringing through the speakers from that turntable. It explodes and sends him hurling towards some old rickety building. 

He slowly gets back up, rubbing the back of his head. His expression changes from amusement to annoyance. “Well, ain't that just a real humdinger. What's a ghoul gotta do to get some peace and quiet around here?”

He suddenly feels the barrel of a gun at the back of his head "Now I don't know who you are and what your doing here but you have about three seconds before I blow your head to smithereens"

He turned slowly to see a beautiful brown figure, she had luscious full lips that were twisted in a scowl, a sharp stare that could cut glass, and a body that would make any man fall to his knees. Which is what our cowboy wants to do so bad but he also doesn’t want to get shot. 

“Well, ain't you a proper little ray of sunshine, darlin'? If you want to know who I am, just call me The Ghoul. As for what I'm doing here, well, sometimes a fella jus' needs a little excitement, know what I mean?”

"And what pray tell would that be?" you looked at him, gun nudging his forehead.

“What do I want? How ‘bout a damn drink and a decent meal. Maybe even a little bit of friendly conversation that doesn't involve pointing a gun at my head?” The Ghoul's tone is cool and calm, unruffled by the threat of violence.

You take his bag from him and motion him to hand over his weapons, after all your modified grenade launcher is much scarier then some dinky pistols, after collecting the items you bind his hands with rope tightly and make you decent to your base of operations. 

"Alright if food and good company is what you seek then I guess you can follow me, but don't think you can escape or I'll make sure you face my music."

All while you're talking he for some reason can’t stop staring at your lips, The Ghoul raises an eyebrow, his smirk turning into a wry smile. 

“Well, looks like I'm just a damn dog on a leash now. But, if that's what it takes for a little vittles and banter, I guess I can't complain. Lead the way, darlin'. I'll try not to bite.”  He shows you a grinning smile. 

It takes half a day's journey to get to a dilapidated house on the outskirts of the shady sands. We walk in and it smells of mildew and dust.

 "Welcome to my abode, rough skin." I tie him securely to a sturdy post of the house. He has enough room to sit at the dinner table without causing too much of a fuss.

The Ghoul glances around the dilapidated house, taking in the dusty surroundings. He doesn't hide his surprise, but masks his discomfort with sardonic wit. 

“Well, ain't this just the picture of comfort and luxury. Mildewed walls, a chair that's seen better days, and the distinct smell of desperation. It's like a damn holiday.”

"I'm sorry this house is 250 years old and has survived two nukes safe to say I think I'm doing just fine, besides it's not like you know any better.” 

The Ghoul laughs, a raspy, guttural sound. 

“Two nukes, you say? Well, now we're talkin'. But hey, maybe I just prefer the finer things in life, like a decent roof over my head and a bed that doesn't squeak louder than a dying Radstag. But who am I to complain? After all, I'm sittin' at the table of a bonafide wasteland celebrity. And the company ain't half bad, either.”

"You're funny, what's your name?" I squint and I lean in closer to his face.

The Ghoul gives a crooked grin, revealing yellowed, pointed teeth. “They call me The Ghoul, sweetcheeks. But you can call me whatever you damn well please. Just don't expect me to be all sunshine and butterflies every damn minute.”

“You idiot I already knew that,” You chuckle and hit his arm playfully, “But you do look awfully familiar, I can't quite put my nose to it but I'm sure I'll figure it out soon enough"

The Ghoul's lip curls into a smirk as he leans in close. “Well, darlin' if you recognize this old mug of mine, then you must be one hell of a fan, considering how much more handsome I used to be.”

He takes a moment to relish in this compliment before his sarcasm returns. “Now, are we gonna talk about my good looks all night, or are ya gonna get a fella somethin' to eat?”

"pushy, much" I rummage through my cabinets to open my secret stash of food behind my fake out cabinets 

"Alright I have some cram and mac'n cheese and drum roll please"

The Ghoul's eyes light up at the sight of the canned meals, He quickly returns to his usual sarcasm. 

“Well, hot damn! Look at you, pullin’ out the good stuff. I reckon I’ll take a bowl of that there “mac and cheese” you mentioned. Gotta tell you, darlin’, nothing says fine dining like canned crap.”

"You didn't even let me tell you what was for dessert, hmph." In your pouty frustration, he finds it endearing which is awfully close as he remembers that one you have him tied up in your hide-away, and two he barely even knows who you are. 

The Ghoul chuckles, enjoying this brief interaction with someone who isn't actively trying to kill him. 

“Desert, you say? Well, now you have my full attention. Let's hear it, darlin'. What's the sweet treat you're hiding in that stash of yours?”  

"Fancy lads snack cakes, they are actually good which worries me because that means they put all sorts of chemical crap in here. But beggars can't be choosers can they?"

The Ghoul's eyes light up again, and he almost seems enthusiastic. 

“Well, now we're talkin'! Fancy lads snack cakes, huh? Sounds like a piece of pre-war heaven. Hell, I've tasted dog food that was better than some of the slop I've come across in the Wasteland. But, you're right, darlin'. When you're out here scavenging for scraps, you gotta take what you can get.”

"I'll heat this stuff up then." You turn away blushing,and you honestly don’t know why?

The Ghoul gives you a sly smile, noticing your flushed cheeks, and nervous nature. 

“Well, ain't that a sight for sore eyes. Here I am, tied to a chair and at your mercy, and you're the one gettin' all flustered. Careful now, darlin'. If you keep givin' me these heated stares, a fella might start getting some ideas.”

"Now what kind of girl do you take me for?" You raise my brow and smirk.

The Ghoul's eyes twinkle mischievously as he looks you up and down. 

“Well, darlin', let's see. You're a proper little badass, ain't ya? Tying me up, feedin’ me grub, givin’ me the eye. I reckon you're the kind of girl who knows how to hold her own in this here Wasteland, and if provoked, could knock a fella flat on his ass with just the force of your glare. Hell, I'd say you're the kind of girl who could kick my ass while lookin’ damn fine doin’ it.”

"That's real cute but flattery will not get you untied." I get closer to whisper in his ear "Mister~"

The Ghoul chuckles, the hairs that would be  on the back of his neck rising at your touch. “Well, ain't you a sly one? Look darlin', I'll gladly sing your praises from here to the Grand Canyon. But you're right, there ain't a compliment in the world that could charm these ropes off me. And don't get me wrong, I ain't complainin'. A pretty lady, good food, and I'm tied down at her mercy? Sounds like a hell of a good time to me.”

"Your just in luck because the food is ready." You take the macaroni and cram off the fire and plate it on the mis-matched plates and cutlery.

The Ghoul's eyes light up as the food hits the table. Well, isn't this a sight for sore eyes? You ain't pullin' any punches, darlin'. Canned mac and cheese and cram. It's like a damn feast for a Wasteland king. I appreciate the effort, darlin'. You've got me hooked. He grins, his stomach rumbling in anticipation.

"You really better be glad I'm wasting my food on you, if I didn't have other food drops and suppliers you'd be starving."

The Ghoul gives a hearty chuckle, his sharp teeth glinting in the light. “Oh, darling, I'm aware. Believe me, I don't take your generosity lightly. But hey, I'd say I make up for it with my sparkling personality. He winks playfully. If you wanted to leave me hungry, you would have done so already. So, why feed me? You gotta be expectin' somethin' in return.”

"Honestly I don't know why I'm helping you, you just feel familiar to me and I don't know why. It's like in my mind I know who you are. But I don't know I might just be talking out of my ass."

The Ghoul's grin falters for a moment, his thoughts racing. He can see the confusion and memory in your eyes. “Ah, familiar, eh? Well, I won't lie, darlin'. I've been around these parts for a damn long time and have met more than my share of fascinating folks. It could be I've got a face that sticks in the mind. But, who knows? Maybe it's just a coincidence. The Wasteland is a mighty big place.”

You abruptly pause and think for a moment, “Would you want to watch a movie with me?"

The Ghoul's eyebrow arches in surprise and amazement. “Now, that's a damn fine suggestion. It ain't often a ghoul gets an invitation to watch the latest Hollywood flick. But, if you're askin', I'd love to join you. As long as it's a proper action movie, none of that romantic crap. I wanna see things blow up and people kick ass, you know what I mean?”

You laugh at his response, gritty and rough, “"Oh yeah you can watch my favorites with me. I only really have a cowboy cooper so I hope you don't mind." You give him a sheepish smile.

The Ghoul's expression grows intrigued. “Cowboy Cooper, eh? Sounds like the kind of movie fit for a true Wasteland outlaw. As long as it's got that proper Wild West charm, I'm in. You better believe I'm ready to sit back and enjoy the show. Let the explosions and bullets fly, darlin'. Hell, it might even make me forget about my current predicament.”

"You're such an old man."  You chuckle to myself as I turn on the movie.

The Ghoul lets out a low chuckle, a smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well now, aren't you the little firecracker? I ain't called old man in years. But hey, if it gets me a front row seat to this flick, I'll wear that label proudly. Now, let's get this show goin'. Nothing like a proper Western to get a ghoul's blood pumpin'”

You watch the movie together on your dilapidated couch on a tv that somehow works. "Now I know who you remind me of."

The Ghoul nods, his eyes flicking between the movie and you. He can tell you’ve got something on your mind. “Go on, darlin’. I could use a good mystery unraveled. Who do I remind you of?”

You make this somewhat off connection in your mind. "Cowboy Cooper, your voices are somewhat similar and you both have the same teeth which is shocking considering you're a ghoul."

The Ghoul's expression is unreadable for a moment as he processes your statement. Then, a slow, sardonic smile spreads across his face. 

“Well, now, isn't that something. Cowboy Cooper, huh? Guess it makes sense, given this ole’ rugged good looks. I'll take that as a compliment, darlin’. As for the teeth…well, I guess you could say life's been rough on them. But it just gives me that extra charm, don't you think?”

"I guess." you chuckle to yourself, as I start to rest your head on the ghouls shoulder.

The Ghoul's smirk softens slightly as he feels you rest your head on his shoulder. He can't help but let out a low chuckle, the sound rumbling deep in his chest.

“Well, ain't you somethin'? Here I am, all tied up and helpless, but somehow I end up playin’ the role of your personal pillow.”

You nuzzle into him, “Well you are comfier than you look.” You smile to yourself, this is honestly the first time you’ve felt anyones touch in a long time.

The Ghoul's smirk widens into a wolfish grin. He leans against the ropes, allowing you to use him as your makeshift pillow. “Well, darlin', if I knew I’d end up as the Wasteland’s next hottest pillow, I would have tied myself up years ago. But I gotta admit, you’re onto something. Maybe it’s these rugged good looks that make it so comfy. So, is this my new job? Just stayin’ put so you can rest your pretty little head on my shoulder?” 

"Whatever you say cowboy," you  yawn and stretch off of him. "Hey I don't know if you ghouls need to sleep but I will be doing that upstairs. i'll even tie you to my bed so I can sleep easier"

The Ghoul can’t help but chuckle at your bold invitation. He gives you a sly look, his eyes gleaming in the dim light.

“Well now, ain't you the forward one? I haven't slept in years, so you don't gotta worry about me gettin’ into mischief while you catch your rest. As for the whole "tying me up to your bed" shenanigans, well, I won't say I'm opposed to the idea.”

You chuckle and give him a sleepy smile. "I bet you aren't, come on cowboy" As you lead him upstairs.

With a low chuckle, the Ghoul follows you up the stairs, his steps slightly hindered by the ropes. Despite his predicament, he can’t help but feel a bit excited at the prospect of spending the night in your bed. “Well, darlin', if you're offerin', who am I to refuse? Just don’t hog all the covers, alright?”

"Ah ah take off your shoes" You grin with your hand wide open motioning him to give them to you.

The Ghoul pauses for a moment, confusion flickering across his face. “My shoes? Look, darlin’, I ain’t one to question a lady, but this seems like a bit much. If I take my shoes off, then the next thing I know, you’re gonna be demanding I sleep naked and give up my guns.”

"That's not a bad idea, hand em over cowpoke" You knew he had extra weapons you were honestly confused as to why he hadn’t tried anything.

The Ghoul raises an eyebrow at your suggestion, but can’t help but chuckle, clearly amused. 

“Oh now, darlin’. Don’t get me wrong. I’m a wild one, sure, but takin’ off my shoes and sleeping naked? You keep making me an offer like that and I’m gonna start thinking you’ve got plans for me beyond just restin’. Maybe I oughta keep my weapons within reach, just in case.”

"Relax if you think I'm thinking about doing anything of that nature you're surely mistaken" this next part you say under your breath "I've never even done that." 

The Ghoul quirks an eyebrow at your muttered words. “Now wait now, hold up. That sounded like a mighty important confession you just let slip there. Are you tellin' me that you’ve never done any of that?” His eyes rake over you for a moment as a slow, wicked grin spreads across his face. “Seems like some fellas in this world are missing out on a good time.”

"Oh be quiet" you throw a pillow at his face and you take his weapon and throw it at the far side of the room. "And if you don't mind I'll be sleeping with my gun, is that ok?”

The Ghoul catches the pillow with a smirk, setting it aside. He watches as you move his weapons away, a flicker of amusement in his eyes. “Oh trust me, darlin’, I’m perfectly fine with a lady keepin’ her weapon close. In fact, I’d say it’s a mighty smart move, even when you’re sharin’ a bed with a fella like me. Can’t be too careful in this Wasteland.”

"Hmmm you're too eager and I don't like that, but I'll keep you around. I need a guard dog after all" You smile cheekily at him.

The Ghoul's smirk turns into a wolfish grin, revealing a hint of sharp teeth in the dim light. Your wink doesn’t go unnoticed, and he can’t help but appreciate your boldness. “Oh darlin’, you’re playin’ a dangerous game. Keep givin’ me those looks and making comments like that, and you just might find yourself tangled up in somethin’ more than just bedsheets.”

You roll my eyes "goodnight Cowboy"

The Ghoul watches you roll your eyes, a smirk plastered across his face. He can’t help but laugh as you bid him goodnight, his deep chuckle filling the air.

“Alright there, darlin’. Goodnight~” With a wink, he settles down on the bed, his gaze never leaving you. 

[akirenhell]

"I am ghoulified...Inside youuuu~"

Soooo, even though I haven't played any of the games, the Fallout brainrot got me tight enough to binge the TV show AND learn some of the lore, cause HOLY SHIT, the attention to detail they put into it is impressive.

As some of you have probably seen, I did show some sneak peeks of this guy a few reblogs ago, but now here he is in full color!

Sooo, this is Mucky, a rather special ghoul due to the fact his hair has actually survived the massive doses of radioation he has gained and his incredibly slimy and filthy skin, which always looks like its melting down from intense heat. He's a bit of a celebrity in the wastelands, strolling around with his band looking for a good place to perform his music (which is the equivalent of 90s industrial rock, mind you).

Personality wise, he's pretty crass and cocky, but if you hit his right points, he can get pretty shy and flustered. Regardless, he's not exactly an asshole, for he can be pretty polite at times despite how violent his music can be.

(Backstory and fun facts under read more)

Before the Great War, Mucky's name used to be Michael (something he has long forgotten about). He was considered an outcast due to his rather radical way of thinking and not following the "American norms" of what's good and not, especially when it comes to music, one of his few favorite pasttimes and the only way he had to fully express himself.

However, ironically enough, music was also the thing that almost lead him to his doom. One day, the once human called Michael actually managed to release an album of his own music, and even though it wasn't a massive hit, it was very well beloved by specific groups of people, which were those that were unsatisfied with society.

Due to the fact his music could be considered "commie propaganda", Michael was almost murdered for this by none other than the Enclace. Yet oddly enough, what saved Mucky was the same thing that doomed humanity, for his failed assasination attempt happened the day the bombs fell.

Despite getting severely burnt and hit with a massive dose of radiation for him to turn into a ghoul, Michael survived the attack by hiding in a sewer, where something strange happened. Call it whatever kind of luck you want, but due to the radiation and his slowly melting skin, his body managed to mutate with the sewer waters, thus turning him into a foul smelling, slimy ghoul made of muck.

Hence his new name: Mucky. Promptly given by those who considered him a freak of nature (mostly humans who hate ghouls, obviously).

The rest of the years after the war remain fuzzy, but eventually, Mucky, alongsides a group of ghouls that found comfort in his music, made their way towards Necropolis, the city of the dead; where the filth ghoul settled down and, with an uncertain future but a strange yet newfound liberty, he started to work in his new albums to share with the rest of the wastelands. Be it with humans, ghouls, super mutants, it doesn't matter; for music is one of the reasons why he managed to remain sane even to this day.

And maybe the real reason why he hasn't gone feral yet.

Post-Fallout 1, Mucky obviously left Necropolis due to the Master's invasion on the city. Thankfully, he didn't leave alone, for two super mutants actually joined him as bandmates thanks to his mercy.

And so begins his life as a rockstar in the wastelands.

Facts:

-Mucky has a little cat companion he named Scatticus, which he found in an abandone vault where they ran cruel experiments involving both animals and humans, which Scatticus is the only that remains. The cat, oddly enough, can talk due to a device that is linked both with his collar and his brain, and he's a sassy little bastard.

-Mucky has a love-hate relationship with old, 50s music, which really was another reason why many considered him a weirdo in pre-war times.

-Due to an incredibly strange chance of luck (and possibly genes), Mucky is one of the rare exceptions in which a ghoul could become a super mutant. While exploring a vault to look for equipment he could use in his instruments, the ghoul got ambushed by a pack of irradiated wolves that gave him chase, with one of them alongsides him falling into a vat that was full of an alternate, very rare version of the Forced Evolutionary Virus. From it came crawling away a large, filth covered wolf, the complete contrary of the scrawny ghoul.

Luckily, if you can even say that, once he grew exhausted enough, Mucky reverted back to his ghoul form. However, there is still the chance he can revert back to that hellhound, especially if there's massive amounts of radiation neraby...

-Mucky is originally from Ohio, but due to the fact he spent pretty much of the time out in the open after the war "touring", that gave him a great amount of knowledge regarding the wastelands and the commonwealths he could get in. If you need a trip somewhere, he will gladly take you there. Though, he might ask for something in return...

-Mucky can be pretty skilled with technology, even using pieces of weapons as ways he can improve the sound of his instruments when playing.

-He's a huge menace to both the Enclace and the BoS, especially with the fact his skin and foul stench can corrode metals. Yes, even the one from a power armor.

That's as much as I can name about him, but if you have any questions about Mucky, please ask! I'm pretty new into Fallout, so if I have made any mistakes or it's there anything I could change, please do let me know, cause really, I mostly made this OC for fun.

[the-fluff-piece]

Hello there! I saw your Milestone Event and it sounds super cool! Here is my requested prompt:

I had a strange dream, heartwarming, Law, and we end up somewhere surreal like Salvador Dali’s paintings

I cannot wait to see/read what you come up with! Your writing is phenomenal! :)

This is part of my follower milestone event

Hello dear Han,

Thank you for your kind words and weird prompt 🥺

Here is

Law destroys reality (lovingly)

Weird fluff. I couldn't incorporate the heartwarming part properly, but hey, aren't surreal elephants heartwarming in themselves?

Law had been really strange these past days. Stranger than usual.

He looks more exhausted, he is looking around like he's getting stalked and he's been sitting on deck much more than usual, just staring at the water.

He has his moods, but this is getting unsettling.

"Law, what's up?" You ask him sitting down beside him.

"Nothing"

"Law."

"Y/n."

You stare at him with your "I am your fucking girlfriend, tell me or I'll cut you" - look.

He sighs.

"I dreamed that my power is getting out of hand and I open a portal to a hell dimension instead of creating a room" he answers, dead serious.

"Ah." You try to process this.

"Now I am afraid of using it again. But I would have to. But what if everyone gets sucked into hell? I can't protect you anymore and...." his eyes get wet.

You stroke his back to comfort him. He looks at the planks, depressed.

"It was just a dream. I know they seem real often enough, but they're not. Your devil power may be weird, but not that weird. It's a well know power, isn't it? Have you ever heard of the ope ope no mi doing that?"

He looks at his hands, turns them around. His long, nimble fingers curl. He nods, reassured.

"You're right, I am being silly" he says with a little smile. "How would that be even possible? I guess mugiwara-ya is getting to me."

He gives you a little kiss and smiles for the first time in days.

"Room!" He says.

A swirl appears in his hand and engulfs the two of you in a blue light. You always feel safe in his room, where he has absolute control.

He does this thing where he moves you closer to him with his power and he gives you a deep, loving kiss. You look into his eyes and notices something strange around you, you break away.

You look around - the blue orb is more solid than normal. You cannot see the deck or the polar tang anymore.

Law looks at you lovingly: "I love you, I knew you could calm me down" he wants to touch your forehead with his, but you push his face away with a finger.

"Law, your room is weird"

He looks surprised, seeing the impenetrable blue wall around you, creasing his brow.

He drops the room.

The both of you are sitting in a desert now. The sky is red and empty, the ground seems like an endless plane of wasteland. A deep scream, but far away, can be heard. You look around and see creatures with impossibly long and thin legs stalking over the plane. The legs, hundreds of meter long sticks, end in the body of massive elephants that seem to carry some kind of construct on their back.

You feel Law grab your hand.

"Fuck, it's like I dreamed! Almost." His eyes are wide with terror.

He looks at you. You look at him. His expression seems to relax.

"At least I am not alone. If I have to get stranded in hell with someone, at least it's you." He kisses your hand.

"I'm sorry for dragging you in here, though" he meekly ads.

The elephants in the distance scream and move on their storck legs over the plane.

"Law, try again"

He looks at his hand like it was the atom bomb.

"I am not sure...in my dream, there were strange chimeras being tortured in a dark hell by impossible creatures. I don't want to go there." He looks around, already searching for a solution.

"We need shelter. Food."

"Well, the thing on the elephant looks like a house...?" You point out, peering at the pagoda-like structure in the creatures back.

"Our first house!" Law says, already heading for the creatures.

"Watch out, those clocks look slippery" you point out.

"Let's just climb that...uhm...ladder?" He guesses, pointing at another impossibly thin construct swaying slowly in front of the blood red sky.

--------

Much later. Or not that much?

Law and you set foot on the polar tang's deck again after what feels like an eternity. You're exhausted and take the trusty laser canon off your back and set it on the ground with a thud. Law is just behind you, wearing his new slick, black bodysuit. He looks so hot in the tight, dark fabric.

Bepo stares at you, already crying.

"EVERYONE THEY'RE BACK! THEY'RE HERE!" he screams and soon, the sunny deck is filled with familiar faces/ masks.

"How long have we been gone?" Law asks, shoving a glowing stick in his mouth, smoking. He's taken up some habits.

"It's been two days!!! And what the heck is that?" Bepo points at the blue box you both came out of. It was made of painted wood and the words "Police phone".

"I'll let him explain. He likes talking. I am going to get something normal to eat." He seems exasperated and trots off to the kitchen, ignoring his adoring crew asking pesky questions.

The doctor emerges from his blue box, takes a deep breath and says "Arr! Me be the doctor!"

"What doctor?" Bepo asks, absolutely perplexed.

"I think you mean doctor who" you say.

_______________

So yeah, Law is teleporting to surrealism now, you two have now SEEN things. What absolutely mind boggling adventures did you go on? I don't know. I kind of couldn't get a heartwarming part in there, but imagining law in a skintight suit surely warms something in me.

[horrormoviemonstermakeout]

MONSTER RATING: Godzilla (Shin Godzilla)

Shin Godzilla is a new spin on Godzilla from Japanese directors Hideaki Anno and Shinji Higuchi, and it fucking rules. Look, I love most of the Godzilla movies, even though it went from a metaphor to the horrors of war and the nuclear bomb to basically just kaiju WWE, Godzilla was meant to be a terrifying monster. Shin Godzilla seeks to rectify it with this new incarnation - a mutilated, radiation-scarred amalgamation of tumorous, charred flesh.

Shin Godzilla follows the members of the Japanese government as they attempt to weave their way through the bureaucratic and social nightmare of a 400 foot tall irradiated monster seeking to destroy one of the most densely populated cities in the world. It’s a fairly interesting concept - it’s less a typical kaiju story and more of someone going “Okay, seriously, what if Godzilla actually existed in real life, what would happen?” I’ve been known to enjoy ridiculous hypotheticals and I, for one, am glad that Shin Godzilla follows through with it and still manages to make it interesting. The wonderful performances really sell that these people are responsible for the lives of several million citizens and that they are utterly aware of how limited their powers are. These are people trying to do the best they can to not let this be the worst humanitarian disaster on the face of the planet.

The movie’s cast is huge, I could swear they have enough actors to replicate the Japanese government one-to-one, which makes it a little difficult to pick out who our main protagonists are. The one we focus on the most is Rando Yaguchi (Hiroki Hasegawa), Deputy Chief Cabinet Secretary, our main protagonist with his friend Hideki Akasaka (Yutaka Takenouchi), the Prime Minister's aide, and Kayoco Anne Patterson (Satomi Ishihara), the US President’s envoy. As Godzilla grows more and more dangerous - with mutations that threaten to obliterate Tokyo, if not all of Japan - they must organize as many people as they can muster in order to devise a plan to stop Godzilla in its tracks. All the while attempting to placate the US, who is more than eager to destroy Godzilla, along with all of Tokyo, with nuclear force.

I know political commentary is not usually what people come to Godzilla for, but the “what if”-esque nature of this movie lends itself to it surprisingly well. Godzilla is treated both as a force of nature, much like an earthquake or hurricane, that appears randomly to cause arbitrary death and destruction, and a hostile entity that has to be combatted. It’s shockingly realistic for a disaster movie, we see how the government is stretched thin trying to handle evacuation, military deployment, trying to seek reason in a country with an itchy trigger finger resting on the nuke button - it gets tense watching them despair and panic, doing everything they can to minimize the loss of human life.

No punches are pulled at the expense of America, of course. Our response is immediate military deployment, with little to no regard for collateral damage or civilian casualties. Props to the movie for accuracy, even if attempts to fight Godzilla with raw military power are futile. Gunfire, cannonfire, missiles, everything seems to bounce off its burnt exterior without so much as a scratch. The only thing that manages to pierce its skin are the missiles dropped from American B-52 bombers. In response, Godzilla discharges dozens of laser beams from his back, destroying the bombers and reducing the metropolitan area to a burning, irradiated wasteland. Even if the missiles did succeed, the movie is quick to point out that the carpet bombing would’ve annihilated Tokyo anyways. When conventional weaponry doesn’t work, the US immediately plans to destroy both Godzilla and Tokyo through use of a nuclear bomb. Every character is justifiably horrified at this.

Godzilla in this movie is a being of ultimate violence, absolutely nothing can trump it. When there’s a weapon it can’t shrug off, it evolves to surpass it. More importantly though, he’s basically a wild animal trapped in a corner. Of course it’s going to lash out, you’re provoking the god of violence and he’s scared shitless. He is the ultimate hubris punisher, a being that exists to humble humanity and say “Your violence will only be met with destruction.” The calls for violence against it are noticeable once you pick it up, even in the beginning when it’s a large, unknown, whale-like creature in the Tokyo bay, the government officials are already calling for its extermination. The only way he is defeated is through scientific research and understanding, a blood coagulant that is developed only through study of its molecular structure and behavior. The movie’s big message is “Violence will only ever beget greater violence, it’s only through cooperation and understanding that humanity can survive,” and it’s using the American proclivity towards violence as the cudgel for this metaphor, which is great.

We talked a lot about what he represents, but let's get literal for a moment. Let's talk about the big man himself.

- MONSTER RATING - GODZILLA -

CREEPINESS: 7/10 - Classically, Godzilla is just one big dinosaur, and like, conceptually it’s pretty terrifying. He’s a giant monster that’s almost impossible to fight and can kill thousands of people pretty easily, though a lot of the older movies have added a bit of narm to him. For a lot of people, Godzilla is more a goofy rubber monster than something horrifying.

Shin Godzilla is horrifying. His design makes it look like he’s one-half dead, useless flesh and the other half painful, tumorous overgrowth, with the exterior of thick, folded over, burnt skin and dull red light faintly glowing from where it’s thinnest. Raw, exposed flesh that’s visible from the parts that aren’t covered in charred skin. The shriveled, contorted arms that seemed to have lost functionality. The several overlapping teeth that seem to just grow randomly from in and around its mouth. This beast is a product of radiation and every single part of it seems to yearn for a swift release. Existence for Shin Godzilla seems to be one of endless pain, as its tumor-ridden body continues to survive despite it threatening to fall apart.

Though what makes him even scarier than his design is that the movie portrays him like the personification of natural disaster. It cannot be reasoned with, it cannot be stopped, and the more you try to stop him, the more death and destruction he will cause. Even then, nothing humanity can do can actually stop it, it’s more powerful than any weapon on Earth, and its existence only signifies inevitable annihilation. Humans are no longer on top, and they’re no longer safe either. 

The ONLY thing that stops Godzilla from being truly terrifying is - and I’m sorry to say this - the eyes. Big, googly-eyed peepers that don’t suggest any form of brain activity in that skull. A lot of people seem to think it’s first appearance in the film, when it’s younger and less developed, is actually pretty cute in an ugly pug sort of way. The googly eyes carry on even to hid final form, which makes him look unfortunately goofy with his beady little eyes. I understand the movie is trying to go with the glassy, dead-eyed fish appearance to make it look even more like a walking corpse, but it doesn’t really stick. Otherwise, the design is phenomenal.

WETNESS: 6/10 - Surprisingly not as wet as you'D think for a giant fish. His final form makes him look like he survived an hour in the incinerator. The dry, black, cracked skin with a faint red glowing underneath conveying the unbridled nuclear heat stored inside. Though he loses his wetness as he evolves, his first appearance is wet as HELL.

Godzilla is a fish that’s become irradiated, and you can certainly tell that when he first appears. His skin is still green and not yet covered in burnt flesh, though with some parts that are just exposed musculature, as if its rapid growth is literally ripping him apart. As he crawls through the streets of Tokyo, blood spills out of his gills with every breath. This is the midpoint between what it once was and what it will become and it looks utterly painful. If his final form is nuclear incineration, his first form is nuclear disintegration. His cells are just barely holding together as he’s forcefully evolved into a being of destruction.

DATEABILITY: 8/10 - Let me give you a quote from the director of the 1954 Godzilla film, Ishir⁠ō Honda:

“Monsters are tragic beings. They are born too tall, too strong, too heavy. They are not evil by choice. That is their tragedy. They do not attack people because they want to, but because of their size and strength, mankind has no other choice but to defend himself.”

You’re a fish in the ocean, and by happenstance you accidentally find yourself in a nuclear waste dumping ground. The radiation mutates you. Slowly, painfully, you grow larger. Your fins are replaced with distortions of limbs, blood spills out of your gills, and you have no idea what is causing the pain you feel. Soon enough, you start surpassing buildings in size, and in a blind, pained stupor you find yourself in a city. Your body is too huge and unwieldy, as you move the infrastructure around you turns to rubble, and hundreds die in your wake. In response, humans have no choice but to try and kill you. You never chose this, you never even realized what was happening, but now you’ve become a god of death, the only thing you will ever cause is misery and disaster. You are utterly alone, because you’ve become built for violence, and violence will be the only thing you’ll know for the rest of your life.

Godzilla is all alone in this world, and no one can possibly understand them. He might be a terrifying destructive god on the outside but on the inside they’re angry and terrified. Can you imagine suddenly mutating into a gigantic monster, whose existence can only destroy? How alienating it must be that you cannot coexist with the life around you, that the only thing that can follow you is unmitigated death. No one will try to understand you, let alone sympathize with you, because you will only ever be a threat and nothing more. It’s fascinating that the song that plays when Godzilla unleashes his nuclear beams, “Who Will Know,” is one that’s sympathetic to him.

“If I die in this world / Who will know something of me? / I am lost, no one knows / There’s no trace of my yearning.”

Godzilla in this movie, despite his city-destroying size and power, is still the scared little guppy he once was. He doesn’t know any better, he doesn’t even know why this is happening to him in the first place. What he needs most of all is someone next to him, to see him for what he is, and to love and care for him despite his irradiated and monstrous appearance. Someone to quell the fiery radioactive fear in his heart, and show him the love he needs in a world that only seeks his death.

FINAL RATING: A GIANT TUMOR WORTH LOVING / 10

[nixmcretro]

New Year, New Something That Rhymes with Year

Technically I’m still the same, but my hammock is weirdly outdoors. For the first time in years I have an outdoor area. I’m no longer trapped in a box. I hate apartments. At the same time, urban sprawl isn’t good from an environmental standpoint either. Maybe the answer lies in population reduction? I’m doing my part!

We’ve got cicadas out here in the wastelands. The floury baker cicadas are still about, the one above was intercepted from a noisy miner (Manorina melanocephala) but had catastrophic wing damage at the joint. He was laid to rest that same afternoon. Just because something can suffer, doesn’t mean it should. Rest easy little one.

We’ve also held our first barbecue without incident. My diet remains mostly vegan, thanks to reduced pressure on rent. The only big exception is salmon which will probably be replaced eventually again.

The garden though, and being able to have plants outdoors in the sunlight. What a game changer. I’ve made an active decision to let dandelions take over the buffalo grass. They mow down quite well.

Looks better than any buffalo grass I’ve ever seen. Function over form I say. When they are at full growth, they provide pollen for the bees (native and European), harbour lots of little bug jumpers, which in turn feed the lizards that roam the grass. A little sad when a common blackbird (Turdus merula) snaps up a few, but as long as I can keep the bugs plentiful the lizards should thrive.

Not everything has been rosy though. My first plant casualty, lavender. I had high hopes for it, but since I don’t really know what I am doing it kind of died. Farewell lavender.

My native beehives have been doing well, attracting a few different species of native masked bee (Genus Hylaneus) as well as native wasps (possibly Genus Pison). Both are ridiculously tiny and harmless to us.

Then you’ve got the other bugs, like the pictured assassin bug nymph, Pristhesancus plagipennis. It’s ready to drink the brains of the next honeybee that lands nearby.

And now I’m back on the Apple Watch train with my shiny new Apple Watch SE 2. This time around I’ve picked out the smaller of the two and went with the 40mm. And I have to say, I do not miss the bulk of the 44mm. The Apple Watch is a great motivator to stay on track with new year health goals.

Wait that’s not the image I was looking for… that’s more dandelions!

Whoops, that’s another floury baker cicada. I think the several that were in this tree were eaten by the local bat population as they’ve been silent for a while now.

And that’s Stumpie. Tail growth is coming along well. If I find him running about while I’m mowing the lawn I’ll move him into a lizard hotel plastic tub until I’m done.

Don’t look at me like that Stumpie. We don’t want any repeats of how you got the name Stumpie after all!

Then we’ve got this little guy still rocking about, a bar-sided skink (Concinnia tenuis). After being trapped by a redback spider (Latrodectus hasselti). Luckily for the lizard I noticed…

And here’s the data I wanted to show. Weight loss is beginning again. You might notice a drop almost immediately after becoming unemployed, then a spike to >100 kg when I ran out of money thanks to Sydney’s rental market being unaffordable for a single person – let alone an unemployed single person.

Sure, I could have killed myself easily enough but chose to do the paradigm shift thing. Is it enough of a shift? That’s still an unknown at this point. At least for now, there are real life distractions everywhere which seems to leave very little time for uploading videos. Not such a bad thing I guess. That’s not to say I haven’t been recording new footage.

Better go and check the garden is still there and get my 30 minutes of exercise in. Target weight is set at 75 kg this time around. Roughly 20 kg of weight loss to go, and while transitioning. Should be one heck of a ride. 🤷‍♀️

[silentcartoonist2018]

CU Epilogue AU Chapter 3 and 3 1/2

Chapter 3-The Clown

*drip*…….*drip*

He didn’t know how much time had passed, but it felt like hours. Krupp was lying down on something hard, like the tiles of his office. 

*drip*………..*drip*……..

His vision slowly began to regain focus. He didn’t quite remember lying face down on the floor.

*drip*………..*drip*……..

He didn’t quite remember his office having a leak. 

*drip*………..*drip*……..*drip*………..*drip*……..

In fact, he didn’t even remember there being three doors in his office.

Three?

Krupp raised his head and looked around. “This isn’t my office….”

The doors he saw belonged to three small structures around him, no bigger than the size of a large phone booth. There were two booths in front of him. One was titled “SUPEREGO”, and the other had “I” and “D” on it. The dripping sound seemed to come from one of the booths, most likely the I-D one with water leaking out the sides. And behind him was a booth labeled “EGO”.

The rest of the area was surrounded by water and a bunch of nothing. The air was neither too hot nor too cold. The sky looked like it was splashed with some kind of oily substance.

This place isn’t even Earth.

Krupp reached to scratch his scalp only to feel that his toupee was firmly attached to his head. No, it was more than that. He could feel each follicle being firmly attached to his scalp. His toupee felt like real hair! 

“Wh-what is this!?” He exclaimed only to feel that his clothes felt different. “W-where are my clothes??”

A rather unfortunate question he asked out loud on multiple occasions once upon a time he’d rather not remember. Though this time, his clothes were different and his shoes and socks were missing. Instead of wearing his usual green work pants, buttoned white shirt, striped brown tie, and his brown loafers, he was wearing something to the equivalent of…pajamas. Just a simple perfectly sized green shirt and loose fitting green pants, both of which actually fit him perfectly and felt incredibly comfortable. 

In light of his current circumstances, he couldn’t help asking, “Where the heck am I?”

At first there was silence. But it was cut by a rather jovial voice. “Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes!”

Krupp turned around, but saw no one. It was until he was urged to look down did he see a rather dwarfish red clown in plain looking clothes, and a 5 o’ clock shadow. 

“Didn’t think I’d see you wandering this place again!”

The last thing Krupp wanted was to be near a washed up circus clown. Why is he here? How did he get here? Krupp doesn’t know and doesn’t even want to know.

“EYYY, It’s your favorite clown mascot in this unimaginative wasteland! Haven’t seen ya in like, what? 4 years? How’ve you been, buddy?”

Krupp pretended to ignore him and proceeded to open one of the doors.

“Ok, sure, go about your business,” the clown continued. “Dreamland is that way. Just leave me alone to wallow in the dark as usual.”

While the clown was rambling on his own, Krupp was busy trying to open one of the doors. 

The first one he tried to open, The EGO door, was unfortunately out of service. 

Ugh..they really are Porta-Potties… He thought. 

Surrounded by Porta-Potties, Krupp figured that the exit may very well be off the platform somewhere. 

He crept up to the edge of the platform and dipped one of his toes into the water. Oddly enough the surface seemed solid enough to walk on. So he made a beeline towards a random direction away from the platform. It was a bit strange that he’s able to dash miles in such a short time without getting tired. 

As the platform disappeared from the horizon, Krupp found another platform straight ahead. But as he got closer, he saw the same three porta-potties, same clown. “I-I’m back where I started??”

“Whaddya expect? It’s a closed space.” The clown replied.

Krupp continued to ignore the clown and ran in another direction only to yield the same result. He ran again and it was still the same. 

Maybe the clown knows something after all. He thought to himself.

“Of course I know something! I’ve been in here watching your soul wander this dreamscape for the past four years!”

Krupp changed his mind, he didn’t expect the clown to actually read his thoughts. 

“Of course I can read your thoughts! I can read the narration too!”

“Will you just SHUT UP??” Krupp roared.

Krupp looked around and there was no clown in sight. 

Finally. 

Krupp decided to go back to opening the doors again. Maybe one of the Porta-Potties are actually vacant.

“Hey, wait a minute!”

“GYAAAHH!!” Krupp was taken aback and found the clown floating in front of his head…too close.

“HA! You actually heard me! This is a first! No more spectating for me, anymore!” The clown exclaimed as he zipped this way, that way, and all around Krupp.

Krupp was at his wit’s end. “Look, I don’t know who the heck you are, but I’d rather find an exit out of wherever this place is than stick around for a circus!”

“Ooooh, that burn would actually hurt if only I were a REAL clown.”

“I don’t care.” Said Krupp coldly. “Where’s the exit?”

“Since you asked nicely,” the clown adjusted his trousers. “It’s through one of these porta-potties of course!”

Krupp dashed over to the SUPEREGO door, still occupied. He tried the I-D Door, Vacant.

“That’s the ID door. Sounds like ‘lid’ but minus the ‘L’. It’s flooded, by the way.”

“I didn’t need to hear that!” Krupp yelled.

“Also, I wouldn’t go in there if I were you unless you wanna get deeper into this mess.”

“Then which one’s the exit?”

“The one you fell out of, the EGO door.”

“WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY THAT EARLIER??”

“I’m sorry,” Said the clown sarcastically “I thought you were ignoring me!”

“I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS!” Having lost all his patience, Mr. Krupp grabbed the handle of the EGO door. 

*SNAP*

Suddenly a resonant finger snap echoed everywhere and rang loudly in Mr. Krupp’s ears, which made him wince. Everything started to warp and melt around him until he could barely recognize the door. Sadly the handle to what he’d hoped to be the exit twisted and turned out of his hand. 

“What’s happening?” Krupp had one hand on his head as it started to spin. His thoughts turned into such a jumbled mess that he couldn’t make sense out of it. 

The clown examined his melting surroundings. “Looks like your real body has been staring at the ring for well over an hour now.”

“Ring? Real Body?”

“When that happens, it’s gonna automatically put you to sleep.”

“Wait, what?”

*SNAP*

Another snap echoed in the air and Krupp winced again, but this time, he was feeling weaker. He looked around to see where the snap came from only to follow it back to the clown. “You’ve been the one snapping?” He said. 

“The ring’s making me do it. It’s a trigger from the last time you were hypnotized that’s supposed to put you in a trance. Or in this case, asleep. But so what? No big deal.”

“SO WHAT?? I got work to do! Got paper slips to fill, meetings to go to, s-students to punish, taxes….bills…and tonight…..…tonight….I….”

Krupp suddenly started to feel strange. His mind was spinning fast but his thoughts started to slow down. He tried to shake it away, but it seemed to make him dizzier and dizzier. 

“Sounds like an awful lot of work” said the clown, his tone starting to change. “But you don’t really want to do them, do you?”

Krupp was taken aback. “What do you mean by that?”

“Wouldn’t it be nice if all that went away?”

*SNAP*

All at once, Krupp felt a huge weight lift away. It was a relief but he felt as if something had been shoved out of his head.

“Huh…? What was I…?” He tried to recall something. Anything.

“Don’t think too hard about it.” The clown continued “You’ll remember when you wake up. For now, just breathe slowly….in…..and out….In….and out…nice and slow….”

Krupp’s breathing became slower and heavier. 

“Now focus on my voice…and let yourself relax…” The clown started speaking at a much slower pace and started to sound like an echoing drone in the back of Krupp’s head.

Gradually, Krupp began to feel a vague tingling sensation spreading out from the back of his neck and moving throughout his body. It didn’t feel uncomfortable but it didn’t feel bad either. In fact, it felt like a massage.

“Good, that’s it….While you’re breathing like that, notice how you’re gradually becoming more and more relaxed….relaxed to the point where you’re becoming drowsy.”

“Wha…? No I’m…”Krupp protested, but before he could finish, his voice trailed into a big yawn and all of a sudden, his body began to feel heavier, even more relaxed. 

“Drowsier…..and drowsier..…”

Bit by bit, both of Krupp’s arms fell to his side, dangling lazily from his shoulders.

“That’s it…feel the rest of your body falling asleep…”

Krupp felt his awareness drifting away. The world around him, along with the clown seemed to fade away into the background. Everything to him felt so tranquil his eyelids drifted halfway closed and eventually, he was left standing in a deep trance….

“Now, how about a place to lie down?” The clown continued to snap his fingers again and this time, the landscape began to change. It was as if he were transported to a vibrant night sky.  

“You’re surrounded by a large field of soft and drowsy clouds. Some are trying to billow up high, but they keep falling down, barely able to stand up anymore…and staring at them makes you feel even more sleepy too, doesn’t it?”

Krupp’s blank stare sluggishly turned his attention towards a dense patch of clouds forming by his feet.

“Before you is a cloudy bed for you to sleep on,” said the clown. “It’s so soft and comfortable that once you sink into it, all the rest of your worries and stress will drain away and disappear…Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Krupp’s posture began to sway and tilt towards the cloud, only to be held back by the collar of his shirt.

“Not yet…not until I count from 10,” the clown said. “By the time I reach zero, you’ll be fast asleep, and you can relax on that cloud for as long as you want.”

The clown began to count down slowly, and with each passing number, Krupp’s sleepy eyes began to droop even further. 

“10…..more and more relaxed with each number…..9……8……too tired to move……7……6……..5……..sleepier and sleepier……4…….3…….you don’t want to think anymore……2……almost there…..1…..so tired, so sleepy…….zero.”

*SNAP*

The clown let go of Krupp’s collar, finally allowing Krupp to fall into the cloud, eyes fully closed like heavy doors. 

It was more comfortable than his bed at home. It felt like he was sleeping on top of a big, giant pillow. More than that, it was gently cradling him and hugging all of his insecurities away. Full of thoughts of falling even deeper and deeper into a peaceful slumber, he felt his mind gradually shutting down. 

“There we go…Don’t you feel so much better now?” The clown asked.

“Yesssss……” Krupp replied in a sleepy whisper. 

“Perfectly relaxed and sleepy….?”

“…..s-sooo…..s-sleepyyyy…..”

“That’s right….Let your mind drift away…..”

In one last push of effort, Krupp just barely managed to open one eye and saw something in the clouds. A shadow of some sort. Something or someone familiar. But he couldn’t quite make it out. 

Unable to recognize anything, he finally closed his eye and passed out, drifting in his mind, embraced by a soft cloud of sleep.

……………………………………………………..

Chapter 3 1/2—A Dream Within A Dream

He remembered falling. 

Slowly as if He were sinking to the bottom of a body of water. 

Everything was black.

But there was air around Him.

Something that He thought was air.

After a gentle hover… 

He landed on what He felt was the ground.

Everything was quiet.

Dead Quiet

At least at first.

In the inky darkness

He could hear a distant rustle 

And a gentle wind 

Starting to pick up speed. 

When He turned, He saw a large white leaf rolling by His feet. 

Upon picking it up…

He realized that it wasn’t a leaf…

But a sheet of paper… 

With a picture on it. 

There was a pair of hands ripping up a comic book.

Another sheet rolled by.

It was His school building.

And another.

A pair of students with blotted out faces.

And another.

The faces of the people who worked with Him, 

With only one person smiling.

He instinctively knew that these were His memories, without question.

Just His ordinary life. 

The wind blew stronger and this time a sheet of paper blew right into His face.

He pulled it off.

It was an amorphous monster with metallic arms.

He could feel a tinge of fear as the sheet began to turn red.

The wind was blowing a bit stronger and more sheets of red paper blew by.

One sheet had a pair of hands pulling a robot in half. 

He didn’t recognize this one.

Another blew by.

There was a purple lady with multiple green arms.

And another.

A cranky old man who piloted a robot. 

And another.

A giant angry hamster.

They all looked familiar, but He didn’t recognize them.

He could hear the wind starting to howl.

“Make it stop……make it stop…..make it stop….”

His instincts told Him to run. 

Suddenly the papers that blew towards Him started blowing in the opposite direction.

It was a mix of red and white sheets of paper.

Accumulating into something large. 

A tornado.

It was coming after Him.

And so He ran.

He ran.

But He couldn’t move.

He was practically running on a treadmill.

The wind was screaming in His ears.

It would only be a matter of time before the tornado would catch up to Him.

And it did.

It lifted Him up into the air. 

Paper was flying everywhere.

Depicting all sorts of monsters He didn’t recognize.

The monsters started to jump off the pages.

They were all after Him.

He covered Himself with His arms 

As they started closing in.

He couldn’t escape from this.

He was trapped.

He was scared.

“MAKE IT STOP!!!”

All of a sudden, a red light started glowing inside His chest.

His heart started pounding.

But it wasn’t His heart. 

It was pounding from the inside.

Something was inside His chest.

Trying to get out.

The light pulsed even brighter

And forced the monsters to retreat.

Before long the tornado began to dissipate.

And He was on the ground again.

He thought the turmoil was over.

But the light was still pounding in His chest. 

Harder and harder.

It made Him turn in a specific direction

Where He saw a shadowy figure

Walking through the paper that fell like snow.

He couldn’t see who It was.

But something about It felt VERY familiar.

It reached out a hand towards Him

As if It wanted something. 

He felt Himself being pulled towards the figure.

He tried to pull Himself back.

But He kept moving forward.

The gap between Him and the figure was closing by yards.

Feet.

Inches.

The pounding and pulling finally stopped.

Along with the paper that fell around them. 

Everything was still for a while.

The figure motioned Its hand again. 

He had nothing to give. 

It motioned again.

He still had nothing. 

At long last the figure pressed Its finger against His chest.

Above the spot where the light was.

Everything glowed red.

And faded to white.

[f0point5]

I hate how the men always dress so boringly at the met. I wouldn't let them in if they were wearing a plain suit. Or sometimes they go nuts with some absurd monstrosity that doesn't fit the theme at all. (But this could be said of the women as well). Personally really loved Barry Keoghan's suit. And Lewis at least looked pretty.

Idk why it's so hard for most people to interpret a theme? I'd love to wear a creative dress if I could go, and instead these boring ass people are there like....

Have to disagree I’m sorry 🫣 I am not a men’s fashion girlie. I like simple, elegant black tie on a man. I do think it’s kinda funny that they take up carpet time considering a lot of the time they have no interest in doing much in terms of the fashion, but I do prefer it as an overall look when they just do less.

It’s a personal thing for me.

Very few outfits actually were a real rumination on the theme. Everyone just heard Garden and dressed like demented horticulturalists. I’m not sure if it’s been explicitly stated that the theme is taken from the short story but I would have at least appreciated some people leaning more into that. Zendaya’s second outfit for me was the most explicit reference to Ballard’s work, with the dark dress encroaching on her floral headdress which sort of represented the last vestiges of beauty. But I also like Tyla’s concept, with the hourglass (“time is running out”) and her being this sort of moving barren wasteland/shifting sands of time.

Idk they need to start sending packs out in the real inspiration so that designers actually have more direction. Or start screening outfits so not everyone is arriving with the same concept.

But yeah I do agree the men do not do enough to justify the amount of time they take up on the carpet. I didn’t hate Barry’s look, I thought it was a little Lestat de Lioncourt but that’s sort of on theme. It didn’t match Sabrina at all though.

[dbphantom]

Watched the first 2 episodes of the Fallout show and was pleasantly surprised. I have a few complaints but I actually did enjoy the first episode a lot and the 2nd was pretty decent too

I really really enjoyed the sets, especially the Vault. Really well done and the vibes are perfect. The scene in the farm where the film of the projector burns and looks like bombs going off around them during the raid was great. A touch cheesy but I appreciated it bc I am a cheesy media connoisseur

I really like Lucy and the ghoul (don't remember his name). Maximus is on thin ice cuz dude is... a bit unhinged in the first 2 episodes. But he was raised by the brotherhood so I'm wishing him the best character arc. I am hoping he realizes how shitty the brotherhood is and defects by the end of the season... I'm convinced that's what's going to happen, but we will see what they do.

One scene that made me roll my eyes was the raider husband coming back to life after Lucy cut his jugular so that the dad could get the kill on him. Like why not let that moment impact her more?? Why did the dad have to be the one to kill him? Was it supposed to foreshadow that the dad was a raider or something? Cuz honestly I'm mostly suspect due to the raiders taking him with them, it's classic to have the father be a criminal but he's reformed because of his dead wife and kid... Would be awesome if they twisted it so it's the mother who was the raider, but didn't they already say she was from this Vault and the dad was the one transferred over? Regardless, that totally ripped away a character moment for Lucy. That man stole her kill...

Another thing I didn't like was the appearance of the Brotherhood so soon in episode 1. They appear before the viewer even knows what the wasteland looks like for everyone else. You see the Prydwen before you see your first established settlement and that kind of ruins the idea imo. People are struggling to live, but the brotherhood is hoarding tech. Show the people struggling first, THEN have the Brotherhood appear.

Maybe they're doing it this way because you're supposed to be viewing things like Maximus (loosing his faith in the brotherhood as the season goes on because he was raised by them and was indoctrinated, please, it would be a nice parallel to Lucy), but it still makes the pacing feel off. The friend I watched it with (hi @bautistawithadrive) agreed w/ that and he isn't even a Fallout fanatic. It just feels weird. I get that pacing is gonna be wack cuz it's an 8 (?) episode season, but it just isn't working for me.

The ghoul is fine. His intro scene at the start was cute. I found it interesting the shot of the bombs going off around them, but I'm 90% sure it's canon in lore that the Fallout nukes are less powerful than ours so I have no real complaints. If it's not canon, then it's a widely accepted fanon. I was just confused why the little girl wasn't blinded by the flash because I'm pretty sure there are logs in the games of people who were blinded when they saw the flashes? I could be misremembering tho I don't have enough room for all the Fallout lore in my brain. Anyway it's an insignificant detail overall afaik, so I'm being fussy, I think.

I am kinda bummed the ghoul doesn't look worse tho. Weird complaint probably but I was hoping he'd be a bit more idk... Ragged? Given all the other gore in the show, I was interested to see how they'd do the makeup for the ghouls, but just like nexus modders, they took the cowards way out. He looks (and sounds, oof) like a generic bald dude with some liquid latex on his cheeks and a missing nose.

The best friend of Lucy is another fave, I really.enjoyed every time she was on screen. Good actress, I hope she either becomes a villain (that eyepatch in the end credits bit of ep 2 is throwing me haha) or follows Lucy out of the Vault (or both).

I'm also curious to see where the brother's character is going to go because they could do a lot with him since he was pretty bland at the start. He could follow Lucy out (maybe with the best friend) or start some kind of political change in the people of the Vault so it will cause conflict when (if) Lucy returns, or he could convince them all to leave the Vault. It'd be cool if he found what their specific Vault experiment was meant to be, then either put it in action or made sure no other Overseer would be able to continue it. Maybe I have too much hope for such a short season... But it would be a fun way to introduce Vault experiments to the audience.

One thing I am VERY nervous about is if they're going to make Lucy pregnannte. I could see them doing it bc that sex scene with the raider felt like a Chekov's gun situation (plus the BFF being like "I can't wait to raise our kids together!" which initially had me like 'wait what are they a lesbian couple forced to get with dudes to make babies? That'd be an awesome storyline!' but thinking abt it I'm wondering if it is foreshadowing for the bestie to also leave the Vault and track her down. Which I want to happen, I loved her character). Idk they could have just included a sex scene for the sake of having one... But I'm also thinking about all the morning sickness vs radiation sickness jokes they could be making, so if there is a scene of her puking in the next few episodes (beyond the gore-fest), I am SO calling it

But like to be clear I don't WANT it to happen, usually that kind of thing in shows makes me turn it off immediately because I'm so not interested in watching a character slowly become 2D for a wailing potato we're just supposed to like because it's a kid, so I hope they surprise me, but I also wouldn't be shocked if it did because all the set-up is there 😬

[wrmchild]

The City

Where am I? Wheres finch? Augh my head hurts, what happened? These were the only thoughts that occurred to me before I blacked out. Again.

Bright lights. Excruciating pain. Where's finch? I need to find them. Where am I? Ah yes, I remember now. The bots attacked our alley. They came so quickly- I didn't have time to think. There was... an explosion? My head hurts so much...

BOOM

Slammed back into reality, I search my surroundings for something, anything that might be a sign of home. A barren wasteland surrounds me consuming any surroundings in a heavy dust cloud, swallowing any hope I had of finding my way home. Trying to keep my heavy eyelids open, I attempt to stand up- only to almost immediately fall back down to the painfully rough, crude ground of this lifeless place. As I stagger around, bleary eyed, I spot someone, no, something hurtling towards me at an alarming speed in the distance. As my mind clears, my instincts finally kick in.

Run.

As these murderous mechanical monsters soar towards me, I drag my empty, fatigued body across the scorching ground, littered with dead animals. So, the radiation doesn't just kill humans then, I think to myself, momentarily forgetting I'm running for my life .

Right, I need to get my priorities in line- lists always help, right? First, I need to escape from these stupid hunks of metal and shoot them down. Then I need to find my way back to the city- disguised as a bot (ingenious, I know), find finch and escape this hell-hole with them. However, it appeared that while I was forming a plan, the bots had disappeared. Just great.

Carefully removing my bow and arrows from my back, I check the perished features of this death trap for any threat. Wait- what's that noise-I flick my eyes upwards just in time to realise the bots are trying to attack from above. Trying to remain calm, I aim with shaking, calloused hands, and- 3, 2, 1- FIRE!

The bots lifeless iron bodies fall to the floor. Perfect shot.

Just as I finish the tedious process of taking the bot apart and cobbling together its sterile features into some armour, the dust cloud clears to reveal the city, immense and imperial, right in front of my sleepless eyes. "You got this jade" I murmur to myself, pushing aside the doubt already gnawing a hole in my malnourished stomach, and turning on the bot's jet pack. If I'm optimistic enough, it looks like there's just enough power left to fly me back to our alley, where finch will hopefully be waiting, to get out of this abyss, and return home, to mum and pops. "Here goes nothing " I mutter as I shoot up into the perilous sunrise.

"Wow"

I can't help but say it out loud, I haven't been above The city in years. Its... really quite beautiful for a place like this, ridden with disease, death and abuse, overthrown by bots, stealing our homes, our food, our water.. but as the sun blooms on the horizon, its golden petals stretching ever outwards into the rich blue, a flower of the sky, warming my soul, an invitation to a new day, reflecting off the cracked windows of the crumbling skyscrapers, once holding entire communities, now derelict, abandoned and disintegrating. The roads are clear, no bots in sight, no imminent danger.. it feels quite peaceful....

Wait.

Am I getting closer to these deadly superstructures? Oh crap. The powers cut out! I guess just optimism wasn't enough to fly me back to The City.. wait- wher is the parachute? Please dont say I left it back in the wasteland! Well I guess theres nothing else left to say other than- "HEEELP!".

Just as I'm saying my final goodbyes to everything and everyone in my life, wishing I'd done so much more with my life, I'm swept away from my gory death, and into someone's arms. Human arms. Not a robot. A real life breathing human with real life thoughts and real life emotions. Not just some worthless hunk of metal. A human. Who has just saved me from my gruesome demise.

Dazed and confused, my head filling with so many questions, I feel it'll explode. Suddenly I realise we are miles above The City, above the clouds even! My head... it feels like it weighs a thousand tons. Looking up, all I see is Finch's concerned face looking down at me.

"Jade?"

[sugcrxspice]

Cheeks growing pink in a flush of irritation when he stuck his tongue out at her, the brunette scrunched her nose up in response. "Do I need to start keeping a running list of your fuck-ups so we can forget about this little lapse in judgment and call it square?" Ava warned, jabbing a finger in Min's direction for good measure. "Okay, I'm not gonna fight you on that one." Truly a feat for the young Adler, given her penchant for picking all kinds of fights. "I wouldn't have traded London for this snowy wasteland where dreams go to die. But still... uprooting your life sounds hard. Can't imagine that was easy on you." It was simply the way their friendship worked: childishly sticking their tongues out at each other one minute, and giving each other more sincere and heartfelt compliments the next (albeit begrudgingly and often through layers of sarcasm). This dichotomy was perfectly exemplified at Ava's reaction to his remark about her friendship making the move worthwhile, her eyes widening into a misty, affected pout. "Aww, Minnie, are you calling me a silver lining?" she jested, blowing right past the implication that their friendship also wasn't enough to constitute a step up in the world. But although the two seemed like polar opposites in terms of personality and how they preferred to engage with the world, Ava could empathize all too well with Min's compulsion to puff his chest out and save whatever was left of his pride, as she had been doing much of the same since she was a teenager.

Eyes following Min around the salon, too petrified by the idea that somehow, she'd make one wrong move and would risk ruining the designer bag, the brunette allowed her more straight-laced co-worker to take the reins just this once. She was typically inclined to take on leadership roles in all avenues of her life, no matter to what degree. But times like this brought out the panicked little girl in Ava, looking to anyone with a firmer grip on reality to keep her head screwed on straight. At his last ditch effort for a solution to her little conundrum, she breathed a sigh of relief. "Yeah, okay... I think keeping it in your bag could work. Do you have anything in there that could stain it, like pens or lip products?" she worried, anxiously shifting from foot to foot. "Oh, who am I kidding? You're way more organized than me." The sacrifice that Min was making just to keep her Tory Burch purse safe was not lost on her. Though she often came off as a superficial and destructive young girl, seemingly too focused on herself to notice the plight of others, Ava was more thoughtful than people gave her credit for. She knew just how much Min valued his space, so it seemed like a natural leap in logic that the real estate in his bag was no exception. Holding her breath as she carefully slipped the purse into his backpack, she let out a long breath when it slid right into place. "Thank Christ. I really owe you for this. Maybe I can pick you up a little thank you gift on my next paycheck," she offered with an earnest grin, her panicked expression softening considerably.

“All I said was that I wasn't stupid,” Min said, shrugging. “But if the shoe fits.” It was a jab obviously made in jest and his playful tone should have suggested as such, if the way he stuck out his tongue at her didn't. Now, to Min's mind, gutsy was just another word for stupid, with the sole thing setting the two ideas apart being whether or not you succeeded at the end of it. Min wasn't sure he had succeeded at very much but it was hard to say he'd failed either. Where did that leave him? “Then maybe I'm insane for coming here all the way from London, of all places,” said Min, with a slow, emphatic shrug. “Well, I mean, you're here so it's not all bad but it's hardly a step up in the world.” Yet the closer to ground he remained, the softer the fall would be. He'd been chased all his life by a fear of failure so great that it had caused him to stumble at every hurdle, like a self-fulfilling prophecy. He dressed up nicely and stood tall so as to give the impression of certain confidence but he wasn't someone with a whole lot of pride in himself. Anyway, he was no at accepting compliments that weren't purely superficial so, to save himself the embarrassment, he moved on.

Min finally stood up straight, moving to act rather than lounge around offering sarcastic remarks. He looked about himself, as though the ideal hiding place would just spontaneously reveal itself somehow. They couldn't leave it out anywhere too open because that was a theft risk; the chances of it actually happen, particularly without anyone noticing, weren't high but anything above impossible was best avoided. Even leaving it in the usual private places for staff seemed difficult. It didn't seem like Ava wanted anybody else asking questions, not from the way she'd conspiratorially revealed the bag to Min. He took a few trips up and down the main room of the salon before finally giving up right in the centre “I could put it inside my bag?” he offered, finally, as he turned to face Ava. “I don't know if it'll fit but we could give it a go?” This had actually been his very first idea but, for whatever reason, he felt a little strange about anyone seeing the contents of his work bag. He always felt the contents of a person's bag told a story, at least if you thought about it long enough. Although Ava likely had no way of knowing this, Min was making quite the sacrifice for her. (Or, maybe, just maybe, this was more of his usual overthinking.) He hurried off to retrieve his bag from its proper place and returned with a decently-sized leather backpack, which he dropped down on the counter in front of Ava. “See if you can cram it in.”

[nightingaelic]

Reactions to a vampire courier? Companions plus Benny, Ulysses, Graham, House, Caesar, and Yes Man. (sorry if that's too many :x)

TW: Blood (maybe obviously)

Also I don't normally feel some type of way about AUs but the idea of Joshua Graham encountering a vampire courier is giving me shivers

The courier was a little... strange. Not in any way that stood out to the average wastelander just by looking at them, everyone in the Mojave had their quirks and the courier was no exception. Hell, you get shot in the head and come back, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. They were unquestionably a night owl, but so were half the people on the Strip, who only started to wake up after the sun had gone down and the slot machines were singing their loudest. They usually had bags under their bloodshot eyes, but every caravan driver from here to the Hub was short on sleep.

On the other hand, the courier had some habits that were a little beyond surface-level eccentricities. For one, no one had ever seen them eating, not once. Even when the King laid out a spread of pre-war snacks and liquor or when the buffet at the Tops was refreshed, they politely declined and took a swig from the canteen that they never offered to anyone else. They were also rather odd about bathrooms, insisting that anyone accompanying them remain outside on watch and let no one else through the door until they were finished. But the undeniable moment of oddity came one night in October, when their companion rounded a corner in Freeside after a trip to the Atomic Wrangler and discovered the courier behind a rusted dumpster, holding a man against a brick wall with their teeth buried in his neck.

The courier drew back at the interruption, blood smeared across their face. "I'm not- it's not what- he- oh, fuck."

Arcade Gannon: Arcade stared open-mouthed for a moment, before snapping violently back into the present. "Is he dead?"

"Umm..." The courier glanced at the man they were holding, whose head was lolling against the bricks. "Yes? Mostly."

With no patient to resuscitate, Arcade rounded on them. "Six, what in the ever-loving fuck are you doing?"

The courier tried to wipe away the blood that was dribbling from their chin, but they only succeeded in spreading it up their jawline. "Well, I, um, I was trying to..."

Whatever excuse they were searching for eluded them, so they dropped the pretense. "I was feeding, Arcade."

"Feeding? What, like some kind of-" Arcade's eyes widened and he cut his sentence off early in realization. "No. No way. That's not- vampires aren't real!"

That earned him a look of intense skepticism. "Arcade, we've fought off plant monsters and rattlesnake-coyote hybrids together. I have a gun in my pack that lets me teleport."

"Oh, okay, so you have some kind of iron deficiency and you're delusional." Arcade laughed, the sound high and harsh in the quiet alley. "Great. Fuck."

Craig Boone: Rather than engage in an abandoned alley, Boone immediately backtracked to a busier street. He was unsurprised when the courier didn't follow him: Even in Freeside, someone covered in blood was sure to be noticed and questioned.

Boone left town that night and made for Novac. He was pretty sure the courier would follow him, but he didn't know where else to go. At least he knew they were coming. A few people in Novac asked about where he'd been, what the courier was up to, but eventually they stopped asking.

A couple of weeks went by. Boone was on the night shift again when the door into the dinosaur swung open to reveal the courier. He'd heard someone coming, their feet on the stairs, and he already had his gun pointed in their face. "We will never work together again," he said, before they could open their mouth.

"Boone, can you just-"

"I don't want an explanation." Boone shook his head. "I don't need one. I already did you a favor, leaving New Vegas without putting you back in your grave. This is over."

The courier took a deep breath. "71."

"What?"

"71. I've killed 71 Legion soldiers and left their bodies empty under the Mojave sky." They looked down and shuffled their feet. "I've tasted their fear. They're more scared of me than the Burned Man, now."

Boone studied them. Ever so slowly, he lowered his gun.

Lily Bowen: "Put him down, dearie," Lily chastised them. "You're playing too roughly with that man. And watch your language around your grandma!"

The courier looked down at their victim, at their torn throat and limp limbs. "He tried to mug me, Lily. It wasn't pretty."

"He looks like he's had enough," Lily insisted. "Set him down. Gently."

With a sigh, the courier obliged and lowered the man to the ground. "I'm sorry, Lily. I should have told you earlier. I don't mean to be rude when I turn down your cooking, I just... I can't seem to..."

"Hush, now." Lily produced her enormous handkerchief and gathered the courier up in her arms, dabbing at the blood on their face with a corner of the cloth. "You've gotten it all over yourself, haven't you? We can clean that right up, but it looks like Grandma's going to have to do a load of laundry. You made the mess, so you get to help."

Raul Alfonso Tejada: Raul swallowed nervously, something he'd noticed he was increasingly doing around the courier. "You know, we get murciélagos down in Arizona that do the same thing. They won't leave the brahmin alone."

The courier took in his anxious stance and sighed. "Raul, I'm not going to hurt you. Prometo. It's okay."

"Sure boss, but I don't think the hair on the back of my neck is going down anytime soon." Raul smiled, but it was more of a grimace. "Or it wouldn't, if I still had any. Como..?"

"No clue." The courier shrugged and held their hands up, letting the corpse they'd been holding slide to the ground. "I think it had something to do with me surviving Benny's best attempts to do me in, but a bullet is a bullet and I don't remember if I was like this before, or..."

"Or only after." Raul chuckled. "Jesucristo, and here I am thinking I'll outlive you like most everyone else I've known."

"Yep."

"Should I start calling you el chupacabra?"

The courier grinned, a bloody smile with sharp teeth.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: "Fuck," Cass echoed, scrambling to pull her shotgun from its holster. "Knew I had too much, can't even- who are you and what've you done with the courier? Some kind of cannibal, wearing their skin? Alien? Shapeshifter? I'll blow a hole in your liver to match mine!"

"Whoa, Cass, it's me, it's me!" The courier dropped the man they were holding and held their blood-stained hands up. "Same old Six, just... maybe I wasn't straight with you about why I don't order anything at bars."

"Goddamn right you weren't straight with me!" Cass gestured at the body on the ground with the barrel of her gun. "Who's the fucker on the floor and why are you two pints in on him?"

"Just trying to get my drink on," the courier muttered.

Cass repaid this facetiousness with a jab of her shotgun, and they raised their hands higher. "Okay, okay, I'm sorry! You tell me, how do you tactfully tell someone that you're a creature of the night and you need to drink blood to survive?"

"Creature of the night? You're fucking loopy." Cass' eyes narrowed. "There's plenty of critters in the Mojave that only come out when it's dark, but most of them don't tear into..."

She trailed off into curses when she realized she was wrong. The courier smiled hesitantly and lowered their hands an inch. "Hey. Let me chuck this failed mugger in the dumpster and we can talk about it like a pair of civilized folks?"

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica squeaked and fell back a few steps, banging her elbow against the edge of the dumpster. A jolt of confused pain shot up her arm, and the Scribe couldn't help giggling harshly at the sudden assault on her funny bone.

"Not- laughing... at murder," she managed to get out between hisses of pain. "Oh, for the love of... right, you're not getting out of explaining what you are, exactly, just because I'm indis-indisposed!"

The courier couldn't help laughing at the squirming Scribe, but they did their best to stifle it. "Sorry, I'm sorry, I um... I guess I don't really know... what I am?"

"There's books!" Veronica burst out, pointing at the courier and their victim wildly. "I've seen them, in old libraries. Creatures that feed on blood, only come out at night, don't show up in... in mirrors, of course, no wonder you're weird about bathrooms, I should test... Dracula! That's it, you're a Dracula!"

"A Dracula?" The courier held their hands up, as if seeing them anew. "Never heard of them. Are they... bad?"

"Well, traditionally, yes." Veronica made a face and rubbed her elbow. "Black cloaks, sleeping in coffins, seducing and manipulating everyone around them... and people don't like it when you take their blood, in my experience."

"Whose blood have you taken?"

"This isn't about me, Six!"

ED-E: The eyebot bobbed wildly and made noises of concern, blips and blats and a flat burst of trumpets from some old jazz tune.

"I was hungry," the courier protested. "And this asshole pulled a knife on me and wanted all of my caps. Probably more than that, if we're being honest. He wasn't doing the world any good, but he did me some, for sure."

ED-E flipped between old clips of a Silver Shroud radio show. "Well, isn't this a deep, dark <static> secret? <static> In a situation such as this, the best anyone can do is <static> try to control it!" The robot added some more concerned beeps for good measure.

"I'm trying," the courier said with a sigh, looking down at the dead man they were holding. "You know I wouldn't hurt some random person, ED-E. Not if I could help it. The Mojave's full of bad people, enough to keep me going if I'm careful."

Rex: The hair on Rex's spine stood up, and he let out a long, low growl. The courier froze for a moment, before realizing that he was growling not at them but at the man they were holding.

"He's dead, Rex," they reassured the cyberdog, lowering the corpse to the floor for inspection.

Rex sniffed the body over, taking in the copper scent of his blood and the Freeside stink on his clothes. He sniffed the courier too, each of their hands they held out to him and the thick headiness of adrenaline. He whined and wagged his tail twice.

"Good boy," the courier said, straightening up. "It's about time I turned in, anyway. Let's dump this guy and split."

Benny Gecko: Benny crossed his arms. "You know, Six, if you're dead set on getting your kicks in Freeside every now and then, you might want to ease up on the passions with the next greaser you snag. This one's torn all to pieces."

"I wasn't- what kind of-" The courier dropped the man they were holding and sputtered. "Christ, only you could make a midnight murder awkward, Benny."

"Murder?" Benny raised his eyebrows and looked from side to side theatrically. "Who said anything about a murder? All I saw was some dreamboat and the best apple butterer of New Vegas playing back alley bingo, officer."

The courier's eyes narrowed. "Not gonna rat me out? Tell the King or somebody that I'm..."

"What, taking a page out of the White Glove Society's book?" Benny held his hands up. "None of my business. Well, if you ever come for me with that look in your eyes, though, that'll be a different story."

"Not much you'd be able to do," the courier pointed out. "You already tried and failed to kill me once."

Ulysses: Rather than react like any normal wastelander might've upon encountering someone attacking a man with their teeth, Ulysses just stood there, taking the scene in. "Heard tales of a tribe like you. East, farther east than even I've walked... a coven hiding in tunnels, emerging only when their hungers grow too strong to ignore, strong enough to pull blood from the veins of the world around them."

"Well, I don't hide in tunnels." The courier grimaced and heaved their victim up over their shoulder, depositing them unceremoniously in the dumpster. "Unless some disgruntled Frumentarius sends me out to hunt mutants under Hopeville."

"Perhaps you have more in common with those predators than I assumed," Ulysses admitted. "But then, your path has always run red. Blood of the Old World, blood of the new, blood of the Bull and the Bear..."

The courier rolled their eyes as they peeled off their red-stained coat and tossed it in the dumpster as well. "Don't talk to me about blood. I know you've seen just as much as me, but it doesn't mean the same thing when I look at it."

Ulysses cracked a hint of a smile. "You see life where I see death. Two sides, courier."

"Yeah, yeah. If you're not going to try to kill me, come on. You can wax poetic and lecture me about which road I'm walking while I take a shower."

Joshua Graham: "A creature far from God," Graham said in his most reproachful tone. "Forever damned for the souls of the innocent they've taken from the earth. Aren't we a pair, courier."

"You can fuck right off with that attitude." The courier dropped the man they were holding and wiped their hands on their coat. "He tried to kill me first. For some caps."

"The crimes of others do not absolve you of your own sins, courier," Graham continued, leisurely retrieving his gun from its holster. He held it up in the muted neon light that filtered through the alley, turning the weapon this way and that. "Though I confess I am also looking for absolution in this way."

"Are you going to kill me?" the courier asked, eyeing the gun as well.

"I've no doubt it would leave this world better than when you walked it," Graham replied. "But my own opinions are not enough to seal your fate. Perhaps we should find this man's family and hear their feelings on the matter."

The courier took a step forward, then another, until their chest was right up against the pistol's muzzle, pressed against the fabric of their shirt. "Go ahead. Try."

And though Joshua Graham was sorely tempted to pull the trigger, though the courier made no move to stop him, something in their eyes... some faraway pain, older than the desert itself, fresh as the blood on the ground, stayed his hand.

He lowered the gun, chastised, and the courier walked away.

Robert House: The Securitron that bore Robert House's face on its screen leveled a minigun at the courier. "Whoa!" the courier protested, dropping their victim and putting their hands out. "Can't we talk about this?"

"And what have we to discuss?" House sounded absolutely disgusted. "I believe you're familiar with my contract with the White Glove Society. If they wish to continue their current prosperity in New Vegas, cannibalism is strictly forbidden. You are subject to the same terms and conditions, as one of my employees."

"Terms and condi- hold on, hold on, you never asked me whether I was a cannibal," the courier replied. "Are you talking about that document you had me sign, way back when I agreed to help you fight the NCR and the Legion?"

"The very same."

"How is that fair? That thing was over 200 pages long, I didn't grow up in the 21st century, I don't have a degree in... okay, okay." The courier waved their hands. "Cannibalism is a no-go. This isn't cannibalism, this is vampirism."

"Which falls under the definition of cannibalism," House replied, his annoyed tone still detectable over the sound of the minigun spinning up. "Section 3.65, subsection F. Next time, read the fine print."

Caesar: The Legion's great leader pivoted in an instant from surprise to quiet anger. "Clean yourself up, courier. I expect to see you in my quarters within the hour."

He turned and left the alley swiftly, letting his powerful stride and swinging cloak cover his shaken confidence. The people of Freeside cowered as he passed, shrinking into the shadows as he made his way back to the Strip, but the fear in their eyes was not enough to erase the image of the courier bent over in bloodlust, holding their victim in total subjugation.

The courier found him on the top floor of the Lucky 38, gazing out over the city he had conquered and named his Rome. "Leave us," Caesar bid his Praetorian Guard. They bowed and departed the room without question.

"You asked to see me," the courier said nervously, shifting their weight from foot to foot. They had changed clothes, and no trace of blood remained on them.

"I did." Caesar beckoned them to the window next to him. They stood in silence for a moment, watching the lights wink below.

"I'm a well-read man, courier," Caesar said finally. "I know the legends of the Old World, and I recognize the marks of one of their nightmares in you. I order you to tell me the truth: Do you fit the full definition of the creature they called 'vampire,' or do you simply mimic the things to add to your fearsome affect?"

The courier didn't answer right away. When they did, their voice was soft. "I pretend to be nothing. I am what I am."

"And everything that comes with it?" Caesar pressed. "Darkness, the blood of the innocent, eternity?"

"Yes."

Caesar turned to face them fully. "Then I, Almighty Caesar, command you to make me as you are."

Yes Man: "Now that's a twist I didn't see coming!" Yes Man said, his happy tone only slightly tempered with uncertainty. "Boy, am I glad I don't have a circulatory system right now!"

The courier shushed the Securitron and looked around the alley surreptitiously. "Yes Man, I swear to god, if you blow my cover I'm disassembling you."

"As I've told you before, I can't technically die!" Yes Man reassured them. "And I certainly wouldn't want to endanger you and your hobbies, but my volume mixer is tied to my enthusiasm simulator and I can't adjust it! You'll just have to hope any passersby aren't interested in following my friendly voice into an alley!"

"Then go back to the Lucky 38 and we'll talk later," the courier insisted, through gritted teeth.

"I technically never left! But if you mean this Securitron, sure thing!" Yes Man zoomed away on his single wheel, whistling the whole way back to the casino where the rest of his consciousness was housed. He kept whistling as he ran probability algorithms, only pausing when the courier returned after a few hours and crossed their arms in front of his main screen.

"Hi there!" he said joyfully. "I've just been cross-checking Mr. House's records on noteworthy disappearances in the Strip, and I've flagged eight of them as potentially being connected to you! I don't want to assume your intentions, but if you don't want to be found out, I've developed a plan for choosing your next victims that will help you remain undetected in New Vegas for 184 years! Give or take a few!"

The courier put their head in their hand and sighed.

[harryspet]

caged bird | s.rogers, p.parker & b.barnes

[Warnings] dark!steve rogers x reader, dark!peter parker x reader, dark!bucky barnes x reader, polyamory, prison au, noncon/dubcon sex, this plot scenario is very unrealistic but oh well,  reader makes a deal so she can survive, hella manipulation, dominants/submissive, oral sex (male recieving), hella angst, shower sex, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK

A/N: this is like a really f’d up situation so enjoy :):):) i also wrote this over the span of two weeks so i’m sorry if the pacing is weird and (also x2) this is nowhere near canon

In which you have to make a deal with three devils in order to survive in The Cage.

word count: 4.8k

main masterlist

Your eyelids were heavy though the bright light outside the bus was forcing you awake. Your limbs shackled to the seat, it reminded you that you had lost your freedom so quickly and that you’d probably never have a good night of sleep ever again, “How long?” Your mouth was dry, the heat from the wasteland you were driving through crept through the window. 

“Twenty minutes, princess,” Officer Rumlow looked you over for the millionth time like you were fresh meat ready for the slaughter. His perceptions weren’t far off and that’s what scared you the most. You weren’t cut out for a place like the Cage. 

A week ago you thought this place was fictional, a nightmare tale that was used to scare the new employees. It was still a nightmare but you were now living in it. You thought your heart might explode out of your chest as the facility finally came into view. Five stories of complete concrete surrounded by two, hundred-foot fences and surrounded by a barren wasteland. 

You were the only one on the bus. The Cage rarely received new inmates due to the nature of crimes that the prison was built for. Vigilantes and government traitors. Many used to consider them heroes but they were unregulated and dangerous. That's how they ended up here and, your boss, Alexander Pierce had sold you out to save himself.

“When … W-When am I going to get my phone call?” You asked as the bus entered the gates of the prison, finally stopping at the processing center. 

Rumlow chuckled, walking over to unchain your shackles from the floor of the bus, “Who are you going to call, princess? Mommy and Daddy?” He grabbed you roughly by your upper arm, pulling you out of your seat and dragging you down the steps of the bus. 

You refused to accept that you had been erased. Your parents probably thought you were only missing, not that you had been wrongly accused of betraying the government and had been thrown into the most dangerous prison in the country. 

“They can’t do this,” You winced as your arm stung, “No trial. No jury. T-This is illegal!”

Rumlow ignored you, and you had to pick up your pace in order to not fall down. Your eyes wandered around, the sun nearly blinding you and stinging your skin at the same time. You noticed in the distance a group of male inmates standing behind a wired fence, wearing the same navy jumpsuit as you, and even from far away, you could see cold and hungry glances. 

You thought you were lucky for a minute since you were a woman but then you remembered what kind of women probably lived here. As you were brought inside, past several guards, through metal detectors and pat-downs. 

When you got to the body cavity search, you expected to part way with Rumlow. Standing in a small, cold room, Rumlow stood in the doorway with his hands casually in the pockets of his pants, “Undress, inmate,” Your eyes widened and you quickly crossed your arms, “Slowly, if you don’t mind.”

“I-I do mind,” You said quickly, “I’m supposed to have a female officer-”

“You don’t get those kinds of privileges in the Cage. We don’t separate inmates by gender,” You shook your head as your eyebrows began to furrow. 

“That’s insane-”

“Undress, inmate,” He said more sternly this time, “Or would you like me to do it for you? You’re lucky I don’t make you put on a show for the rest of the guards.”

You shook your head again, tears starting to form in your tired eyes, “Please don’t-” You tried to plead with him but, as you did, you watched him reach for his baton, “Okay, okay!”

Rumlow smiled a wicked smile, “Good. Bend over and cough, inmate. Let me see that cute, little ass of yours.”

+

When you finally got to see a female officer, she was escorting you to your cell. In your hands, you held the rest of your life which included one more set of clothes, bedding, and a toothbrush. You had to eat what the prison provided and you could only earn extra commissary from working. Hela tried to explain everything to you but you were only latching onto every other world. 

You walked along a slim passageway which had cells to the right and a metal railing to the left. There were three floors of cells and they seemed to go all the way around in a circle. Passed the railing and in the middle of the dome was where it seemed most of the inmates were gathered. 

The shouting, laughing, and fighting echoed through the dome and you couldn’t help but think those calls were for you. You could barely carry your bag of things and walk straight without stumbling. If they couldn’t send your weakness from your appearance then they’d surely sniff it out soon. 

“This can’t be allowed,” You whispered to Officer Hela, though her dark hair mixed with the look of death in her eyes didn’t scream “empathy” to you, “There has to be some sort of rule-”

She stopped in front of an empty, six by eight-foot cell which told you that this would be your new home, “You can sit in solitary if you like,” She spoke coldly, “Your meals get brought to you and you don’t have to deal with the animals in here but there’s no time outside. It’s easy to lose track of the days and forget which voices are real and which ones are inside your head. If you prefer to go insane before you die then I’d recommend that route.”

There wasn’t much of a choice to make and you found your feet moving before your brain could register. You stepped inside the cell, setting down your things on the bottom bunk, “A girl like you is going to need to latch onto a group, pledge your allegiance, and do not let them question your loyalty. They live by a different code here and following it is life or death, do you understand?”

You slowly nodded as you listened and part of you was grateful that she wasn’t completely cold, “T-Thank you-”

She scoffed, “Such a precious little thing … I give you a week,” With that, she turned on her heel and you felt hopeless once again, “I’ll escort you to dinner-”

You shook your head, “I’m not hungry.” You were actually starving but you could not yet face the beast. 

She only shrugged and pulled the door closed. The light above you flickered and you stared back down at your bunk. You were holding back your tears as you tried to make up your bed. Staring at the flimsy mattress material only made you more depressed so you decided just to lay down. Facing the wall, your tired eyes roamed over what was scribbled on the walls. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. is evil. 

S.H.I.E.L.D. is corrupt. 

You hated that the words initially sent a wave of anger through you. You hated that you still felt loyal to that group of monsters. You were a low level worker with good standing and they had just sent you to die?

With your face tucked into your arm, you cried yourself to sleep. 

+

The next day you had no choice but to face your fears. You couldn’t go any longer without food and, in a place like this, you needed to keep your energy up. Before the sun was even out, you heard the mechanical click of the cell door. Your favorite officer, Rumlow, made sure to stop by your cell during roll call. 

“So you decided on general population,” He popped the gum he was chewing, looking you over, “I’m sad to hear it, I was gonna visit you every day in solitary but I guess we’ll get some alone time soon enough.”

You scowled at him and a shiver went through you as he continued pass your cell. You were now grateful that you had chosen general population. 

That feeling didn’t last as inmates started moving from their cells down to breakfast. You stayed back, waiting to slip out of your cell when the crowd had passed. You lingered in the back of the line but no one seemed to notice you until you were in the kitchen line. The first reaction was a quiet murmur that went through the group of (mostly) men at the sight of you. 

You didn’t quite match anyone's stature, not even the women. At least they looked like they could take care of themselves. You were sure that your face probably had dark circles and sunken in features. You looked down when you felt someone's eyes on you and you cringed at every word whispered about you. 

“If I could just get my hands on her …”

“I wonder what a little girl like that could’ve done to get in here.”

“I’d be real gentle with her …” “I wouldn’t … I’d make her scream …”

“Move along,” Hela barked at the inmates in the line. You tried to tune them out as a staff member handed you your tray of food. A stale piece of toast, plastic-looking eggs, peaches, and what looked like could be oatmeal. 

It was when you turned away that you felt a pinch on your bottom. You turned around quickly only to find yourself staring at a chest rather than a face. As you looked up, a man with long, dark black hair stared down at you, “Aren’t you adorable?”

“I said move along, inmates,” You looked towards Hela for some sort of help but didn’t receive any. 

When you looked back again, the man had disappeared. You shook it off, figuring that was the least of what you were about to experience today. As you stepped out into the middle of the dome, you remembered the advice that Hela had managed to give you. 

There were cliques formed at each circular, metal table and you looked each one over as you walked past them. Again, people stared and said vile things but you spotted a table where two women were sitting. They were much older than you but the look you got from them was not maternal in the least. 

“Can I… sit here?” You knew the answer based on their thin-lipped scowls. 

You weren’t like any of them … you were fragile. Besides that, you used to work for S.H.I.E.L.D. and the organization was responsible for locking half of these people away. You kept walking, eventually finding an empty table to sit at. 

All you could think about now was eating. You picked at your tray with your plastic fork, and with each bite of the food you cringed. The toast was also completely rock hard, “It helps if you dip it in water,” Your head snapped up as you felt a shadow over you before someone took a seat beside you. 

You weren’t expecting someone so young and you certainly weren’t expecting a friendly smile. You stared at the handsome man with your mouth agape. You hadn’t realized what he meant until you looked back down at the bread in your hands, “Oh … I doubt anything would make this edible-”

He ran his hand through his light brown hair, before reaching into the pocket of his jumpsuit. On the table in front of you, he placed a twinkie. The entire room seemed to go quiet for a moment and you realized that everyone was watching the two of you. 

“I can’t accept this …”

“Of course you can, it’s no big deal,” His brown eyes pierced into yours as he shrugged, “I’m Peter.”

The sugary, process food was calling your name but you still weren’t sure what his deal was, “T-Thank you,” Not wanting to come off rude, you accepted it, unknowingly beginning to seal your fate, “I’m … I’m-”

“Y/N Y/LN,” He finished for you which left your eyes wide with shock, “You’re already famous. The guards like to gossip and it’s rare we get new inmates so people get curious.”

“Oh,” You shifted uncomfortably in your seat. 

“Don’t worry, some people in here care about your charges, how you got here, but not me,” He tried to reassure you, a smile tugging at his lips, “S.H.I.E.L.D. screwed us all and I don’t think there’s a point in playing who’s the better bad guy.”

You looked around. Now that you knew that people knew your charges and your history, you were starting to feel unsettled. The only thing keeping you grounded was him reassuring you that he didn’t care, “How long-” Your voice came out in a whisper, “How long have you been here?”

Peter took a breath as he thought for a moment, “Few years. Now I kinda forget that I was a normal teenager when this all started.”

Years. And he was a teenager when they brought him here? Did they have no limits to their cruelty?

“God,” You breathed out, overwhelmed, “I don’t think I can … do this-”

Peter reached out, placing a calm hand on your arm, “Hey, hey, you have to survive here. Whether you were meant to be here or not, you have to live like this is your reality. Looking like you’re about to vomit is not a good look to everyone else. I saw Loki over there … he’s an asshole touching you like that  but it’s because he’s already sniffed you out.”

You nodded, trying to stay calm, “But I don’t know how to look … to look less weak.”

“For one, you’re going to have to start eating more and building some muscle,” You could tell by his grip on your arm that he was quite strong, “And the next time someone disrespects you, you have to stand up for yourself. You also can’t just bark like a little chihuahua. Maybe you could pick someone out, someone that you could win in a fight against.”

As Peter started to scan the room, you immediately started shaking your hand, “I can’t just attack someone,” You whisper-shouted, your eyes wide with worry. 

Peter chuckled, “Not with that attitude. Maybe you could go for Heather over there,” He eyed a woman who was practically elderly, “She has a cane so even you could probably overpower though I’ve seen here use the thing as a weapon a few times-”

“Peter,” You spoke sharply, “There has to be another way.”

Peter looked into your eyes and you lost hope for a moment until he seemed to perk up, “I have some friends, we kind of run together in this place, looking out for each other,” Peter explained and you listened intently, hoping for a means of survival that didn’t require attacking an old lady, “I could probably convince them to start looking out for you too. But it won’t be easy, we take loyalty very seriously here, and it wouldn’t be without a cost to you.”

“What sort of cost?”

Peter shrugged, “Could be lots of things. They serve plums on Friday and Bucky loves those so maybe you’d show your support to the group by giving him yours. Something like that,” You followed Peter’s finger as he pointed two men out, one with dark hair and the other with light. Both were built like bodybuilders, “Steve’s a respected leader here and maybe you could help run messages for him.” 

You nodded, “T-That sounds fair,” You paused for a moment as the men eyed you, “And for the twinkie? What do you want?”

“Now you’re starting to get it,” Peter grinned, “Eat it and that means you accept our claim. You’re one of us.”

“Can’t I have time to think about it?” 

Peter seemed to hesitate for the first time, “I’m sure you won’t get a better offer,” Your face fell, “But sure. I’d be quick about it though. Those big, doe eyes aren’t going to work on everybody.”

+

The dark-haired one was following you. Loki, Peter called him, hadn’t taken his eyes off you ever since you parted ways with Peter yesterday. He and his greek god, blonde friend were now walking behind you as you made your way through the halls. They were pushing mop buckets, evidently taking a break from their cleaning duty. 

You had gotten lost trying to find the hospital wing and now you were paying the consequences. 

“Little bird … caged and unprotected,” He taunted you and your heartbeat quickened as you tried to keep from looking back,  “Not even the guards want to save her. Poor thing.”

“It seems she’s in need of protecting, brother.”

“Protecting? If I got my hands on her, the last thing I’d think of is being gentle-”

You turned into the first room you passed, expecting to find somewhere to hide but you only seemed to encounter more people. It was the TV room, a staticy old television airing a baseball game was hanging in the corner of the room, and a bunch of men were sitting at different tables. 

They all turned their heads to you as you interrupted and you immediately recognized the two men from Peter’s loyal “group”. Bucky and Steve. Your heart was out of your chest at the point and you found yourself whispering a “sorry” before turning back towards the door. Loki and his brother, however, were waiting patiently. 

Loki leaned in the doorway, eyeing you like you were fresh meat. 

“Is this jackass bothering you, hon?” Your eyes wide with fear, you quickly realized that it wasn’t Loki taunting you. The dark-haired man’s, you remembered Peter calling him Bucky, voice boomed through the room.

You froze.

“Don’t you have toilets to scrub, Laufeyson?” The light hair man with a thick beard spoke, and by the look on his face you could tell he was a man of power. Not so much power-hungry but someone that demanded respect and often received it. 

Loki scoffed, looking over you again, “As far as I know, this one is free territory.”

“Well, this room is my territory and guess where she happens to be standing,” Loki’s jaw clenched at Steve’s words. 

“C’mere, hon,” Bucky spoke to you, signaling to cross the room. She hesitated but only for a moment as you realized your choices were Peter’s friends or letting Loki, have you. You crossed the room cautiously towards them, everyone now looking at you. You paused awkwardly in front of the table but a small yelp left your lip as Bucky grabbed you by the arm, spinning you into his lap. 

“See,” Steve said as you uncomfortably tried your best not to squirm, “Don’t touch things that aren’t yours, Laufeyson.”

You felt a hand clench your thigh and cringed.

“Aye, aye, Captain.”

As soon as Loki stormed away, you stood up, brushing whatever wrinkles had formed in your jumpsuit. Amused, Bucky smiled at you, “You could at least thank us,” Bucky leaned forward and you tried not to scowl. 

“Thank you,” You whispered. 

“Good girl,” Bucky smirked. 

“Lang, get Y/N a chair,” Steve ordered another man in the room. He was quick to obey the command and, even though you were in a new place, you felt you’d been transported into an entirely new planet. 

“You don’t have to-”

“Sit,” Steve said as the chair was placed beside you, “You can leave when you give us an answer to the offer Peter mentioned yesterday.”

You had thought long and hard about Peter’s offer and decided last night that you wanted to reject it. It wasn’t until now that you realized your decision was a mistake. There was no telling when you’d be getting out of this place, Peter had been here for years, and it seemed you were already a target. 

You’d even heard a rumor that the guards placed bets on how long you’d survive in here. 

“Yes …” You nodded your head, “That’s my answer.”

Steve's lips pulled into a small grin as he eyed his friend across the table, “Good choice, doll.”

+

A week later and you were still alive and relatively untouched. Bucky was quite handsy but Peter reminded you that it was just protocol. Everyone had to know that you were a part of their group and that, if you were harmed, they’d have to deal with Steve and his minions. 

Like Peter said, there were quite a few sacrifices you had to make. Your new job in the kitchen allowed you to provide the group with all the food they wanted and when you weren’t working, you were running errands for Steve. You got an idea of all the inmate leaders and how they functioned as a society. 

Steve seemed to be at the very top and you realized the possible consequences of crossing someone like him. Still, you felt more pampered than like you were a part of some elaborate prison gang. Most of your wishes were theirs to grant. 

They let you watch whatever you wanted in the TV room. Bucky always called you pet names that you were starting to grow fond of. Steve had some pull with the guards so Rumlow was never around to bother you anymore. Peter even found you a set of paints to occupy your time in your cell. As long as you followed them around like their cute little puppy, they were quite nice to you. 

“C’mon, run a lap with me. You gotta build your strength,” Peter asked you, his face sweaty and shining under the baking sun. He was shirtless, the shirtsleeves of his uniform wrapped around his waist, and his magnificent physique was on display just like Steve and Bucky’s. During rec time in the courtyard, you’d become accustomed to standing by the fence and watching them lift weights. 

“I’m good, thanks,” You smiled awkwardly, “I get tired just from watching you guys.”

“Peter’s right,” Steve let out a breath as he dropped his hundred-pound dumbbell.

“I just …” Your voice trailed off as Steve eyed you with his strong gaze. You knew that what he said goes but you were growing nervous, “I don’t want to get sweaty.”

“You’re serious?” Bucky chimed in, a curious look on his face. 

“Is that like a girl thing I don’t know about?” Peter flashed you an amused look and your cheeks began to heat with embarrassment. 

“Y/N?” Steve could see that you were hiding something.

You crossed your arms, sighing, “I just don’t want to have to shower, okay?”

“You haven’t showered since you’ve been here?” Peter asked incredulously. 

“I have!” You quickly defended yourself, “I mean, I’ve just been using the sink in my cell.”

“I see what this is about,” Bucky had a knowing look on his face, “Dollface is scared of the communal showers.”

Peter’s mouth formed the shape of an “o” as he realized what was going on. You still felt so embarrassed. It was yet another thing that made you seem totally defenseless. 

“Is that true?” Steve asked and you were beginning to feel overwhelmed by their concerned gazes, “Why didn’t you tell us? Next time, one of us will keep watch for you. No one’s gonna bother you.”

Maybe it was the isolation or the fact that your life would never be the same again. Maybe it was the fact that you’d never see your family again or that you cried yourself to sleep every night. That might be the reason you felt that they genuinely cared for you and why you wanted to fully embrace the comfort that they were providing. 

Maybe that was why you wanted to belong to them. 

+

For the first time, you were reminded of your old life. You weren’t sure how long you’d lost yourself under the water, letting time get away from you, as the warm water cascaded along your skin. The showers had a sorry excuse for water pressure and, despite the creepiness of the beige tiles and flickering light above, when you closed your eyes you were in paradise. 

“All clean, beautiful?” Bucky’s voice brought you out of your trance. Suddenly you were back in the square room with showerheads lining each wall. You wiped the water from your eyes before turning off the water. 

“Y-Yes, I’m almost done!” You shouted back, grabbing your towel from off the hook. You pressed it to your face, drying your skin. You were quite grateful that they’d taken the extra steps to make you feel protected, “Bucky-”

As you turned around, that feeling of gratitude quickly turned to something resembling fear. He was supposed to wait for you outside the bathroom and yet, there he was, only three feet away from you. 

“What are you-”

He looked over you hungrily and you pressed your towel closer to your body, “You have no idea how long it's been since I’ve been with a beautiful woman like you … Steve too. And Peter, he’s just learning the ropes.”

You took a step back, towards the wall, and as you did you caught a glimpse behind Bucky’s towering figure. Both Steve and Peter were here, stalking closer. 

“You said you’d protect me…” Your voice cracked, your hands beginning to shake. 

“We will,” Steve spoke, determined, “No one else but us will touch you.”

“Nothing in here is without a cost, Y/N,” Peter seemed a bit solemn like his current life was not what he wanted it to be but he was just as hungry, if not more, as Bucky. 

Bucky grabbed you then, his eyes impatient, and you wrestled for your towel for only a moment before he easily snatched it away from you. A helpless squeal left your mouth as he grabbed you by the arm with one hand and placed his other hand between your legs. He grabbed your thigh tightly and as his hand moved further up, you found yourself paralyzed. 

“Good girl. You’re going to take all of us,” Bucky spoke quietly, shushing you, his grip growing tighter and tighter. Before you knew it, all three of them were surrounding you, their curious hands wandering over your wet skin. Grabbing your breast, your thighs, turning your face to bite at your neck. 

“Get on your knees,” Steve grunted against your ear, growing impatient like his friend. 

When you didn’t move, Peter was the one to push you down onto the cold floor. You hiccuped, trying not to hyperventilate as they overwhelmed you from each side. As they all started to pull down their clothes, you made one final attempt at trying to crawl away. 

Steve grabbed you by your throat, making your efforts futile, pushing your face towards his crotch. You felt it, hard and throbbing against your cheek, “Open up, don’t make this hard, doll,” Through the corner of your eye, you saw Bucky stroking his own length, waiting patiently for his turn. 

Steve grabbed you by your hair next, pressing your closed lips against his tip. He forced himself in your mouth, “There you go,” Steve grunted, pushing himself deeper, “Move that tongue around.”

Steve Rogers could make your life a living hell in the Cage. Was this really the price you had to pay in order to survive here? You couldn’t imagine it being any worse than this but Steve could make that possible. That’s why you started to swirl your tongue like he said, deciding that their orgasms would end your pain. 

Bucky was much rougher than Steve, pinching your nose closed and enjoying watching your eyes widen and water. He practically touched the back of your throat and still commanded you to stroke Peter and Steve’s cocks with your hands while you took him in your mouth. Somehow, you managed. 

Peter was much more gentle and you were grateful for that. His hands rested softly on the back of your head, guiding your mouth slowly up and down his length, “God, this is awesome,” He cursed, his head tilting back as he enjoyed the stimulation. When he finally finished, his warmth filled your mouth and before you could spit or catch your breath, Bucky grabbed you again. 

He came so far down your throat that you were forced to swallow it but, unlike him, Steve took his time, “This little mouth. Is ours. Every single hole. Is ours. No one else, do you understand?” With each sentence, he thrust hard until he filled your mouth. You leaned over, coughing as you felt the stinging of your sore throat. 

You were about to collapse onto the dirty cold floor when gentle arms lifted you up into a broad chest. You found yourself not fighting, only pressing your face into Bucky’s chest as you began to sob. 

Steve didn’t have to say anything more. You understand your new position and there wasn’t anyone else there to save you from that fate. 

That night you learned there was a change to your cell assignment. You’d sleep in Steve’s arms, a little bird that was safe and protected in it’s cage. 

+

hope you enjoyed!! i’m posting this instead of sleeping because I have class in this morning :) 

[vvanillavveins]

This one is such a cool idea, thank you for tagging me!! I am sorry this is so late- I had to actually sit & think about this for a good 2-3 days because damn it's difficult.

I had to talk through each one in order to work out an order, so i'm sorry for the incoming rambling if anyone reads this-

oh god oh fuck

1. The Vast, I think? - Open spaces? My own insignificance? Incomprehensible giant creatures?- Couldn't care less, actually, almost boring, in fact. Heights?- Love the adrenaline rush, can't get enough of them. However, my one & only life-long phobia is deep water. If you asked me what would be the worst possible thing that you could ever do to me, i'd say it'd be leaving me to tread water in the middle of the ocean. I can't even look at paintings of deep water without my pulse increasing. Those really cool little diorama things people make with the resin fake water? I stop being able to breathe when i look at them. No idea why. Phobias are just weird like that.

2. The Corruption - idk if its sensory issues or what but if i find bugs in my house i feel itchy and hot and start tearing at my skin and it's just awful.

3. The Eye - i don't like being watched. Being watched by The Eye means never truly being alone again & i need to be alone to keep sane.

4. The Desolation - on one hand, losing everything would be quite freeing. On the other hand, everyone around me being hurt isn't fair- if it's my fear then i should be the only one suffering.

5. The Extinction - like the Desolation, more depressing than scary. I think life in an apocalyptic wasteland would be way too monotonous for me though.

6. The Web - i can't handle change, so completely losing control of everything would not end well, lmao.

7. The Buried - i feel pretty neutral about all the physical manifestations of this one. It's the financial element that makes it stressful.

8. The Dark - eh, i've never been scared of the dark & i can't see very well in most light anyway. TMA is just really well written; it's the one of the only things that've made me understand why people fear the dark.

9. The End - again, no real strong feelings about this one. The lack of proper action is a bit tedious. But overall it just kinda feels comforting, in a way? I like the security/reliability of it. Also, i'm a massive coimetrophile.

10. The Hunt - i like adrenaline; i really love the feeling of being chased. Even if i logically understand that it's a matter of survival, some part of my brain still goes, "ooo what a fun ✨️game✨️", lmao.

11. The Slaughter - being chased is a game, so i'll run- but unless i am actually told to, running just doesn't naturally occur to me. Most of the time when i'm presented with an actual threat i skip past fear and go straight to anger. It's foolhardy, sure, but how dare anything have the audacity to think it can threaten me? I'm not saying I'd win a fight with a Slaughter avatar, but i would try. I think being a masochist helps.

12. The Spiral - less of a threat and more of just a continuation of my everyday life, i'm not sure what would change tbh. I do like liminal spaces, though, so that's a plus. Also, i feel like a Spiral avatar would be quite good company for a brain like mine- i could quite happily just chatter at them without having to over-explain & redefine everything.

13. The Flesh - gore & viscera are satisfying, and i honestly think i'd give anything for limitless body modification.

14. The Lonely - what makes the Lonely so appealing to me is how it isolates you; it either strands you in empty places or it replaces the people around you. If there's no one to reach out to, then you can't do anything to fix your loneliness. Never being able to form genuine connections with others is painful, but the Lonely would help get rid of the initial desire for connection. I think the Lonely would help me be much more at peace with myself.

15. The Stranger - i don't fear the Stranger because, ironically, it's the most familiar one. And i know for sure i could survive whatever it can throw at me; i already can't read faces or voices, i've already forgotten entire people like they were just deleted from my memory & i don't experience the uncanny valley effect- so it wouldn't get any fear from me anyway. Hell, in my lowest most paranoid moments, i've genuinely believed that my loved ones were replaced by shapeshifters. But i'm still here after all of that shit- so bring it on! Tbh, if i encountered the Stranger i'd probably ask to join it. It'd be nice if i could actually gain something from people's uneasiness around me. And the whole 'circus of the other' thing sounds like my childhood dreams come true, lmfao. 100% fuck yeah category material

fuck yeah

i ranked the tma fears from scariest to least scariest because i felt like it. no pressure but reblog with your rankings i wanna see!

oh god oh fuck

1. the corruption

2. the desolation

3. the hunt

4. the buried

5. the web

6. the extinction

7. the slaughter

8. the stranger

9. the dark

10. the flesh

11. the lonely

12. the eye

13. the end

14. the vast

15. the spiral

fuck yeah

tagging a couple of my moots if you wanna try :D

@encryptidarchivist @humanteethmarksonhumanbone @willdisappearintothelonely @styrofoamdoor @urnewsteppappa