#repurpose hordes

[residentialrabbit]

Doodled a Villain!Noel and Protector!Hordes from my Dark Prince AU (an extension to Noel's bad end).

[aroacenezhaanddainsleif]

(resetting Repurpose bc i feel bad about hurting Hordes)

these bitches aren't the only ones that can reset time!!!!!

[rw-repurposed]

Giving Pebbles a shotgun to fend off the horde

RCW: -Last read 5 hours ago- UC: -Last read 5 hours ago-

[banj0possum]

The Zombie Song by Stephanie Mabey

this song reminds me of the zombie horde! (Love your art and writing by the way!) i was wondering what if we found a radio and fixed it and this song played! How would the boys react? (You don’t have to respond if you don’t want too)

Zombie Horde and a Radio!!

Zombie Horde x GN! Reader

💀 You found a radio once during one of your scavenging runs in an old tech store and it's just been sitting on your desk for years now.

💀 Soda asked about it once and you told him it used to play music and podcasts and all that mess and he was hooked.

💀 He snatched it once while you were asleep and showed it to the others.

💀 You came out to Bo and Soda holding back Ribs from breaking open the radio while Screw screams to not hurt the little people in the box.

💀 Please protect them they share like 2 braincells.

💀 But after a while, your post-apocalyptic world started to get back on its feet. Civilization is rebuilding and people are learning to live with the mutated monsters of the surface.

💀 This meant the old radio station in your town has been repurposed and even used again.

💀 Hearing the news, you head to your old radio that Ribs and Screw were playing tea party with and pop in a few batteries.

💀 It came out as static at first but with a few dial twists and smacks it began playing a song.

💀 You recognize it as The Zombie Song by Stephanie Mabey and the two zombies beside you can't help but gurgle and squeal in happiness.

💀 Bo and Soda come a little later and listen in too, Bo of course draping an arm over your shoulder.

💀 Ribs would be headbanging a little to the music because he's a little stinker what do you expect from him.

💀 Then on you'd get occasional asks from them to use the radio.

💀 Bo uses it mostly for the news or to hear other people talk, he wants to work on his speaking for you <333

💀 Ribs loves rock music, doesn't know why but it rattles his bones whenever a guitar solo plays.

💀 Soda and Screw listen to pop music together, hates it when it goes to advertisements (apparently those still exist..)

💀 But their favorite song will forever be The Zombie Song, they can't help but think of you when they hear it! ^^

sorry this one isnt very long but this request blasted me with nostalgia so here you go :00000

[barleyo]

Prom Queen. (Re-upload)

Real Dad! Leon Kennedy X F! Reader (smut)

A/N: tumblr took this down. I'm re-uploading it because idgaf. No tags because I'm lazy, read at your own risk. Obviously reader is of age, and obviously, if you DON'T LIKE what I write, DON'T READ what I write, thanks :3

DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT AHEAD

You had always dreamed about your senior prom. Even as a young girl, you thought exhaustively about how the night would go. You would wear a gorgeous gown, drink spiked punch, dance and laugh with friends, and most importantly, you would go with a cute boy.

Those dreams fell flat when your strict father outlawed prom for you. He said that prom was just an opportunity for hyped up, hormonal teens to gyrate on each other on school property. Prom was a night where girls opened their legs for their subpar dates who barely made the effort to scrounge up a corsage for them. Prom was the chance for unwanted, "happy accident" babies to be made by teenaged fuck-ups.

In short, prom was for whores. Leon would be damned if he would have a nasty whore of a daughter. It made him sick to even think of you wasting your sweet, nearly virginal body on a shit-for-brains boy whose only sexual experience no doubt came from his own right hand.

So, yeah. Prom was a nonstarter.

Of course, this angered you to no end. You could be heard sobbing each night after Leon's declaration of war on you having any fun was drawn up, but a small part of you thought it was the best.

You knew that prom wasn't like how it was shown in the movies. You wouldn't get an invitation from the hottest boy in school, you wouldn't get there in a decked out limo, and the punch would be lukewarm and watered down at best.

You wouldn't dance: you would have no one to dance with. You would sit alone at one of the tables eating fun sized candy bars aimlessly scattered on the repurposed lunch room tables in your school's gymnasium, while a horde of your peers would dance nasty on each other, being free and young.

The whole time, nobody would look at you, aside from the sly glance paired with a snicker shared between two gossiping teens, indulging in the rumors that floated around about you.

Nobody would want to dance with the girl who had an overprotective daddy that fucked her. Especially when that girl liked it.

The more you thought about it, the more you came to peace with the idea of staying in with Leon. Technically, being demanded to stay at home with him meant that you were sort of, kind of asked on a "date" with a hot guy, even if you shared DNA with said hot guy.

On the day of the dance, Leon had the decency to let you skip school. You sulked in bed the entire day, thinking about what could have been, rather than what was. He did not bother you, having enough sense to let a sleeping dog lay, but at exactly 10:00 PM , you felt your phone ding under your pillow.

'Come downstairs. Wear a dress. Not one of your church ones.'

His texts were always sharp and to the point, just like he was. Commanding. Strict.

You, as always, obliged. You put on one of his favorites, the one that always left his eyes lingering on your body a little too long. As you made your way down the stairs, you heard the faint sound of romantic music playing in the living room, which you naturally followed like a trail of breadcrumbs.

"Dad, what's all this?"

Your living room looked like a scene stripped from a cheesy romance movie. Rose petals scattered on the floor, lights dimmed low, and a tall, hot stud in the midst of it all. Your father's face was stern, but past that you could see the inkling of excitement in him.

"Your prom. I know it meant a lot to you," he said gruffly, adjusting the collar of the nice shirt he wore, "so I did what I could. Hope this'll make you forgive me."

Your feet pattered softly against the cool flooring, bringing your body along with them. You took a final look around the room and let your eyes lock onto your dad.

"I do. S'okay, I'm not mad at you, daddy."

How could you ever be mad at him? Your perfectly stubborn, grouchy, yet sexy father? Your father who—

"You know I just want the best for you, right peach?" Leon grasped you in his arms, snaking both arms around your lower waist while he rested his chin on your head. "Just wanna keep you safe."

"I know."

You both stood like that for a moment, neither speaking. The soft sound of the music slowly playing in the background was the only noise filling your sense. Well, that and the husky sound of your father's breathing. And his manly, leathery scent. His strong hands placed on your body, too.

You heard him clear his throat briefly and snapped to give him your attention, something you found yourself doing often. He liked when you listened to him quickly, made him feel respected.

"May I have this dance?" Leon asked, giving you a rare smirk when you nodded.

One of his hands stayed on your waist, while the other took your hand gently and clasped it in the air, leading you into a sweet waltz. With each step, he guided you with rigid, calculated movements. His movements were neat, as if he had been planning every moment of your shared dance.

The longer you danced with him, the closer your bodies pressed together, creating a faint friction between the two of you. In that moment, any negative emotion you had felt before faded away, leaving only the image of him in your mind.

Leon knew your signs. He'd spent a long time decoding them, and the look on your face was one he read easily. With a tilt of his head, he leaned in, a soft chuckle escaping his lips when he felt your increased heartbeat against his chest.

You made the first real move, pushing your tongue deeper into his mouth. Kisses were the only time he let you take on a dominant role. He thought it was cute, feeling your smaller tongue fuck into his mouth like you were in charge. Not wanting to spoil your fun, he softly guided you backwards to the wall, giving him a surface to work with.

"You're a bold one, I'll give you that," he said, breaking the kiss. "Can't ever actually ask for what you want, but you go wild once you get it, don't you?"

You hummed, letting him pull you up and wrap your legs around his waist. His hand slid under your dress and pushed it up, giving him a view of your panties.

"God, you're soaked. So wet f'me." Leon stuck his fingers in his mouth, slurping on them and covering them with spit before he forced them past the band of your underwear. Tight, quick circles were made around your clit, denying you of any time to think. "Nobody else can play with this, you hear me? This is all mine, you don' let anybody else have you," his voice was a warm whisper that fanned across your ear.

"I promise, 'm all yours. Don't want anyone else, only you, daddy," you swore desperately, meaning every word even if it sounded like you were just babbling on.

"Fuckin' slut." He spit a fat glob onto his fingers and spread it around your cunt, lubing you up. "Thought I raised a sweet girl. Bet you act like this for the boys at school too, huh?" Your panties were slid to the side.

His teeth clenched together jaggedly as he prodded the tip of his cock at you entrance, drawing in a deep breath when he pushed it fully in.

"No, never! I don't want any of them, just want you. They aren't good enough."

"Yeah? Greedy little cunt only wants her daddy, is that right?" The ego boost he was getting from this ran through him immediately. He wound your clit up with his thumb, quickly zigzagging on the little bud to match his thrusts. "Good. They don't deserve to feel you—"

You cunt fluttered around his length at his words, leaving him biting down on his lip.

"Just like that. Gonna make me cum if you keep that up, baby."

Your mouth hung open, pathetic mewls leaking from it. Each sound he drew out of you was nearly pornographic. He bullied your guts and hit deep, far deeper than your fingers ever could, and left you far more needy than your digits did.

"Inside this time?" You had wanted it so bad for the longest time, and instead he would pull out of you and coat your soft tummy or the fat of your ass with his ropes. "I need to feel it, please. I don't wanna be empty again, jus' fill me up," you slurred, drool spilling from the corner of your plush mouth.

"Yeah," he huffed, nodding along with you words, ready to finally jump at the opportunity, "yeah, inside. I need it too, baby, you have no idea. Daddy wants to spoil you real bad, he wants to give you all the babies you want."

Your lower body tensed, squeezing him tightly as the familiar rhythmic pattern of your orgasm set in. It felt so right in that moment, like your body was made for this exact purpose: being a warm hole for your dad to fill with his hot cum.

"Ready?" He said it more like a demand than a question, and within seconds he was creaming into you, still pounding your cunt like he hated you. "Take it, don't spill."

He kept his dick sheathed away inside of you, hoping that if he kept most of his cum in you, it would take. His brow was slick with sweat and his face was flushed. He had never looked so attractive before.

You ran your hand through his hair to get his attention. When he darted his eyes up to you, you mumbled something about wanting to go again.

"Anything for you baby. Night's still young, isn't it? We got time."

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

I've been dreaming of the Ruler of the Abyss.

Kneel to the Thorn Fairy, who shall make manifest one’s dreams—the wishes made by the heart.

He promises happy endings for all. Woe to those who doubt and defy his vision.

How does a moment last forever? How can a story never die?

Alone.

He has always been alone.

But alone he is no longer—not when he is in his castle, surrounded by hordes of his people. He will never be alone again. No one will, all thanks to his efforts.

Never, never, never.

Malleus easily traverses the thorn-crusted lounge, floating across them like a specter. The bodies of school staff and fellow students lie limp in chairs and couches. Eyes closed, chests rising and falling rhythmically.

As he passes, he runs a hand along their scalps. Brushing their hair, patting their heads. Tender touches wishing them well.

Here is a king's domain, and here are his subjects. He, the dragon guarding his trove of invaluable treasures.

Malleus turns to face his captive audience, arms spread out toward them. “Today is something of a special occasion: Night Raven College’s Founding. I do believe this warrants a celebration—and, of course, all are invited to the festivities.”

A wave of magic washes over the room. Conical party hats manifest on each person's head, decorations appearing from thin air. Banners drape across the walls, streamers spill from black-clothed tables laden with food, and balloons tuck into the corners, safe from the needle-like thorns.

He projects applause, stunned oohs and aahs. Here, he is not a monster, but fellow man.

"Hmm, we're still missing something." Malleus strokes his chin, deep in thought. He snaps his fingers. "Ah, that's it! Music. It's not a proper party without any music."

With the wave of his hand, he summons a series of floating instruments. Bass, cello, viola, violin, harp, each bathed in an eerie green glow. They start playing by themselves, as if being handled by skillful, invisible hands.

Soft orchestral song fills the venue.

The guests rise, puppeted by the strings of his magic. Thorns on the floor retreat, allowing his peers to spill over onto the area repurposed for dance. Heads loll over--Malleus frowns and fixes them.

"There we are."

A glittering assemblage.

He smoothly conducts the bodies into neat pairs.

A waltz, he thinks, is ideal. It is also one of the few forms of dance he is familiar with. A waltz it shall be.

Palms link, fingers intertwine. Hands upon shoulders and upon backs. And then they are set to the hypnotic swing of the music, slow and sweet and intoxicating, like a steady drip of honey into one's mouth.

Malleus threads past the avid dancers and to the one person that has not been matched. The little bat who had almost flown away, far out of his grasp.

"Lilia," Malleus breathes raptly, "look at how happy everyone is. No one was left out. No one was forgotten. No one has to be alone anymore."

With this gift... my blessing... I've protected their smiles.

The duty of any Draconia.

He's proud--elated--but Lilia, alas, does not share the sentiment. Instead, the ancient fae wears a placid expression, eyes sewn shut. The same as all the other guests.

Malleus chuckles. No one hears it but himself.

"How exciting your dream must be. Action and adventure, at the best of your strength... I'm afraid this humble gathering cannot compare."

He’s sure Lilia would agree with him, were he awake.

“Never mind that," Malleus says, dispelling the thought. No more what ifs, only there ares. "Would you care for food? You'll need to keep your energy up for the celebration--it just may last all night."

He beckons with a finger, and a platter with a large cake hovers over. It is an extravagant seven layers, each a different flavor. Details are piped on in buttercream icing, invoking the image of each dormitory. A chocolate raven, wings open and prepared for flight, crowns the dessert.

A cake knife slides into Lilia's hand. His fingers slowly closer around the handle. With Malleus's guidance, he cuts into the topmost layer--Diasomnia--of the cake.

Something thick, red, and sticky leaks from the insides. The knife is coated as it is pulled back, freeing a slice. The violet crumb is fine, the frosting neon green with a dark chocolate drip.

Devilishly decadent.

"Come, you must try this," Malleus insists, stabbing a fork into the cake. He stuffs the bite into Lilia's mouth--but it doesn't stay, just rolls out and lands with a squishy splat on the ground.

Malleus eagerly waits for Lilia to beam at him, to praise him for its deliciousness.

It never comes.

Malleus laughs as though Lilia has responded as he imagines him to. He's drunk with delirium.

The strings abruptly screech, the dancers ceasing in their revelry.

He lets the unfinished slice fall. The plate shatters, reflecting one hundred Malleuses, one hundred Lilias. So many realities, and yet this is the one he has been dealt.

He guides the corners of Lilia's mouth upward, forcing a smile.

"Happy Night Raven College Founding Day," Malleus whispers, "and may you all have the sweetest of slumbers."

To his guests, to Lilia, to himself. And to the world that will soon be joining them in this delightful, never-ending dream.

Raising a hand, he unleashes fireworks from his palm. They explode in wild shapes and colors, emitting warmth and dazzling lights. The display is beautiful but fleeting--long shadows running along the walls before they blip out of existence and return to the darkness.

Every dream is like a firework, he surmises. A fiery flower frozen in time at the height of its bloom. They shall never wither nor fade.

Malleus reclines into his seat--a spiked and scaled throne, mounted high above the party venue. A lone king, untouchable.

Seated upon a mountain of lies, he looks out at his twisted kingdom. It’s a scene of his own creation, props lovingly places and toys carefully posed, acting out situations in his head.

The average school day at Night Raven College: students bickering, teachers watching over them. They see him, smile and wave. Talk with him, invite him.

Stay with him.

A loop playing, forever and ever.

Malleus sighs contentedly.

This is his happily ever after—from now until the end of eternity.

[flowerbetweenfangs]

Love Bite

6.2k words.

CW: Dead lover (although not seen dead), general zombie/undead activities. While the ghouls are sapient/pass the harkness test, they are made up of an amalgamation of human bodies. If that disturbs you, I would skip this one.

Disclaimer: I haven't seen/played or consumed any Fallout media, these ghouls aren't like those (at least not intentionally). They're more like Frankenstein's monsters,/the ghouls from Tokyo Ghoul with a more spiritual connection.

Summary: A woman goes to the undead base on feeding night to get some answers... And maybe more from their leader.

This was originally written as a script, and I've repurposed it as a short story. I hope the switch works.

The radio had been blaring for hours, warning that it was feeding night. While most of the undead would be confined to hallowed ground, a few stragglers had been spotted roaming the streets. It wasn’t unheard of for a living human to be on the receiving end of a life changing, or ending, bite. The only people out were the Cleaners, driving slowly in armored vehicles, coming out in special suits that, supposedly, a ghoul couldn’t bite through.

You had managed to avoid being seen by both, ducking around corners and sprinting past streetlights. The belt around your waist was heavy, but filled with the items needed to fend off an undead that ventured too close. They had formed a shaky peace with the humans who occupied the town, offering their services as both mediums and mercenaries. Tougher than the average human, with a connection to the veil between life and death. Their prices were never cheap, of course, but it seemed to be something people would pay for.

In return, they were allowed free run once a night to feast. Although if the rumors were true, then the ghouls would also pay for access to fresh meat outside of the allotted date. The same thing that brought them to life wouldn’t last forever, and there were whispers of the undead showing up with fresher body parts than they had previously.

Nothing official, of course. But rumors, like hordes, spread fast and couldn’t be contained for long.

You weren’t sure if them eating the living or using their bodies for… Bodies was worse.

As you passed another armored truck, two Suits scraped up a mishmash of ghoul and its victim. Both had lost the fight.

Pushing it out of your mind, you swallowed and steeled yourself for what was to come.

The moon had reached its high point when you arrived at the cathedral. Iron gates surrounded it on all sides. You could see Roamers out front, moaning in their own language with an occasional bit of the local tongue slipped in. Judging by how human their bodies still looked, they must have been recently turned.

Walking around, you found a hole in the fence and wriggled under it. Your belt caught, stopping you against where sidewalk met grass. Pulling a baton free, you clutched it one hand, and unclipped the belt with the other.

As fast as you could, you crawled under the pickets, wincing as your shirt snagged on one and ripped. With the moaning and groaning in the background, you hoped the sound was masked. Sucking in your stomach, you wriggled under and quickly yanked the belt after you, quickly putting it back on before standing.

A paper fell out of your unbuttoned pouch, and you snatched it up, trying to shove the contents back inside while keeping your head on a swivel.

Keeping the baton out, you stared at the stained glass windows. Once upon a time, they had shown images of doves, holy books, and saints. Now, they showed the undead, brought to life by a mixture of science and a bit of magic. Some said they were the second coming, but you didn’t believe it.

Gritting your teeth, you made a beeline for the side door. The front was filled with the roamers. A few were passed out on the ground, chests rising and falling with the memory of breathing.

It took all your self-control not to turn around and go through the hole you came through.

It was all going well, until you felt a wet spot on the back of your shirt. Pausing, you put a hand to the spot, and pulled away your fingers, heart leaping in your throat when you saw they came away red.

Blood.

A warm summer breeze hit you, and the creaking of ancient bones filled the air as the roamers turned in your direction. Cloudy eyes squinted as nostrils flared. Clutching the baton, you ran to the side door.

The handle felt slick in your grasp as you fumbled with it. As you tugged, the sound of metal scraping on metal seemed so loud, no doubt alerting the hoard of your presence if your blood already hadn’t.

Some shuffled toward you, heads tilted to the side as they seemed to take you in, But before you could get a better look, you yanked the door open and ran inside, slamming it behind you.

A few candles lit up the hallway as florescent lights flickered above enough to give you pause. Panting, you clutched the weapon tighter as you waited for something to burst from the darkness.

Something instead hit the door behind you, spurring you forward. Casting a glance over your shoulder, you saw a few staring at you through the glass. Sweaty palm prints pressed against the pane as they leaned against it. Black fluid seeped from lips as they sniffed.

Backing away, you had barely turned around when you nearly slammed into a figure in the dark. You took a swing, feeling it connect. A grunt told you it made an impact. The scent of posies and peppermint filled your nose, making your hair stand on end.

Then, a large hand wrapped around your arm, twisting it to make you drop the weapon, Your body turned with it, dumping a few of your belt’s contents onto the floor. Before your arm snapped, you saw the amber eyes, a signature of the resurrected dead.

He sniffed, the ichor seeping from his lips. Unlike the Roamers outside, it was less viscous and more of a dark grey as opposed to pure black.

You brought your hand back to strike him, but he let go, sending you to the floor in a heap. Before you could get your bearings, he reached down and picked up the paper.

“You’re here to see Romero?” His teeth looked like they had been filed to a point. His grey tongue stewed in more drool.

The raspy voice sent another chill up your spine. Sure, ghouls could speak, but it was one thing to hear it over a radio or television, another thing to hear it in person.

“Y-yeah.” You managed to say, eyeing your weapon. As you inched toward it, you felt your stomach drop as the creature’s hand grabbed your shoulder, then slid down to your bicep.

Unceremoniously hauled to your feet, you winced and waited for the bite….

But it never came. 

“Very well….” He started to walk, all but pulling down the hallway. To keep yourself from being dragged, you regained your footing and did your best to match the much larger man’s pace.

When you both came to double doors leading the auditorium, you saw the name plate.

Romero.

The ghoul knocked on the door, his meaty fist making it echo in the empty hall. You squinted, half expecting more undead to come scrambling out of the dark and to devour you.

“Enter.” A voice called from on the other side of the door. It was muffled, but your heart still skipped a beat at how… Familiar it sounded.

Your escort opened the door. The creaking drug out, and your heart skipped a beat to see…

A man you’d never seen before. The scarred, mismatched skin of a ghoul covered his body, along with the split coloring of black and white on his scalp, one half straight, the other curly. His attire was a suit, pressed, with a bright red tie.

He was sat at a desk next to the pulpit, flipping through a file. Classical music softly played on a record player, not audible beyond the room.

“Leave us, please.” He didn’t look up from his file.   

The escort’s grip on your arm loosened. Hot breath stirred at your neck, and you turned at the last second, seeing his opened mouth mere inches from your shoulder.

“Get your mouth away from her.” The file hit the desk, scattering a few loose pieces of paper. Romero finally looked up, eyes shimmering in the candlelight.

Your escort stepped away, wiping his mouth and slurping down the drool.

“How would you like it if someone gave you a plate of food they’d taken a bite out of?” Romero’s eyes narrowed, and he snapped his fingers, pointing to the door.

“Sorry boss, won’t happen again.”

 “Make sure of it.” Romero followed him to the door. The creaking of his joints made you grit your teeth. His movements were just slow enough to look strange. How long had it been since you fed? Your eyes flicked to the desk again, where you saw a plate, only juices remaining of what he’d been eating.

Swallowing, you stood up straight, trying to not show fear.

Romero closed the door, turning the lock and hanging the key on a nail next to it.

“So.” He deeply sighed, closing his eyes. Veins protruded from his skin, slithering across his brow and cheeks. “You’ve come to the cathedral during feeding night.”

He opened his eyes, the veins stopped squirming, and he began to walk toward you, hands clasped behind his back. When he stopped, the scent of peppermint rolled over you. Sweat beaded on your upper lip as you swallowed, trying to not spit as the scent burrowed its way into your mouth and tongue.

“I’m amazed the horde didn’t take you at the gate.” He towered over you, eyes tracking back and forth as he sized you up.

Your breath caught in your throat as memories flooded back. Those eyes… So long ago.

They looked at you with love.  

“Relax.” He turned to the side and waved a dismissive hand through the air, as if trying to rid himself of a bad smell. “I’m not fond of eating someone whose mind would be a detriment to my intellect.”   

“A detriment?” You raised a brow, shaking the thoughts from your mind. Right. The creature in front of you was a thief!

“That’s how I would describe your actions. Too stupid to live.” He unfolded the piece of paper, staring at the flyer and rolling his eyes.  

“If more people like you were in power, the undead would have overtaken the city in months when we first started to walk.”

“Are you going to insult me this whole time?” You clenched your fists. “If this is how you treat everyone, I’m amazed the undead weren’t mowed down when you first started to walk.”

“Have a seat.” He gestured to the pew in front of the desk, before pulling open a drawer. “Clementine? Cranberries?” 

“What?” You expected to see a few cans or fruit cups, but your mouth watered when he pulled out the fresh produce, along with a bottle of water.  

“You think we only eat the flesh of the dead?” He tossed you the bottle of water, which you caught. Checking to make sure that it hadn’t been opened or had holes in the cap, you slowly opened it. “You’ve got a lot to learn.” 

Finishing the water bottle, you set it next to you on the pew. You heart skipped a beat as his eyes fell on you again, now glittering with curiosity.

“You’re too old for your actions to be a dare or some childish foolhardiness.” Romero didn’t sit, but leaned on his desk. It creaked under his weight. “Did a spurned lover put you out? Angry boss threw you here because you fell behind on your performance?”   

You shook your head. Why was he asking so many questions?

Sweat trickled down your neck as you pushed down the memories starting to rear their heads again. Grabbing the water bottle, you made a show of crushing it down until only a small ring of plastic was under the cap.

“Are you in debt? Terminally ill?” His voice was softer, light returning to his eyes. His cheeks and hands started to look less clammy. “Because if it’s the latter, you’ll find no reprieve here. A vampire might be more to your liking.” 

“If I had those problems, then I would have let the hordes in the street take me. Maybe I would have been someone dragging terrified living through the halls.” You put a hand to your bicep, knowing it was likely going to bruise. At least a handprint was better than a bite mark.

“You’ve seen my kind.” The kindness was gone as he all but bit off each word. He held up an arm, showing where his wrist met the rest of his arm. The skin tones were slightly different. “Mismatched and sewn together from the best parts the dead—” He paused, rolling his eyes in a reluctant admittance. “—And occasional living, offer. We pay for the bodies, they pay us for the minds.”

“Yes.” You nodded to the paper in his hand. “I’ve seen it. Flyers around town, teasing them with promises of being able to talk to loved ones who passed on, or helping the police find criminals.”

“Is that why you’ve come?” He smiled, crumpling the paper in his fist and tossing it over his shoulder.

Inhaling sharply, you gripped your pant legs, nails digging into the fabric.   

“Did I hit a nerve?” The smile grew larger, but didn’t reach his eyes. A small part of you was relieved.  

“I take it you didn’t come prepared with money?”

“The flyer didn’t—”    

“I never take clients on feeding nights.” He held up a hand to cut you off, then stepped down the stairs to close the distance between you. “Too grisly. Lots of people upset that I’m eating in front of them.” 

You couldn’t hide your disgust as your lip drew backward and your face scrunched up. Leaning back in the pew, you crossed your arms. So, you’d come all this way for nothing?

“I’ve consumed lots of minds over the years.”  He put two fingers to his temples. “So many memories jumbled together. It’s hard to tell who they originally belonged to. The process to get… Specific can be taxing.  Of course, these things don’t come cheap, but there are many who are willing to pay if it means getting some closure from a loved one.”  

The eyes… They stared at you, trying to gauge your reaction. When your face relaxed, you were rewarded with a clementine. Peeling back the skin, you stared down at the fruit.

“Usually something is needed to trigger recollection. A trinket. A song.”  His voice was a lot closer. Closing your eyes, you didn’t dare look up to see how near he was to your face. Surprisingly, you could smell mint mixed in with his warm breath.   

“A smell…” 

A breeze stirred. And the memories lanced their way through your mind. Even when your squeezed your eyes shut, they remained.

“I can see it now, actually.” Romero’s voice was faint, fading into the ambience of downtown. A train whistled, and you sat on a bench, a suitcase at your side.  

 “You were supposed to meet him at the train station.” Romero’s voice was gone. The cadence… The tone… the speech pattern. You didn’t dare turn around to face him, for fear that everything would fade away. His voice. The one that matched the eyes.

“Both of you wanted to escape to a new city, leave this life behind. A place without the undead. Where you wouldn’t have to worry about the pressures of your families. Somewhere no one knew either of you. A clean slate. Thrive, not just survive.”   

“But his family had debts.” The scene began to fade away as a clock above the train tracks spun, people and other occupants of the station moved by in a blur.

“Ones that buried them worse than the corpses that make up the graveyard. They gave up everything to make it. Gambling on someone that they hoped would be the light at the end of their miserable tunnel.”  

The cathedral returned, and you saw Romero’s mismatched hand out of the corner of your eye.

“He was far from the only one.” The ghoul dropped his hand and shook his head. The pew creaked as he stood back in front of you.    

“His body was the base for my current form.” He ran his hands over his suit, fingers tracing over the buttons. For a moment, you thought he would undo them and show you the patchwork beneath it.

“But, like many, it needed better pieces. Parts had to be replaced. So many minds were absorbed in creating this.” His hands went back to his temples, pointer fingers resting on them.  

 “Of… Me?” He sounded unsure, brow furrowing as his straight hair fell over his eyes. “Us?”

His fingers went from his temples to his eyelids.   

“The eyes stayed, though. His were lovely. Although I suppose you knew that the moment ours met.” 

 You sucked in air through your teeth.

“What…” He shook his head and dropped his hands, placing a hand on his chest. His voice lacked bravado. For a moment, it looked like a tear was shimmering on his cheek. “Who he was doesn’t exist anymore. He’s… sorry. That he left you waiting. But he’s glad to see you’re doing well.”

Your heart fell into your stomach. If you hadn’t been sitting, then your legs would have given out. Panting, you placed a hand on your chest in a mirror of his own pose.  

 “Interesting…” His hand went to cover his mouth, but you would still hear his words. “Memories of the dead… Creating feelings.”   

He made a fist and cleared his throat, body becoming stiff.

“Is that all you needed to hear? I think we’re pushing things as we are.”   

“How did you do all that? Make me see that night?” Your words came out barely above a whisper. Your voice shook with each word. “Is this some trick?”

Your heart fluttered, and you reached out to touch the ghoul, as if that would bring them all back again.

“Forgive me, it was a mistake to refer to him in the present tense.” He started to back away from you, waving his hand in that dismissive way. “I don’t mean to make you angry.” 

 “I’m…” You felt tears slipping down your cheeks, large and hot. They fell down onto your collar and chest. “Not angry…” It surprised you, but you realized it was the truth. You certainly weren’t happy… But far from… The fury you expected.

“Such an expression doesn’t do you justice.” His expression softened, and his hand cupped your soaked cheek.  

“You’re still radiant despite it.” 

“Is this… Normal?”

 “Your presence is pulling him to the forefront. Quieting the others.” He put a finger to his lips with his freehand, closing his eyes. Inhaling deeply, he exhaled the minty breath over your face, covering you with goosebumps.

You didn’t dare say anything. Didn’t breathe. Worried that any noise you made would send him back to the hive mind. Losing him forever. A second death after seeing him for only a short amount of time.

How could people subject themselves to this?

“There are a lot of minds I’ve absorbed. Memories.” His hand went from your cheek to the curve of your neck. 

“But never emotions.” 

 “So does that mean he’s… Piloting you right now?” You felt silly for asking. Of course he wouldn’t be. Why would he refer himself to the third person?

“It would be impossible to bring him back, I apologize.” He dropped his hand. The icy cold of your cheek stung, like he’d slapped it.

“And yet…”

You finally sucked in a breath. Your heart slammed against your ribs, a battering ram that threatened to break them. Swallowing hard, you placed your palms on the back of the pew and forced yourself to stand.

“I appreciate all you’ve done. But I think we’re moving past a professional relationship.”

“Right. Yes.” He finally broke the gaze, and it was like a piece of you was torn free. “There is a cot that you can stay on until feeding night is over. Once the sun is out, then you can head home.”

You headed to the door, hand hovering above the key. It was the one thing that would give your freedom, but lock him away forever.

So many questions swirled around in your mind. It was a rare opportunity.

Turning back around, you nearly jumped out of your skin when you saw Romero standing between the pews. Far enough away to give him deniability of following you, but closer than he’d been when you’d arrived.  

“Perhaps it’s these eyes of his.” He clasped his hands behind his back. “But ever since you walked into this room, I haven’t been able to see you as food, but as a thing of beauty. And your smell… Appetizing, but it entranced me further.” 

He took another step closer, eyes flicking to the key. It was slow enough to give you enough time to leave. To tell him to stop.

But you didn’t move.

These eyes of his…

Memories… Feelings… Sorry… Glad to see you’re doing well…

“I don’t want you to get confused.” You blurted. “You aren’t him.”

“I know.” He admitted. “But these memories…” He stopped within arm’s length of you. “I will never be a replacement for him, but perhaps you can find some comfort in that a small part of him will continue to live on.”

You sniffed and wiped your eyes. The touch. The gaze. The way he talked… There was no way to convince yourself it was him…

But this was as close as you could get.

You closed the distance between you two and wrapped your arms around him. The way he felt was… Wrong, but at least the warmth was the same. You expected stiff and cold. But you let your head rest on his chest, expecting to hear and feel the familiar rhythm of his heart.

Only silence answered.   

His fingers went under your chin, and he tilted your head up toward his. Rough lips brushed against yours in a chaste kiss. You closed your eyes. All you could see was the ghoul in the darkness.

“Perhaps we can continue to learn from one another.” His lips scratched against your earlobe. “You’ll find more of your love’s memories, and I’ll explore these emotions and senses…” His fingers slid between yours, the touch sending a jolt of pleasure through you.  

You finally locked eyes with him, looping your arms around his neck. His hands went to your waist, and your bodies pressed up against one another.

Your lips met again, and he grabbed the back of your head and crushed you two together. He moaned softly, his rough mouth wet against yours. Remembering the ichor, you squeezed your own shut and prayed none would get into your mouth.

Then, a growl.

A sharp pain went up the curve of your neck. His hair brushed your skin and you tangled your hands in his hair.

Had it all been an act?

Was this how you died?

Then, he was off, licking his lips and shaking his head. 

“Sorry… Some natures are… Hard to ignore.” He stared at you, straightening his arms to look you over.  

 “Are you alright?”

“It hurts.” You admitted, putting a hand to the bite. It stung, but the skin didn’t seem to be broken. “Will I turn?”

“No.” He shook his head. “It’s… Just a love bite.”

You swallowed. Your head spun as you leaned into him once again. The surprise wore off, and so did the pain.  

 “Then I’m fine.”

“If I had a pulse,” He cupped your cheek again, bending down to brush his lips against yours in a much more chaste kiss. Guiding your hand to his chest, he let it rest. “It would be racing right now.  “There’s so much of you I want to feel and taste…  When I thought about sinking my teeth into your flesh, I never wanted to break it. Only leave you bruised.”

He made a clicking noise with his tongue.

“I suppose… I’ve already done that.”  He tilted his head to the side and winced apologetically, fingers brushing against the bite mark. Each touch made you stand up straight and suck in a breath, crushing your bodies together again, to where only your clothes separated you.

“I wanted… Want to indulge all of my senses with you.” He pulled you in for an embrace again, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “The moans that escape you dancing on the razor’s edge of pleasure and pain.”

A kiss on your forehead.  

“Lips that call out my name toward the heavens rather than cursing me into the dirt.” 

A kiss on your eyelid.

“Fingers that tangle in my clothing.” A kiss on your earlobe again, as his own digits twisted in the back of your shirt. “Pulling me closer instead of pushing away.” 

A kiss on your nose.

“Inhaling my scent rather than twisting away in disgust…”

A kiss on the lips.  

“A flavor that brings us mutual pleasure.”    

When he pulled away, you kissed him again. Your legs trembled, and he brought you to one of the pews and let you lean against it.

“We take parts of other bodies,” His hands roamed, going under your shirt. He found the wound from the fence, but his fingers danced around it with such dexterity that it didn’t hurt.

“I’d love to see one in its base state.”   

 You felt the all too familiar hardness between his legs. The touch almost made you cry out in shock. Sure, they took bodies, but they were… Anatomically correct?

“I’m undead, but I can still respond to stimuli.” He chuckled, then pulled back to give you room between him and the pew. “We may not reproduce like you do, but there’s still some pleasure that can be taken from it…”  

 “Ghouls have sex?”

“Maybe not nearly as often as humans do. But some memories stir… And if there’s a mood…” He titled his hand side to side with a noise of uncertainty.

“But I’ve never wanted to do it as much as I have with you right now.”

“Then surely… You remember how I like to be touched?” You felt your cheeks burn at your own forwardness. This was crazy.

But yet, you found yourself fumbling for your clothes, tossing them behind you on the pew. 

He stared, lips parted slightly as he took you in.

“Perfection…” 

The staring didn’t last long before he was kissing you again.

“I mean it. Truly.” He managed between kisses as his hands continued to explore, finding every sensitive spot and curve on you, his touch only becoming more eager as you let out soft sighs and moans.

“Just as lovely as it was… No… Better.”

Then, he broke the barrage of kisses to loosen his tie and start unbuttoning his suit. Unbuckling his belt, he gave you a sly look as his pants fell around his ankles. He stripped all fabric off him, revealing the patchwork skin beneath in the candlelight.  

“It’s only fair if I’m as naked as you.” 

 Shadows danced across his skin, making it harder to tell where some ended and others began. A strange stitching of flesh that he somehow made look whole.

 “As I said, we take all the best parts… Some for aesthetic. Some for health.”

You ran your hands over his skin, fingers more adept at finding the cracks in him than your eyes.  

 “I try to find a mixture of both.” He let out a soft gasp as your hands trailed lower over his hip bones. “Haphazard, yet coherent.” 

 Then you saw the cock rising and drooling. The fluid glistened in the light, and you sucked in a breath.

“His eyes weren’t the only thing I kept…” He softly moaned as your fingers brushed against it. Somehow, it managed to grow harder and leak more, leaving a glistening trail on your skin.

“It remembers your touch quite well. You appear to be a master of the flesh yourself.” 

 He brought you in for another kiss, moaning into your mouth as you pumped him. Your hands became slick with him, and it helped lube him up more. His hips bucked, hilting into your grip. You squeezed more, increasing your pace as you felt between your legs tingle with the memory of him…

You dropped to your knees, continuing to stroke, the head dampening with your pants.  

“It seems to fit in your hand…” He moaned as you took him into your mouth. “And mouth , perfectly!” 

He moaned, thrusting into your mouth. You opened wide for him, letting him go as deep as he could. It had been a while, but you moaned around him, grabbing his thighs to pull him back in when he tried to back out. When he did manage to get free, you sucked on his thighs and balls, tongue leaving a shimmering path behind you.

His panting and your sucking joined the classical music in the background.

“That’s certainly one way to draw out memories!” He moaned into you, resting his hands on the pew so he could thrust more into your mouth, but not hard enough to slam your head against the wood. You grabbed him harder, forcing him as deep as he could go while still sucking.   

“I imagine a lot more of my kind would be willing to work with the living using this method!” 

You pulled your mouth free, looking at his rock hard length, wet with your saliva. You pumped it a few more times, running your lips across the shaft and lapping at his balls. The taste… the smell.. the sight… You almost felt dizzy with delight at how familiar it all was.  

“I imagine kneeling on a stone floor isn’t terribly comfortable.” He offered his hand, and you took it. With a grunt, he hauled you to your feet. He brought his hands between your legs, the grin returning when he felt the wetness between them.  

“I feel it’s only fair to return the favor.”   

His lips were against your skin, sending more goosebumps over it as your nipples became erect.

 “Go ahead and lay back.”

You balanced on the edge of the pew. At least the sides were large enough to let you sit without it digging too much into your behind.  

 “Probably more comfortable.” He mumbled against your collarbone as he started to slide down, his lips and tongue mingling with your breasts, your stomach, hips…  

“I have a… different hunger that needs to be satisfied.” 

 He drew his tongue across your wetness, swirling around your clit, breath warm against your folds. He rolled his head, drawing out the motion, before drawing it back. His lips rested against your thigh, before he clamped down on it again.  

“Sorry.” His eyes went wide as his mouth continued to nibble across your thigh, before he pulled off with a suctioning sound. Grunting, he pulled off, about to apologize again, before you wrapped your legs around his head and yanked him closer.  

“I didn’t take you for the type to enjoy that.” His muffled voice rumbled through you, and your back arched.  

He continued to lick, parting your lips so he could plunge in deeper. His tongue moved with precision, teeth barely grazing your clit. Warm breath punctuated with moans vibrated through your entire body as he continued to devour you, not even coming up for air.    

Eager lips parted and lapped at your wetness, fingers prying you open and delving deeper as he moved his head side to side, face slick with your essence.

You braced yourself on the pews, panting and moaning as the licks continued to spark the desire in you, then fanned the small flame into an inferno. You cried out, back arching again as your legs locked around his head. Taking shallow breaths, you tried to not fall backward.

“You’re truly on that edge.” He said with another lick, pulling back and running his tongue up your thigh. “A precipice of danger and desire.” 

With no mercy, he licked and sucked more, focusing purely on your clit as his fingers slipped in and out of you, going deep and brushing against your most sensitive spots. Your moans grew louder, your body slick with sweat as the inferno raged out of control. You saw stars, your vision fracturing like the stained glass all around you.

“I want to fill that emptiness left.  Cure an ache I never knew I had.” He murmured against you.  

“I can’t replace him, but…”

You rocked forward, all but collapsing into his arms and sending you both to the floor in a heap. He caught the both of you, his suit forming a sort of cushion beneath the two of you. It still hurt, but you didn’t care, only kissing him more.  

“Maybe… Just for tonight. We can both feel alive, again.” 

You answered with a kiss.

“I can’t do much to make a stone floor comfortable, sorry.” He pointedly looked around at all the scattered clothing.  “I doubt the two of us could fit properly on a pew…”

He sat up with a grunt, still cradling you in one arm.

“The only really cushioned spot in here is my chair…” He nodded to the desk.  

“So. I guess you’ll have to sit on my lap.” He grunted and winced as his joints popped while standing.  

“Come on, up we go.”  

You started to stand, but your body felt like jelly and collapsed underneath you again.

“Having trouble getting your legs under you?” He grabbed your hand tighter and then pulled you into a bridal carry, taking you to the desk.

“You’re not?”

He sat you down against the desk. You leaned on it for support as he sat in his chair, patting his thigh.  

“Have a seat.” There was the glittering of mischief in his eyes. So warm. With a smile that actually reached the edges.  

You straddled his lap, clinging tight to his shoulders as you hovered over him. You could feel the wetness of your entrance and his tip as they brushed against one another. Letting out another gasp, you lined yourself up and finally took him inside.  

“A perfect fit.” His whispered into your ear.

Once you had gotten comfortable, he began to thrust up into you, hands on your hips.    

“ It’s like everything I remembered,” He said between moans. “Despite never having felt it before.” 

He started to speed up, reaching further than his fingers and tongue ever could. Your walls opened up, allowing him inside you. Your synchronized moans overtook the record player, but you didn’t care.  

“Creating new memories…” He crashed his lips onto yours, and you met his movements with your own.  He moaned into your mouth, his cock twitching as his grip on you only grew tighter.  

“The hair’s width of distance—” Another moan, and his breath caught. Sweat poured down his brow with exertion. “Between life and death growing thinner.”

  He slowed, drawing out the motion intentionally, all but dragging himself inside you.

 “And thinner.” His voice was breathy, shallow breaths warmed your skin and lips.  

He sped up again, hilting you each time and making you cry out. You stopped meeting his movements and clung onto him as he thrust in and out of you.  

“Every kiss—” He once again brought his lips to yours. “Moan…” His voice trailed off into a moan. “Drop of sweat….” His hands released your hips and let you fall onto him.

“Another way to make the barrier dissolve.  And when you lean against me…” He thrust again, the motion lazy and agonizingly slow.  

 “It’s like you’re pushing through…  I guess we’ll have to keep finding holes and make due.” He chuckled and thrust up into you again.  

Then, he clamped onto your neck again. Rather than pain, you only went over the edge in pleasure, nails digging into him as you cried out. You clamped down on him as he released inside you. Fluid and wet mixed on your thighs and his lap, dripping onto the floor.

He sucked, cradling you close and finally pulling off, kissing it apologetically.

“I guess there’s some parts of my nature I can’t ignore.” He whispered against your skin. “We have some medical supplies to treat that.”

You couldn’t help but shoot him a look at you clutched the fresh bite. Your heart fluttered as your legs and between them tingled. Despite the fear, you couldn’t push down the excitement flooding your body.”

“Don’t worry, you won’t turn. Takes a bit more… Finesse to become one of us.” 

 You resting your head against his chest, hand searching for his beating heart. You let out a sigh of disappointment when you remembered there wouldn’t be one.

“I appreciate you indulging me. I hope this brought you some closure.” He stroked between your shoulder blades and nuzzled up against you.   

“And if it didn’t… Perhaps we could try again?” You expected him to laugh or make a joke, but his face was… Hopeful.    

“I feel like I’ve been revived a second time. It’s a phenomenon I’d like to explore more.” He stared at his hands, which were shaking. “New methods to channel the dead and creating memories that can… Coexist with the old ones.” 

“Making breakthroughs?” You managed to say. “Discovering new methods on how things work with your kind?”  

“I think your teaching style differs from what I’m used to.” His hand slid into yours again. “And I’d love to learn more.  Maybe your mind can be of use to me after all.”

[aquitainequeen]

Further bits and pieces of worldbuilding that I really liked in Furiosa (the previous post have gotten rather long)

One of the first shots of the film is trees being detroyed by a shock wave, and later as the raiders escape with Furiosa we see the edges of the Green Place eroding into the desert; a sign of what's to come. And zooming in from space, this paradise is so terribly small...

Furiosa knows how to disable a motorcycle, but still marvels at the petrol pouring over her hand.

There's a brief moment where someone is using a satellite dish as a cooking pot!

Toe Jam and his companion automatically assume that it's Furiosa's father tracking them, not her parents; certainly not her mother.

The first thing the Organic Mechanic does whenever he meets someone new is to check their fingers and teeth to see what kind of health they're in; he does this later with the Lone War Boy, without even being told to do so by Dementus.

When his followers get too rowdy, Dementus calls them off with a whistle - they are his hounds too.

Dementus orders for their best drinking water to be used to wash Furiosa; an immediate sign of how valuable he considers her to be.

I have a theory about the Organic Mechanic serving human blood sausage (the jury is out on whether he was actually drawing Furiosa's blood or whether he was bluffing in front of Immortan Joe). He doesn't yet have the resources to safely do blood transfusions, so this is a simplified way of trying to keep Dementus healthy and strong!

There are wind turbines on the top of the Citadel, but we don't see them move; a shallow echo of the turbines in the Green Place.

The power dynamics in Dementus' horde; the Mortiflyers answer to the Octoboss, who calmly tells them to comply; compare this with Dementus' posturing...

Immortan Joe is the only one during negotiations to speak directly to Furiosa, asking her questions and getting answers from her - yet we never see him speak to any of the women in his harem. When one of them gives birth to a mutated baby he turns and departs without a word, leaving Scrotus to pass sentence on her.

I've commented before on how unsettling it is that Furiosa's given a little cubby of her own with a lamp and books and a bed, and how it all looks so normal. The whole setup of the harem is unnerving. Down in the depths of the Citadel everything is scavenged and mismatched; @cinemaocd noticed that the 'bunks' that Furiosa and Jack are sleeping on later in the film are actually repurposed lounge chairs. Even later on, when the People Eater is plotting battles, he uses salvaged objects to represent the armies. But up in the harem everything is preserved, clean and kept for its original purpose, from the chairs and chalkboard to the stacks of books and the ordinary (if not necessarily comfy) beds. Like the Green Place, the harem is recognisable and normal, a series of rooms you could well imagine in our universe...but it's a manufactured paradise rather than a natural one, a false 'haven' and a real prison for so many women.

[angelbaby-fics]

🌾 Walks with Eddie 🌱

It all started when you wanted a milkshake

Eddie had just enough gas in the tank to get to his next gig and stop at the gas station on the way home after getting paid for the night

But one thing he was NOT about to do was deny you your favorite treat!!

The closest place to get a shake was just under a mile away, and Eddie would have sprinted it if it meant getting you your treat faster, but then he had a little idea

“Hey pumpkin, you wanna go for a walk?”

This was the start of one of your favorite hobbies to do together

At first, you’d only walk to the drive thru and back, trying a different milkshake flavor each time, swapping shakes back and forth to try each other’s flavor

Eventually, you start walking further, taking different routes

Eddie always made you hold his hand whenever you crossed the street, and you usually wouldn’t let go until you reached your destination

If this is modern!Eddie, the two of you would share a pair of earbuds and listen to your favorite songs together, while you and classic 80s Eddie would take turns with the tape player, or just go without headphones and play music out loud on his portable stereo

Every. Single. Time. you come across a dandelion, you HAVE to make a wish on it

Eddie always asks you what you wished for, which you tell him is a secret, until he starts wishing on dandelions too and you beg to know what he wished for

Same with hopscotch, if you found some chalk that a child had drawn that morning, both you and Eddie without fail would hop across the sidewalk

On the way home, as the trailer park first came into view, you and Eddie would both break out into a sprint, first one to the trailer gets 20 kisses!

After you’d traversed every street within a reasonable distance, Eddie would start driving the two of you around other areas of Hawkins to find new neighborhoods and trails to explore

You marveled at the different yards of some houses, different architecture, gardens full of fruits and flowers, or creative lawn decorations

It was especially fun during holidays, seeing all the spooky decorations and jack-o-lanterns during Halloween, and the beautiful twinkling lights at Christmas

You’d walk through forest hiking trails, each of you stuffing your pockets with cool rocks, sticks, and flowers you’d find

When you got home, you’d each empty your forest hordes and trade rocks like currency

Eddie would pick any flowers he’d come across and put them behind your ear, until you scolded him for picking the flowers and hurting their feelings, so he vowed to only take flowers that had already fallen to the ground from then on

Any time you’d find a long stick, you’d carry it like a magic wand for the rest of your walk, casting spells on all the squirrels and birds you saw

Eddie would be fond of collecting big branches to repurpose as wizard staffs

If it was rainy, you’d still walk, jumping in EVERY puddle along the way

Walking around everywhere also helped the two of you make a lot of friends, especially furry ones

After a while, you’d start carrying dog treats in your pockets for all the little puppies you’d meet!

[kaydreamer]

The Flirting Game

Hope and Hancock were only five minutes along the train line when they heard the telltale snarl of feral ghouls.

The fight was over quickly. Hancock was a whirl of deadly red at close quarters, and while Hope preferred to be a hell of a lot further away from her targets, she was swift on her feet and lethal with her pistol. There was an exhilaration to a gunfight at close quarters, one which swept her up in the rush of combat, then left her dizzy and hollow in the aftermath.

This time was no different.

Hope lowered her gun, breathing hard to quell the nausea, looking grimly at the slain ghouls. When she’d fought her first horde of ferals, mere weeks ago, she’d been terrified. They had rushed her like zombies in a horror movie, snarling monsters torn from nightmare. It wasn’t until they were dead, and she’d noticed one of them holding a teddy, his hand fused shut around it, that the tragedy of their lost humanity struck her.

She wondered if it was the same with super mutants. 

She wondered what Hancock thought.

She looked over at him. He was checking the area, making sure there were no more ferals lurking in any of the rail cars. He must have felt her eyes on him, because he turned to look at her, frowning when he caught her conflicted expression. He returned, placing an uncharacteristically tentative hand on her shoulder.

“You okay?”

“Does it… upset you?” she asked softly, looking down at the nearest ghoul. “You know… having to shoot them?”

Hancock shook his head. “It’s a mercy. They… ain’t who they were.”

Hope nodded, swallowing hard.

“Yeah. I guess so.”

They both jumped as Dogmeat barked, growling at a rustling sound coming from one of the bushes. Hancock had his shotgun up in an instant, pushing Hope behind him as a mole rat burst out, only for its head to explode with an almighty blast a heartbeat later. 

“Would ya look at that?” said Hancock. “Looks like dinner just announced itself.”

“A mole rat?!” said Hope, aghast. She screwed up her face in disgust. “No thanks. I’ll go hungry.”

“You kiddin’? Mole rat is delicious. I’ll prove it.” He turned to her, his expression smug. “Twenty caps says you like it after I’m done cookin’ it.”

“Ugh…” Hope winced. “That means I have to actually eat some.”

“Fifty caps.”

“...Fine.”

Hancock grinned, grabbing the headless mole rat by the tail and hoisting it over his shoulder. “Guess I’m about to be fifty caps richer,” he said, with a confidence Hope had very little faith in. “Let’s take it to Oberland. If they got mutfruit, then I got the perfect recipe in mind.”

It was just getting dark by the time they reached Oberland Station. A chugging generator lit a row of empty rail cars along the train line, each repurposed as a hotel room of sorts. Hope had learned during her last visit that Oberland Station was a common stop for travellers on their way to Diamond City, so the ‘Railway Hotel’ received a steady stream of guests - as did a second line of rail cars which served as a market. The settlement also boasted a small farm for tatos and mutfruit, along with a fairly well-maintained station house which provided communal living for the permanent settlers.

The leader of the settlement was a dark-skinned woman by the name of Valerie, who greeted Hope enthusiastically, and Hancock even more enthusiastically when she caught sight of the mole rat carcass he was carrying.

“We’ve already made a tato soup and bread rolls for tonight, but we haven’t had fresh game for a few days,” she said. “If you’re fixing to sell that, dinner is on us.”

“Oh, I’ll do ya one better,” said Hancock. “Let me use some mutfruit, and some sugar sap if ya got it, and I’ll cook it for ya. Free of charge.”

“Done,” said Valerie. “There’s a cooler bin further in, you can dump it there.” She turned to Hope. “Sorry, didn’t mean to be rude. It’s great to see you again, General.”

“Just Hope is fine,” said Hope, elbowing Hancock as he saluted her. “I don’t suppose you have a room free?”

“None in the Railway, I’m afraid - we got two caravans of traders stopped here tonight. But Tess and I made one up for ‘specially for the Minutemen while you were gone. Got one bed and a couch in it. Let me show you.”

The room was upstairs in an old white switching tower which, Valerie informed her, was officially the Minutemen tower in the past, and was officially the Minutemen tower again. The downstairs portion had a desk, a radio, and some shelves for storing supplies.

“Speaking of the radio,” said Hope, as they approached the tower after depositing the molerat by the dining shack, “I need to update your network map. Goodneighbor is joining the radio relay, and Oberland is the closest relay partner.”

“Is that how you stole their mayor?” asked Valerie, chuckling.

“I guess my reputation precedes me,” said Hancock.

“Not many ghouls around dressed like they raided a museum,” she shrugged, smirking. “Map’s in the desk drawer. Jed’s in charge of the radio, give him the listening frequency and he’ll keep it tuned.”

“Do you mind if we use it to test the signal tomorrow?” asked Hope. “I’d like to radio forward to Sanctuary along the relay as well.”

“It’s all yours, Gener- Hope,” said Valerie, pausing at the foot of the switching tower. “Dump your things upstairs and come join us for a meal.”

The dining shack was a large wood-and-sheet-metal building filled with long picnic tables. A bar sat in the middle, behind which was a kitchen with a wood-fired stove. It hummed with conversation. As Hope entered, a few shouts of greeting were raised by the permanent settlers.

“Aren’t you little miss popular?” said Hancock, as they approached the kitchen.

“I should hope so,” said a dark-haired woman, waving a ladle. “Those damn raiders haven’t touched us since she took care of the bunch out at Back Street Apparel. It’s good to have the Minutemen back.” She poured an extra large serving of soup into two bowls, along with two thick slices of bread. “I’m Tess, by the way,” she said to Hancock. “Val said you bought in the mole rat. You best make sure you clean my kitchen once you’re done with it.” She waved the ladle close to his nose, but the smile on her face belied the threat.

“You have my solemn vow,” said Hancock, a hand to his heart.

“Good. Now get some food in your bellies, before it goes cold.”

Hope found herself pulled into a number of conversations as she and Hancock enjoyed their meal - mostly by the settlers, who were eager to chat. The caravan traders sat in stark contrast, glowering at her from a separate table. Hope overheard a few dark mutterings from their group, which contained the words ‘ghoul’ and ‘shouldn’t be allowed’. But Hancock seemed determined not to let it get to him, and when Tess overheard one particularly foul remark, which sounded to Hope's ears like 'ghoul-fucker', she smacked the man across the back of the head with the ladle and banished him from the dining shack. 

By his hoot of laughter, Hancock certainly enjoyed that.

“It’s ridiculous, anyway,” said Valerie, afterwards. “We get a lot of ghouls through here, and we deal with a lot of ferals, and not once have I seen one turn into the other. But we kick out a drunk human every other week.”

“I hear ya, sister,” said Hancock. “And thanks. Means a lot to hear.”

Eventually, one of the settlers invited them back to the station House for drinks, where Dogmeat received a bounty of belly scratches from a pair of delighted children, while Hancock lost a few dozen caps on several animated games of poker because  - to Hope’s amusement - he had a terrible poker face.

At least, he did where she was concerned.

Poker turned into darts, and when Hancock was drunk enough to decide that darts would be more fun as a game of dodgeball, with himself as the target, she’d finally dragged him away to get some sleep.

By the time they got back to the switching tower, they were both mentally buzzing and physically exhausted. Hancock flopped immediately onto the couch, Dogmeat at his feet, while Hope stood and unclipped her Minutemen chest armour. Hancock whistled softly through his teeth as she removed it, looking her up and down with a crooked grin.

Hope raised a slow brow. “Like what you see?”

“Oh, you bet I do,” said Hancock, his voice a low rumble. “That vault suit hugs all the right curves.”

“Fahrenheit did say you thought I looked hot in it.”

“Did she?” Hancock’s flirtatious expression took on a hint of bewilderment. “Since when does she do shit like that?”

“It was after the thing with Bobbi,” said Hope, shooing him along the couch so she could sit. “I think she was trying to cheer me up.”

“Heh. Did it work?”

“A bit,” said Hope, catching his eye with a smile.

“By the way… about all the comments and shit,” said Hancock, shifting in his seat a little. “I like to flirt, it’s all in good fun. I don’t mean anythin’ by it. But if I ever make you uncomfortable, just tell me to back the fuck off.”

Hope paused at that remark. She felt the weight of it shift something in their dynamic, the unstable ground beneath her suddenly a little more solid. ‘All in good fun.’ Just a game of playful banter.

They were on the same page.

Too bad Hope was competitive.

“Oh?” She straightened up a little, tilting her head, her voice dropping a few notes. “You don’t think I can give as good as I get?”

Hancock grinned as he turned toward her, mirroring her tone. “Is that a challenge, sunshine?”

Hope smirked. “Sure, why not. Let’s see if I can find out whether or not ghouls can blush.”

“Oh, this ghoul can,” said Hancock, leaning toward her. “But you’ll have to work really, really hard for it.”

“What do I get if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“A kiss,” said Hope, as her better judgement got up and walked out of the room.

“Done,” said Hancock quickly, a flash of mischief in his eyes. “No take-backsies. You’ll have to try harder than that, though.”

“Who said I was trying?”

“Heh. I like this game. So, what do I get if I win?”

“What do you want?”

“Oh, so many things.” Hancock ran a finger up her arm, and Hope’s skin beneath the vault suit burned. “But… I’ll settle for a date,” he said, leaning back. “‘Cause I’m a gentlemen.”

“Haven’t we already been on a date?” Hope teased, her face warm and her composure hanging by a thread. “You even bought me dinner.”

Hancock chuckled, soft and warm. “Damn, ya caught me. Alright, I want a second date.”

Hope’s heart did a bellyflop. “Well,” she breathed. “I look forward to losing.”

“Oh, so do I, sunshine,” Hancock purred. “So do I.”

When Hancock opened his backpack and pulled out some Jet, Hope was quick to take him up on the offer. The day had been long, full, and exhausting, and a little mental quiet seemed like an excellent idea. They took their hits together, flopping along opposite sides of the couch, legs tangled over Dogmeat who had curled up in the middle. Hope focused on the visuals this time - not as vivid as Daytripper, but still bright, and so pretty with the sparkling quality everything had. The slowness of the world was pure bliss. She breathed deeply, allowing the momentary serenity to wash over her. As she came back to herself, she felt thoughts began to drift back in. She let them float through, soft and easy.

To learn that flirting was something Hancock did for fun, and not something he expected anything to come of, was a profound relief. Bittersweet, because she felt an undeniable spark. But every time she’d found herself in a casual fling, which wasn’t uncommon in the peace-and-free-love crowd, it had ended in heartbreak. She always caught feelings. Every. Fucking. Time. The last thing she needed was to ruin a blossoming friendship, not to mention an outright alliance between Goodneighbor and the Minutemen, by making the same mistake she’d made dozens of times before, getting herself and her heart tangled around a man whose swagger and charm both screamed ‘no strings attached’.

A crush and a flirting game, though? That territory was safe enough, and undeniably fun. The sting of unrequited feelings, already flickering to life, was something she could endure. Certain friendships were worth that.

And if they ever were requited? If it became obvious he shared her feelings? 

She’d rejoice.

But she’d have to hear it from him. She’d been wrong too many times to trust her own judgement anymore.

Hancock’s jet-clear thoughts orbited around the baffling nugget of knowledge that Fahrenheit had told Hope he thought her vault suit was hot. Fahrenheit did that. Sure, Hope had said the comment was meant to cheer her up, and it’s not like he hadn’t made it blindingly obvious himself, but still - Fahrenheit had never once had anything to say about any of the women he’d taken a fancy to before now. And certainly-the-hell-not to the woman in question. She stayed out of that shit.

Damn girl was far too perceptive. 

It was because he hadn’t slept with Hope. He was infamous as a flirt - damn proud of it, in fact - taking pretty ladies, and the occasional handsome fellow, on ‘tours’ of Goodneighbor which always ended upstairs in his private room at the Statehouse, or in his now-former apartment. Not getting Hope into bed when he was obviously attracted to her was weird for him, and suddenly Fahrenheit seemed to have a lot to say about her.

If Fahrenheit had noticed something was off, the devil only knew what Hope herself was thinking - which was why he’d finally bought up the flirting. He had to let her know he wasn’t expecting anything, that she could tell him to buzz off with no hard feelings.

Instead, she’d decided to make a competition of it, and damn if that didn’t make this whole tangled mess even more fun. He was going to lose that game. He was going to lose it more than once, cursed to spend god-knows-how-long ducking away whenever he felt heat rising in his cheeks, so he didn’t put her in the awkward position of making good on her promise.

Much as he longed to kiss her, he knew one taste of her lips would hook him harder than any chem ever had, and he’d probably combust with yearning in the aftermath.

It was sweet torture, wanting what he couldn’t have.

He kinda liked it.

Hope was wandering lazily around the room in her post-jet afterglow, eyes half-shut, enjoying the tingles along her skin and the slight shimmer which still buzzed along the corners of the world. She watched as Hancock stretched his arms out slowly with a long yawn. “I’m beat,” he said. “You wanna get some shuteye?”

“Sounds good,” she said, through a yawn of her own. She glanced at the bed, then back to Hancock. As if in answer, he kicked off his shoes and stretched out along the couch, pulling his hat down over his eyes. 

“Bed’s all yours.”

“You really are a gentleman,” Hope teased, deliberately angling the zipper of her vault suit to make it as loud as possible as she slowly pulled it down. Hancock breathed out a huff of amusement, hand twitching toward his hat before he let it fall back to his side. Hope flicked off the light and shimmied into the bed. It wasn’t as soft as the one in Goodneighbor, but it was a damn sight better than pretty much anything else.

“Goodnight, Hancock.”

“Sweet dreams, sunshine.”

First Chapter

Chapter 7

Chapter 9: COMING SOON

[residentialrabbit]

Comm for a Hordes Simp!

[dark-rider-pr]

Riders of Fallen Dawn: Day 176

(introduction to the world)

AO3 link here

Rating: T Words: 1,325 Warnings: minor amount of sweaaring

Sabine reflects on how she got into the position she was in now, in a community, helping to keep so many people alive. I'm posting the introduction chapter here but if you;d like all chapters from the Halloween prompt month also on here let me know!

The coughing was probably the worst part of being in the apocalypse. 

Sabine’s lungs were failing, not because of the virus she had yet to contract nor is it because of the nuclear winter that was to roll in from Europe, but because of asthma. Fucking asthma. 

The End of Days was supposed to be done by them, the Dark Riders. They were meant to destroy the world, their true forms free to dance in the ruins of cities, breathing in air that was tainted with Garnok’s magic. Now? Now, Sabine could barely breathe normal magic-less air as her lungs spasmed. 

She shook the inhaler for ten seconds, or close enough because who really counts that when you’re having a fit, and on an inhale, pressed the can down. Inhaling the steroids helped open the organs back up and, whilst she could do without the shakes afterwards, the coughing stopped.

Her body, her mortal shell, was dying and there probably weren't enough people left in the world for her or her siblings to do another reincarnation cycle. 

The virus, called Aideen’s Curse (or Jorvik Rabies by the rest of the world), targeted magic users. As such, the druids at the start of the ordeal targeted the Dark Riders, blaming them for the virus when in fact…it might have been their precious Soul Riders. 

It’s merely hearsay at this point but the correlation between the Soul Riders and the Reincarnate disappearing whilst patient zero, Evergray, returned back to Valedale Village. Garnok would just pollute the world, turning it into a chaos realm that might also be viewed as a zombie apocalypse but this? No, this wasn’t Garnok. Or Sands. Or Darko before he was lost to Pandoria. Or even the Dark Riders themselves. 

The backbone of Dark Core wouldn’t shoot themselves in the foot by making a virus that forced you to suppress your magic. 

Sabine tried to stand up but her legs quickly wobbled and she fell back down on the bed. She was weak and weakness meant death in their world.

To starve a fire, you must deprive it of oxygen. That was what her body was doing to her in vengeance for denying her magical existence. But if the Dark Riders wanted to find the Soul Riders, the Light Ceremony Book and then free both Erissa and Garnok…it’s just what they’ll have to live with. 

Wind rattled the repurposed shipping container she was living in at the Valley Community, the cut out windows shaking from the force of the blizzard. Insulation foam had been sprayed on the inside and wood had been applied to give some sort of protection from the cold. There was a cheap electronic heater near her bed to provide some warmth but all Sabine really wanted was to let her magic out. She missed the way the fire raged inside, how alive she felt. 

Though Khaan was her silent steed, the Dark Rider knew he missed the fire as well. He was a little slower than their usual breakneck pace but thankfully, he wasn’t lame. Nor was Acerbus and Mortifa for that matter. The self imposed curse that the Dark Riders had put on themselves had avoided their horses and for all the magic left in the world, they thanked it.

Sabine curled up on her side, pulling the blankets and duvet back over her body as she watched the storm, thinking and mulling over what she knew. 

Could she risk just a little bit of flame?

No, unless she wanted to become a beacon for the Hollow Wood horde to try and break into the Hidden Valley. Not even Katja, someone that came from the Valley, part of its magical ecosystem in a way, wanted to risk it.

Magic users, especially strong ones, if bitten, would turn into “horde leaders”. They would guide the mindless infected, letting them feed off their magic until there was nothing left, allowing for a new leader to step up and take the role of zombie martyr. The only horde leader to not be eaten by its own compatriots was Evergray but he was a special case: the only stage 6. Well, technically, he was in a league of his own.

There was a knock at the door before it was pulled open against the wind, two figures stepping in and stomping their shoes to get rid of snow before pulling down their scarves around their faces. Sabine didn’t need to see their faces to know it’s her siblings. 

“Hey,” she croaked out, coughing a couple of times as she sat up. 

“Dr. Eiren said she could hear you coughing from a mile away,” Jay teased, putting their GED jacked up on a coat rack on the wall. “Wanted to check on you herself but a riding party came back looking rough.”

Sabine sat up, tossing her hair out of her face in concern. 

“Was anyone bitten?” 

“That’s what she’s checking for right now,” Katja said as undid her braid, running her hair through her fingers. “Shift over, it’s cold.” 

“No wonder you keep coughing so bad,” tacked on Jay, shuddering.

Sabine shifted so her back was pressed up against the wall, her knees tucked to her chest as she held back another coughing fit. Both Jay and Katja had stripped their snow covered outer layers and squeezed to sit beside their sister, tugging blankets over their laps and shoulders. 

The funny thing about the end of the world was how close people had gotten. It had always been the Dark Riders against the world but there were always jabs, sharp eyes and claws waiting to find and manipulate weaknesses. If Sabine had become as sick as she was now a year ago, Katja and Jay would be jostling to become top General. But now, with all three battling chronic illnesses, they had become…well…siblings again. Sure, there was still the rough housing but they had one another’s backs. It was just like when they were children, before Garnok, their Ascension and subsequent exile. 

It did mean that the sting of Erissa’s disappearance had worsened. 

The trio sat in silence, watching the blizzard continue until there was a beep and a voice coming through Sabine’s walkie-talkie. 

“Great,” the Dark Rider huffed. 

“I’ll get it. I’m closer,” Katja cut in, sliding off the bed to grab the device and toss it. 

Sabine caught it with one hand, pressing the necessary button. 

“What? Over.” 

The crackled voice of Justin echoed through the container and Jay rolled their eyes. Out of all the people in the community, Justin was one of the most irritating, mind numbing mortals they had to interact with…

Saying that though, his brief stint on the team meant he actually knew how to work with them.

“Loretta said she saw Ydris out by the manor. Lucid and alive. Sands wants you to head out once the blizzard is done. Over.”

“Yeah, and I’d like a fresh set of acrylics but that’s not gonna happen. We just finished a ride two days ago. Over.”

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger. I don’t like it either. Over and out.” 

Katja tactfully took the walkie talkie out of Sabine’s hand before she threw it, putting it gently on the floor. 

“Didn’t you say you wanted to try and find him,” Jay asked, playing with the dead ends of their hair. 

“Preferably on his own, miles away from a horde. He’s…he…” Sabine groaned, her hands clawing at the air in frustration. “We’re out here killing ourselves to not become a target and yet, he struts about like there isn’t some magical zombie virus.” 

The silver haired rider tutted. 

“Shame we don’t have magic…I still want to make that traitor whimper.”

“Mm, ditto. Every time he calls me ‘little dove’ I have the intense urge to stab him. Repeatedly.” Jay gave a harsh chuckle. “On the brighter side, he’s not a horde leader.” 

[nixalegos]

9. Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

The starting whines of the engine core sounded like a banshee’s wail. To compare it to a regular vehicle was folly. Regular machines did not know how to hate. This one seemed to RUN on it.

That wail grew deeper in pitch within moments, the various exhausts pouring heat and fel flame as piston limbs and internal turbines spun faster and faster. The hellscrawled workings starting to glow that sickly eldritch green color from the increased friction of metal on metal, or perhaps from its increasing malevolence and its own irrepressible desire to destroy.

Its one mechanical claw would have served as a breaching tool under the best of circumstances, able to simply tear almost any offending barrier down, or perhaps to claw and rake upon inferior constructs in crude melee.

Its cannon arm was a salvaged, repurposed, and retrofitted Legion built anti aircraft artillery. A true Fel-cannon that had been later upgraded beyond what the Iron Horde madmen, or Legion tech-savants had ever intended for their Dark Corsair class mechs. Galvanic Oscillators and Chain Ignitercoils ripped from Mechagon and out of Titan Keeper Constructs had been fused with the original design to supplement and enhance power distribution, heating, and swiftness. A juggernaut that could turn on a copper coin even at top speeds.

It was an ever approaching technological apotheosis of the worst variety. A machine whos appearances herald nightmarish catastrophe. A siege of one. An annihilator. And it was in DIRE need of a tune up. As all its hellish fury was silenced by a thunderously CUR-CLANK and the whole contraption powering down as it started to leak IMPOSSI-FREEZE coolants and various high-temp custom weight oils out of places it didn't need to. Nixalegos sighed as he turned his vehicle of choice off again and brought a grime and oil sweat hand to wipe at his forehead. "Mood." The warlock said outloud and clambered back out to see what part needed to be replaced. Thank you @astarmaux!

[edufangrf]

Repurpose Swap au

(Warning: This Au was created before part 2 was released, so no Cherry and Feya yet, and some spoilers)

Basically in this Au, the human love interests turn into demons or angels and the demon and angel love interests turn into humans, but the MC is still human

Kalei: A great believer with a good heart who probably went to church every day, was extremely confused when he died and woke up in the garden with the others. He chose Utopia and didn't even consider going to hell, he had a fight with Ramon when they were exploring limbo. His route in this universe would begin when Kalei and the MC share the room and would involve his insecurities about not being able to enter Utopia, a route very similar to Rosita from the original but with the difference that Kalei manages to enter Utopia.

Ramón: A seductive man and cult leader, Ramon really thought he would be tortured in hell when he died in prison, imagine her surprise when he wakes up in Jardin do Limbo and near his ex-girlfriend who had died. Ramon knows he will never enter utopia and doesn't understand why the world is giving him a chance to do that, after he goes to hell together with the MC. His route would involve him questioning himself and why he is having a good life even though he was a bad cult leader. In this route, Ramon would definitely jump a lot between being a charismatic seducer and someone who is having an existential crisis, being a very slow romance with the MC.

DJRK: Fallen Angel, they did not agree with the way Utopia got into several fights with the Choir (Especially Dominio) which caused them to be expelled to Limbo, becoming the guardian of the residents there. DJ would be more impulsive to this universe, trying to protect all those who wanted to make limbo a home. They are definitely the type of people who are always saying they can handle it but are very close to breaking mentally. On this route, Mc will definitely have to be very responsible to deal with them.

Mitts: An extremely creative angel who is passionate about technology, probably always talking to humans about how technology on earth has changed so that she can increasingly improve Utopia technologically. She is the teleporter and responsible for helping humans enter Utopia with the help of her technology. On this route the MC will help Mitts to help others, at some point Dominio will appear saying that the results are not acceptable and that Mitts' technologies are more of a hindrance than a help. In short, in this route, the MC must help Mitts prove to Dominion that her technology is beneficial to Utopia's interests.

Rosita: A Demon that is responsible for convincing as many humans as possible to choose hell over utopia. Let's say everyone was surprised that this honey bun was a demon and not an angel. She also owns a restaurant that resembles a Diner from the 90s, and probably offers jobs there to those new to hell. But before being a demon she was a human who failed to meet the requirements of utopia, and this feeling of failure has always accompanied her since she was alive until today. Her route would be for MC to help her at her restaurant and help Rosita overcome her insecurities.

Noel: He was definitely a goth in life and as Kalei was a very religious person, when he died he would definitely go to utopia but was attacked by a geist, which made it impossible for him to take the tests to enter utopia. His initial route is when the MC refuses to go to Utopia and stay with Noel and DJ in limbo. The route would involve the MC helping Noel adapt to his life in limbo and battles against the Hordes, at some point Noel would become the King of Limbo and would surprisingly renege on the deal with Dominio and say that limbo would be fine without the utopia help.

Irene:Irene was a frustrated woman in life just accepting everything that came in front of her without hesitation just trying to do what any human being should do. Which resulted in a frustrating high school relationship, a frustrating job until his frustrating death. It was quite surprising for her that there was life and death and she saw it as a way to start over and be a new Her. In this route the MC will help Irene to discover herself as a person and help her life stop being so frustrating, Ramon will also be part of it as a little jealous of the Mc, but probably understanding that he and Irene would never work...

Okay, I must admit that there were some that I had more ideas for than others but I'm happy with the result.

[star-going-supernova]

Can you write some badass Gregory? In the games nobody was really around to witness him surviving and doing an awesome job for a child so maybe get everyone’s reactions?

Gregory doing an insanely impressive thing without thinking:

The animatronics & Vanessa: !!!!

Freddy clutching his chest: that’s my superstar!!

This is tumblr generated prompt number 65 and marks the halfway point of this round! I’m a big fan of competent/bamf Gregory, enough so that I feel like I’m running out of slightly plausible scenarios to put this kid in to highlight that, lol. I ended up repurposing the premise of an old ficlet that I never finished, so, context: there’s a handful of kids trapped in the pizzaplex that Vanny’s looking to pick off one by one, like a game. Gregory’s thirteen here!

title taken from an old short story of the same name

The Most Dangerous Game

Gregory silently grit his teeth together, legs aching from how long he’d been crouching in place. Behind him were the two younger kids he’d found—seven-year-old Jenna and ten-year-old Delaney. He didn’t know how many of them were trapped inside the pizzaplex; he didn’t know how many were dead already. 

“Okay,” he whispered as Roxy finally disappeared into the east arcade. “Ready?” 

Both girls nodded, their fingers tightly linked together. Jenna was crying. He wanted nothing more than to get there somewhere safe, or as safe as any place could be in this hellhole. 

He took Jenna’s other hand, keeping her between him and Delaney, and then he pulled them out of the photo booth they’d been huddled in for ages. To the younger kids’ credit, they kept up with him and did so quietly as he ran as fast as he dared to the escalators. Gregory kept a careful eye on the arcade entrance, but it stayed Roxy-free as they cautiously started down the steps. 

He dared to breathe a sigh of relief when they reached the middle level, but they kept going. He was aiming for the ground floor. 

Their ultimate goal was the daycare. Sun was odd, not murderous, and hopefully by the time Cassie was done with him, whatever weird glitch had him so twitchy and at-odds with his other half would be fixed. 

As much as he hated it, as much as he wanted to keep all of them with him where he could protect them himself, Gregory had to leave the girls behind if he was going to find and rescue as many kids as he could. He’d already seen one too-young dead body. He refused to stand by and let the crazy bunny lady get to another. For that, he needed to move fast. He couldn’t do that with tag-alongs. 

Their little trio reached the ground floor without alerting anyone to their presence, which was all Gregory could have asked for. His eyes automatically scanned their immediate surroundings for a hiding place, even as he hurried them along to get out of the extremely exposed atrium. 

Their luck ran out before they could find cover. He heard the heavy, clunking footsteps first, rushing closer. In addition to the character animatronics, the bunny lady had unleashed a horde of creepy endoskeletons to hunt her victims down. 

There was something uniquely terrifying about the skeletal, wide-eyed robot bearing down on them. Its face was so blank, and unlike the band, they didn’t speak. 

Gregory blew out a sharp breath and herded the girls toward the wall before going to meet the robot head-on. He freed his sole weapon from his makeshift belt holster: a crowbar, snatched from the construction area around the raceway. 

The only silver lining with the robots was that they were dumber than a box of rocks. The endo just rushed for Gregory, not even trying to dodge when he wound up and swung. It might have looked intimidating with its wide shoulders and large hands, but there were so many delicate wires and moving parts exposed along its spine and clavicle.

The crowbar’s hooked end tore through a lot of that, leaving the endoskeleton twitching. He lashed out, kicking one of its ball-jointed knees backward. It collapsed sideways, sparks flying, and Gregory clubbed the back of its head until it had stopped moving. 

Sliding the crowbar away, Gregory gave himself a little shake to loosen up his tense shoulders, then hurried back to the girls. They stared at him with wide, awed eyes,

“Whoa,” Jenna whispered. 

“That was awesome!” Delaney whisper-shouted. 

Gregory smiled weakly. “Thanks. Now, c’mon. We’ve gotta keep moving.” 

They both nodded, and he was at least a little gratified that neither of them looked quite so scared. Dodging STAFF bots by the dozens, their progress was slow but steady. At Gregory’s direction, during their one close encounter, they scooted along the floor, hidden by a large walled planter, staying out of Chica’s sight. 

It was the tensest game of hide and seek Gregory had ever played. 

But at last, they slipped through the doors into the hall outside the daycare. The home stretch. 

Just as Gregory carefully closed the doors, a child’s scream echoed through the pizzaplex. He froze, instinct tearing him in two. He wanted to rush out there and find and help whoever’d probably just been caught. But he couldn’t leave Jenna and Delaney behind, not when they were so close to being safe-ish. 

Biting back curses, he took their hands and rushed them through the hall to the door to the actual daycare room. 

“Are you gonna go save them?” Delaney asked. Jenna looked to be on the verge of tears again. 

“I’m gonna do my best,” Gregory swore. “But I have to make sure you guys are okay first.” 

Delaney nodded, and Jenna sniffled and asked, “Will you come back?”

She was too young for him to make a morbid joke that only death could keep him away. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll come back, and I’ll bring more kids when I do.” 

He hoped he wasn’t setting himself up to be a liar. 

The daycare was still brightly lit, and Gregory rushed to the railing. “Cassie?” he hissed, loud as he dared. 

“I’m here!” she called. “I’m in the play structure with Eclipse.” 

He paused in his move toward the slide. “With who?”

Her shrug was audible. “Whatever I did to fix Sun and Moon brought out Eclipse. He’s nice, promise, and way more, uh, reasonable, I guess.” 

Gregory ushered Jenna and Delaney down the slide. Eclipse, apparently, was waiting at the edge of the ball pit. “Welcome, welcome,” he said cheerfully, but Gregory could hear some well-hidden tension. As he gently lifted the girls out, he said to Gregory, “You must be Cassie’s friend! She’s told me a lot about you.” 

Gregory leaned up over the ledge, waving at Cassie, who was indeed inside the play structure. Delaney led Jenna over to one of the ramps that would led up to her. It wasn’t a bad place to hide; she was easily out of sight of anyone who tried to scope out the daycare from the balcony.

He almost wished she could go with him. Cassie would be able to keep up with him and watch his back. Or, she would’ve been able to, if not for the broken leg the crazy lady had given her by dropping her down an elevator shaft. 

“You’re not staying, are you?” Eclipse said. 

Gregory dropped back into the ball pit, already sidling toward the slide to climb out. “There’s more kids out there,” he explained helplessly. “Someone’s got to help them.” 

“You’re a kid, star-shine.” 

Gregory pressed his lips together and didn’t say anything. 

Eclipse sagged in place. 

“Keep them safe,” Gregory demanded. “Lock the doors, don’t trust any adults until this place opens up in the morning.” 

“No one will touch them,” Eclipse promised, hand over his heart, or where a heart would be. “I hope I see you again soon, Gregory.” 

“Yeah,” he muttered, ducking into the slide and scrambling up it, sneakers squeaking. “Me too.” 

[sepublic]

It's kinda funny seeing people mourn the original concept for The Lego Ninjago Movie, which involved the ninja traveling back in time to stop the Great Devourer from biting Garmadon, and fighting snake warriors. Because we still kinda got that, in the very same year no less?

Hands of Time is an interesting case in that it's kind of a transitional season, the end of an era; It came out the same year as The Lego Ninjago Movie, and was meant to take up the Winter slot before TLNM showed up for Summer. It was our last season with the traditional designs, and for a while our last season with a Weekend Whip-style remix of intro, before TLNM and led to a soft reboot in the Oni trilogy. The Oni trilogy gave us updated designs based on TLNM's, under the original plan of attracting new fans from THAT continuity over to the main one. I believe it's even jokingly implied within the show that the butterfly effects from the time travel of S7 led to the S8 redesigns! And Legacy kinda contributes to that idea...?

The point is, 2017 was a strange year for Ninjago with a lot of change, even in different writers who temporarily replaced the Hagemans, who eventually did leave for Wildbrain to take over. One could argue Hands of Time was created as a way to pad out time between Day of the Departed and TLNM's releases! And Day of the Departed drew a lot on prior Ninjago entries, so it was like a whole year just waiting for TLNM to premiere before applying it to mainline Ninjago canon.

And I think that applies to Hands of Time, because a lot of it is based on that old TLNM concept I mentioned earlier! Early designs for the snake warriors from the first draft of the film were repurposed for the Vermillion in Hands of Time. It was a story about time travel, and so is Hands of Time. The Great Devourer plays an important role, being the incident the ninja are trying to prevent in TLNM's first draft, and in HoT, the mother of the Vermillion horde.

Obviously there are differences; TLNM's first draft centered around the past as the primary setting of the story, and it was about the heroes trying to undo a past evil. Whereas for HoT, time travel isn't achieved until the last episode, and it's about villains trying to undo past good. But a lot of the concepts were clearly carried over and repurposed, because they were perfectly good concepts drawing on previous ideas mainline Ninjago already explored (snake warriors, the Great Devourer's legacy, time travel).

A few years later we even got the Golden Hour short, which continues the story of HoT just a bit more, and has Wu almost allowing Acronix to unwittingly prevent Garmadon from being bitten by the Great Devourer; The original goal of TLNM's time travel draft. And probably how that draft would've ended, if Lego had rolled with that plot instead.

So while some are insisting TLNM should've been about this original concept, it's ironic to me because we technically still did get that first draft, in the same year as TLNM, right before it! So 2017 really is the year of TLNM, all of it, even Hands of Time. And as I said with Day of the Departed, it also draws upon a lot of past Ninjago events, lore, and concepts, such as the Serpentine War, Elemental Masters, Great Devourer, and Chen alluding to Ray and Maya. Krux was introduced via his alias in Day of the Departed. It kinda feels like a remix, like the Legacy and Core lines we'd later get.

That again gets me back to the idea that it's almost as if Lego was trying to do a final callback/retrospective on classic Ninjago as we knew it, to prepare us for a new era heralded by TLNM, and they used up basically a whole year as they waited for the people working on TLNM to figure things out. Before DotD is Skybound, which is technically retconned, and that makes Possession feel like the last big arc for Ninjago (before TLNM) that brought new, lasting things and wasn't worried about being second fiddle to some other production. It did give us ghosts, the sixteen realms, and establish Nya as a primary ninja. Possession is also the latest in terms of Legacy representation; Skybound, Day of the Departed, and Hands of Time are left out.