#what exactly were the factors involved

[dennythemenace]

Seeing as how Marcus and Luther had a very similar if not the same strength power, it leads one to wonder how many similar situations are there between the 43 kids. Is there a certain factor in the alien dust that leads to certain powers?

[supermarine-silvally]

🍐 + Yara pls!! -🍂

🍐 What is your OC’s mentality? Are they overall positive? Negative? A bit of both? Describe their thought patterns and reasoning behind their choice making!

Jumbo OC Ask Game

Yara describes herself as a realist. She doesn't see a point in being overly optimistic or overly pessimistic. She's most interested in assessing the most likely outcome of a scenario as well as the standard deviations. She has Future Sight Haki, so that has impacted how she's likely to make decisions in terms of clearing her mind and focusing on possible outcomes of any situation.

[dxxdhood]

drains me slowly

pairing: wade wilson x gn!reader

summary: deadpool finally invites you, the coworker he has a massive crush on, over, which means the two of you end up doing more than just watching a movie.

tags: smut (18+), sub!wade wilson, dom!reader, pain kink, use of superpowers to fuel a pain kink, light masochism, teasing, gentle dom, hand job, scratching, body worship

wc: 3.3k

a/n: fic inspired by the new deadpool movie coming out!!! also, title is from love me dead by ludo.

No surprise that Wade wasn’t exactly anyone’s favorite– that goes for among the heroes he’s worked with and throughout his life in general. He’s – to put it in the kindest way anyone’s ever told him – fucking annoying. Oh, he’s more than aware that he’s a little too out-of-pocket, abrasive, impulsive– a nightmare to interact with, really. And those were just the recent comments made by the closest thing he has to coworkers! The shit he heard from people growing up was leagues worse. 

Look, having a rough start in life isn’t uncommon and he’s sure as hell not gonna get the tiny violin out for himself and throw his own little pity party, but he’s grown enough since his healing factor got beat out of him to acknowledge that he’s had it tough over the years.

He’s still going, though! Yeah, he may not always be the best at doing his laundry quick enough to get any clean clothes to wear, or at stopping his room from becoming cluttered with too many half-empty water bottles, but he’s still making it by, day by day.

But, well, it’s still really hard to constantly put himself out there, get assigned – or infinitely more likely, just shove himself into – whatever jobs or missions he feels like taking on when everyone treats him like Jar Jar Binks.

That was until you came along. So, obviously you’re crazy hot – he’s gotta get that out of the way first – but more than that, you were confident. Competent, too, and those rarely coincide in Wade’s experience. You mostly worked on call, joining the occasional mission, battle, or investigation because your mutant powers came in handy often, but you also still kept up with your day job. Honestly, Wade thinks the reason why you weren’t always present in fights was to stop the other mutants from being out of a job. Your ability to slowly deteriorate surrounding biological tissue, while horrifying and a pain in the ass to control – your words – was basically winning on easy mode.

But no, you were adamant about keeping your involvement with the X-Men infrequent– only joining when your presence was absolutely necessary. Apparently nonstop high stress situations aren't good for your mental health– who knew?

And he wants to pretend he became obsessed with you because of all those things, and of course they helped, but really, you had him at hello. Or well, you bothering to say hello and actually talk to him in the first place, to ask him questions about his life in moments of downtime where usually he’d be left with an unenthusiastic audience instead of a warm-hearted listener who actually laughed at his jokes.

So, of course, he has to go and fuck it up.

…

“So, glad that’s over, huh?” Wade says through a smile, the whites of his mask squeezing as his cheeks rise. “Speaking of over, you wanna come?”

“Over?” you shake your head a little, flashing your teeth as you try and comprehend him. “Right after we took on a whole crime ring?”

“Well, what a better time to unwind, am I right?”

“Oh?” you raise your eyebrows. “We’re unwinding?”

It’s small, but you swear Wade ups his talking speed, “Well, yeah, you know. Watch a movie, order in, show you my Pokemon cards, the works.”

You hum, pretending to consider it, “Depends, you got a holo Charizard?”

And now, for sure, he exhales his relief. “You insult me.”

The two of you enter his apartment not long after you’re dismissed from the mission, and Wade briefly excuses himself to change out of his suit. Making yourself at home, you take a seat on the couch and glance across his living room. His apartment is surprisingly nice. The kitchen and living room are one large, open space with a sleek, modern design. Also, you’d assume someone as chaotic as Wade would keep their house in a messier state, or hell, at least a little dusty, but the living room is spotless. Maybe he cleaned recently? What, was he planning on inviting someone over?

Snorting as you shake your head, a small click from across the hall catches your attention.

You’ve only seen Wade on the job, so naturally he’s always been wearing his red suit, but for some reason, you never stopped to picture him wearing civilian clothes. Actually, now that you’re seeing him in a sweatshirt and sweatpants – awfully warm for this weather – you’re struggling to reconcile the image of him you had in your head with the person right in front of you.

Well, at least until Wade brings up a fist to cover his mouth, illustrating his nervousness, and the tension fizzles out. Only Wade has body language that cartoonishly exaggerated.

“Nice sweats, green looks good on you.”

Wade pauses for a moment, registering your words before he giggles softly, arm falling to his side, “I’ve been thinking about changing the color of my suit. You know, hiding all the blood is great and all, but sometimes I gotta wonder – could this thing be more flattering?”

He walks over with a spring in his step before sitting by your side. Cutely, he wraps you up in the larger blanket first before settling the smaller, throw blanket over himself. You try your hardest not to show your confusion outwardly, but seeing Wade up close now has you questioning his outfit all the more.

He’s a bit tall, so the sweatpants don’t go all the way down to his ankles, but Wade’s wearing calf socks, as if he specifically were trying to avoid them being uncovered. Also, his hoodie’s easily a size or two larger, which makes it the perfect thing to wear to lounge around and watch a movie in, but also, the sleeves cover his entire hand sans his fingers. From the little you can see of them, they look puckered in scars.

But obviously Wade’s hands are scarred– he’s a mercenary. He’s handled all sorts of weapons and been in hundreds of fights over the years. You weren’t expecting his skin to be baby-smooth. 

What’s interesting to you is why he’d go through all the trouble to hide it.

Also, yeah, the most obvious pointers were that the hood of his sweatshirt is up even though you two are indoors in his own home and – how could you forget this one – his Deadpool mask is still on.

Was he just uncomfortable with sharing his identity in general or was he specifically trying to shove distance between the two of you? Whatever, if he doesn’t want to take his mask off with you, he doesn’t have to. You feel a distinct pang in your chest, but you try not to let it color how you respond to him. He’s more than in the right to only share what he feels most comfortable with.

Wade’s been fiddling with the remote while you’ve been – hopefully – subtly looking him over, and the screen finally changes from a streaming service page to the opening of the movie.

“We’re watching The Princess Bride? I didn’t take you for a romantic.”

He bats his eyes – at least, you think he does, given the mask– and speaks in a sweet voice “Why, me? Oh please, I know romance. I’m not going to invite a lovely, gorgeous, incredible person over and force them to watch Die Hard on the first–”

His back straightens out like he’s been electrocuted before he forcibly relaxes his posture to finish his thought.

“Hang-out.”

Okay, you want to go easy on him, especially because he seems so tense, but you can’t just let that one slide. You close the small distance remaining between the two of you, causing your entire side to press against his. Even through his sweatshirt, you can feel how warm he is.

“Mmm, just a hang out?” you mumble, sliding your head onto his shoulder. You’ve done this before, either for comedic effect or just in an attempt to push his buttons the same way he always tries to push yours – which, despite his best efforts, always ends up endearing him to you instead of bothering you – but never in a context like this.

He inhales sharply, and you count the seconds until he finally lets himself release it. Sometimes, you think he takes his healing factor for granted.

Turning his head to peer down at you, Wade considers you for a moment, keeping his face and body language deceptively neutral. You try your hardest to keep your eyes focused on the movie and your body loose and comfortable.

“You want this to be a date?” he says, flat.

“Why, thank you for asking, dear sir,” you copy his sweet voice from earlier before returning to your normal. “Yes, Wade, I like you.”

“I–” he starts, but the words get caught on their way out. His fingers bury themselves in the material of his sweatpants, and the movement draws your attention to them again. Shades of blotchy red and pink curve all across his skin.

Wade doesn’t say anything, which is concerning enough on its own, but following your confession, you feel like he’s more than out of his element. 

“That’s why you invited me over, right?” you try and help him out. “You feel the same, too.”

And then, feeling bold, you turn your head to face his still mask-covered head and kiss him lightly on the cheek. Instantly, you see fireworks go off inside him, because Wade hurriedly shuts the TV off and runs off to close the blinds. There’s barely enough light in the room now to make out shapes, but apparently Wade doesn’t take any issue because he peels his mask back and kisses you on the lips.

His lips are textured, and your intuition flashes quietly in the back of your mind, but for right now, you focus on how energetic he is. If his body is warm, his mouth feels like it’s on fire. He’s constantly moving, trying to experience all of you as fast as possible. 

It’s making your face heat up, how quickly he demands your complete attention and how relentless he is in grabbing it. Wade bites your bottom lip, causing you to gasp into him, and he uses the opportunity to explore across your own teeth and tongue. After a few more seconds, you break away, needing the space to breathe.

“Holy shit,” you whisper, voice rough.

“You’re telling me,” Wade coughs out. “We could’ve been doing that this whole time?”

“Well, all you had to do was ask.”

And although you can’t see him, which you know is the point, you understand something in him has shifted. He gets up from the couch, takes you by the hand, and leads you towards his room. His pace is so quick, you barely comprehend his actions until you’re both standing right in front of his bed.

“Is this okay?” he asks, quiet. You don’t think you’ve ever heard him stifle the amount of words he let loose before.

“Yes, of course it is. But Wade, we have to turn on at least a lamp or something in here.”

“We do?”

“Yeah,” you pause to give him a second to think. “I can’t see you at all like this.”

“What if – and you're just going to have to trust me on this one – you’d prefer it this way,” Wade’s voice is light, but it feels like it’s cracking at the edges.

“And why’s that?”

Not like you’d be able to see, but the anxiety radiating off of him makes him sound wide-eyed, “Huh? Oh, I– uh…”

“Look, if you’re worried about how I’m going to react to you having a bunch of scars– don’t. I don’t mind,” the sound of fabric rustling in front of you makes you think he just flinched. “I figured it out. You’re not sneaky.”

“You say that, but…”

“Wade, I don’t care. And I mean that kindly! Really, it doesn’t bother me.”

Wade starts pacing in front of you, nearly tripping on the leg of the bedpost, “Look, I appreciate the whole hero act you got going on here – really fits you good, you should totally quit your day job – but you don’t have to force yourself, I–”

“Wade, you either confront your insecurities head on or I’m not doing this with you. I told you what I think, the only person who’s going to worry about how you look here is you. We either have sex with a light on or not at all, okay?”

No one speaks for a few seconds once you finish saying your piece, and you cringe, realizing how forceful you must have come off. You’re about to speak up again to apologize when you hear a shudder-filled exhale from a few feet away.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he groans. “You’re so hot when you're putting people in their place.”

Your lips curl into a shaky smile, “Yeah, what else do you think is hot?”

And you can practically hear the gears turning in his head from here.

…

It’s actually happening. No fucking way he didn’t dream this up. But you were pretty adamant about him getting his head in the game in order for you guys to actually get down and dirty, so for you, he tries to keep his train of thought as focused as possible–  a big ask.

“Bossing anyone – everyone, especially me – around. You using your abilities–” you reach over and find Wade’s hand before running your fingers up his arm. “Shit, umm, using your abilities in general, but, umm, I really like when I’m there.”

“Oh?” you giggle. “When you get to watch, or?”

“When I get to feel.”

Your hand moves over to the nape of his neck, reaching under his hood and mask, to rub at his rough skin. Wade’s nerves light on fire as he waits for you to respond– for some reason, it never feels like your words come out fast enough.

“You got a thing for pain, Wilson?”

He chuckles, “You’d be surprised.”

“Okay, but are you sure? I can try, but it might not be all that good for you.”

“Don’t worry,” he thinks back to all those times he had a hard on while the two of you were fighting together. “It’ll be great for me.”

You hum, “Alright, then, but you tell me to stop the second you don’t like something, okay?”

“Aye, aye, captain,” he salutes, though you probably can’t see it. “And, same goes for you.”

“What a gentleman, letting me destroy him and giving me an out.”

He’s blushing something furious and he’s never been more grateful for the dark, “Anything for you.”

Those are the last words he whispers before he begins undressing. He knows you probably meant for him to strip with the light on, but he’s really not so sure he could stomach being looked at like a bug under a microscope. The attention, while electrifying, was already starting to get to him, so he lets himself stay in his comfort zone a little longer. As a treat. 

Once his sweats are off, he hesitantly peels off his mask before slipping into bed, keeping most of his body under the covers. After shutting his eyes, he clicks the lamplight on.

You’re not saying anything. That’s– a sign? A good one, a bad one, Wade doesn’t know. He’s trying so hard to keep his breathing steady, but he can feel his body start shaking all on its own.

You join him on the bed, kneeling next to him, before your warm breath falls across his cheeks as you kiss his forehead. Only then does he open his eyes, and you reward him by cupping his cheek in your hand.

“There,” you say. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Wade gets the strong urge to snort, and so he does, but your eyes narrow. There’s a soft scratching at the back of his skull as you snake your hand over, and quickly you dig your nails in slightly. Wade has to bite his tongue to keep the noise in.

“I’m sorry, is that funny to you?”

“No!” he whispers sharply as you bring your hand down to scratch along the line of his neck.

“Good, seems like you’re learning.”

You kiss him, teeth clacking together at first before Wade melts into it. Your hand is still slowly exploring his body, running along the line of his shoulder and towards his upper arm. When you reach his bicep, you very obviously squeeze the muscle there, and you let out a pleased sigh as you begin groping in earnest.

He wants to turn to hide his face in the pillow, not sure how to react to all the positive attention and appreciation, but you catch him trying to turn away, and you kiss him deeper.

While one hand begins to explore his pecs and abs, your other hand scratches down his v-line, softly caressing the skin of his inner thighs before moving around to squeeze his ass.

Wade rewards you with a small whine, and you carefully trail a finger down his dick. You move in to whisper in his ear, “You’re so hot, I’m not forgiving you for hiding for so long.”

Trying to stifle the embarrassing moan that he knows will come out, he bites down on his lip hard, but you take the hand not teasing his cock to gently pry his lip away.

“From now on, I get to hear you, okay?” you say and Wade nods rapidly.

You take the moment you wrap your hand around the base of his cock, and after giving him a second to ready himself, you ask, “I’m going to use it now. Tell me if you want to stop.”

“Okay–” he responds before he feels the sweet sensation of you jerking him off coupled with your power. It’s a humming, dull feeling of pain resting in the background– almost like the sensation of being choked except it’s affecting his entire body. Wade feels like there’s a weight pinning down each of his limbs and it’s so freeing– so relaxing.

He sighs and turns his head to the side, letting out a deep moan when you up the pace of your hand and bring the other to fondle his balls.

“How is it?” you ask, sweat dripping down your brow at trying to control your ability. Sure, it’s  powerful and at times pretty horrifying, but Wade always loved how he was essentially immune. At the same rate you could destroy the flesh around you, he could heal his own right back. Just knowing that made him feel good, somehow, like he was made perfectly for you.

“It’s good– so good, I–” he nearly shouts, forgetting about the neighbors.

“Yeah, baby? What do you need?”

At hearing the pet name, he straight up whines as he tries to bury his hands in the sheets instead of his own thighs. 

“Not sure, umm, a little more–”

And he doesn’t know which god he has to thank for putting you on this planet, but he’s willing to pay them all a visit. You read him like he’s not some mess, some walking disaster nobody bothers paying attention to, and you give him what you know he needs.

From the base of his chin, you drag your hand in a deep scratch across his neck, chest, and stomach, your eyes watching the pink lines blend in with his scarred skin. It’s a flashing pain, sharp like being scalded and it feels so good mixed with the blunt feel of being under your power.

“I’m gonna–” he says, and of course, you seem to already know. He cums with a deep grunt, rutting his hips into your fist before he thrusts his head forward to kiss you again.

As soon as he comes down, he pulls away only slightly, just so he can say what he’s been wanting to say since he met you.

“Thank–”

You cut him off with another kiss, because sometimes, he really does need to shut up. 

[greenglowinspooks]

Hey. Shakes you by the shoulders. DCxDP where Eobard Thawne is Danny’s cool distant “uncle” that he never sees but always sends in the coolest gifts for the holidays.

~

Danny had grown used to seeing people injured at a surprisingly young age.

He wasn’t injured on the regular, or witness to some sort of extraordinary amount of violence; his parents’ lab was just… very volatile, and they were unprofessionally lax on safety measures on the best of days.

As such, when he saw an unconscious, incredibly injured man wearing some sort of superhero suit in their backyard in the early hours of the morning (he had gotten up to get a glass of water when he heard a thump outside), he didn’t panic, as any young child should have in his situation.

No. Instead, Danny dragged the man inside (with considerable difficulty; despite how thin he was, he was heavy), treated his wounds as best he could (it’s difficult for a child younger than 10 to do stitches, you understand), put a blanket over the man, and went back to bed.

After losing a fight to the Flash and passing out in a random suburban lawn, the last thing Eobard was expecting to wake up to was a small child sitting on the floor in front of him, noisily eating a bowl of cereal.

(He had thought, maybe he would have been found by the Flash and brought to some Justice League holding cell. Or, found by a civilian, and brought to the police. Perhaps, in his feverish state, he had remembered the prison he ended up in from his time, with their brands and chemicals and torturous therapies.)

For some unknown reason, this child had found him, not recognized him as the monster he is (perhaps due to the boy’s age), and helped him—even if his healing factor would have fixed him eventually, having all his parts in the right order certainly sped up the process.

Usually he wouldn’t care for civilians. He’d killed enough that he’d lost count what felt like an eternity ago—and yet, somehow, he felt indebted to this boy. This boy, who had helped him so selflessly, who was so entirely clueless to the evil right in front of him.

This boy, who was all alone in an empty house, whose sister was away, whose parents had gone on a trip and left him behind.

(It didn’t matter the explanation the boy gave for it, Eobard’s mind whispered to itself regardless. Kin. Like calling to like.)

And so, he worked hard to free himself from this debt he had incurred.

He traveled through time, working his way into the family whilst posing as a distant relative. It was remarkably easy; the Fentons didn’t have an incredible memory of their relatives; all he had to do was forge a few papers and mention a few people and he was now “Uncle Eo”.

It was, however, taxing on the mind. These people were absurdly friendly, not to mention talkative. The effort had become a multi-year operation, popping in every now and then for large family gatherings and home visits.

It felt… nice, to be wanted for once. To be noticed in his absence for more than just his status.

To be liked.

He made sure to send the boy a gift on the right holidays, as well as on his birthdays. With his skillset, it wasn’t too difficult to follow him around and see what he liked and wanted. It also wasn’t difficult to spy in when he opened them, to ensure that he had done an acceptable job.

Of course, he couldn’t let this sort of thing cut into his time spent fighting the Flash, so he wasn’t too present. The last thing he wanted was to drag trouble into the boy’s life from his presence.

But then, it happened.

He found out that this boy, and the one known in his time as Phantom, were one and the same.

It was, as a historian, thrilling.

It was, as a villain, horrifying.

In all his travels, he had never intended to involve himself with that mysterious being which shadowed the Justice League. That ghost with the power, in some timelines, to bring about the end of all things.

Of course, he was also capable of doing that, but it isn’t exactly fun to meet someone who’s powers are a match for your own.

Especially if you couldn’t find it in yourself to end him, should he make himself your enemy.

Still, he had a debt to repay, and a boy to look after.

He delivered things to the boy’s room to help him; tactical gloves, a lightweight protective suit, weapons and equipment. All uncredited, since the boy seemed to value the idea of a secret identity.

He took it upon himself to shift the odds in his favor a few times, even; making faster-than-light adjustments to the boy and his combatants during fights to shift the odds in his favor.

Somewhere along the years, he had formed some sort of odd affection for the boy, if he was capable of doing so at all.

And so, when that ghost-boy sought his Uncle Eo out all the way in Central City, carved open and scarred, a distant look in his eyes, he took him in without a second thought.

He would protect this boy, who once had protected him.

[mullermilkshake]

I’ll look after you, second

Part 4 <- Part 5 -> Part 6

Things are tense, but you come up with a solution.

Yandere!Jinwoo Sung x Fem Hunter!reader Tags - Smut, Car sex, Vaginal Sex, p in v sex, quickie, unprotected sex, creampie, trying for a baby, breeding, possessive thoughts, mentions of infertility, strained pressure in a relationship, Jinwoo just wants a family with you

<<< For more Dark/Yandere content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

<<< Or back to this fic's Master list. >>>

EDIT - I have only watched the anime and haven't gotten round to reading the manhwa yet. Please refrain from spoilers.

Jinwoo never got a chance to fuck you before the association dinner, you trudged off towards the bedroom and slammed the door shut for a whole hour before emerging in a dress that took his breath away.

It was evident that you’d been crying and for the first time, Jinwoo was unsure how to approach you.

Besides making his feelings partly known that first night, there’d been too much emphasis from the association that you and he never fully had that chance to explore each other emotionally.

You were well aware of Jinwoo’s thoughts towards you, yet you never acted on them, not unless it was in the bedroom. You cooed all sorts of little sweet nothings into his ear, and only then did you make him think you felt that way. As soon as he came and you were finished, it all stopped.

He craved more than just a facade. More than just a show for the association. He wanted you to want him too. He had already killed for you to ensure you slept next to him at night, that you uttered his name with pleasure and ensured he was the first and last person you saw in the morning and before bed.

So why was everything falling apart and becoming so difficult?

Jinwoo wasn’t sure, he wanted to get to the bottom of it, so he thought of the most logical way and just asked on the drive to the restaurant. “So… I know things have been difficult. I wanted to let you know that I appreciate everything you’re doing.”

“You do?”

“I do. It’s not easy and I can’t imagine how awkward things are for you…” He started soft and respectful for now. “We’re in this together and I want you to know that just because the association wants to turn their backs on us in a month, it doesn’t mean I will.”

You were silent for a while, looking over at Jinwoo in the car every so often from his periphery, he could tell that you were conflicted. Each time you opened your mouth to speak, you stopped yourself until he looked over at you behind a red traffic light.

“I guess we haven’t really had time to find more about each other, huh?” You looked down at your laced fingers nestled neatly on your lap. “I guess this whole thing has thrown me a little.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“It’s just… If I’m less involved with you, Jinwoo, then I won’t get attached. And the pressure of all these negative tests is stressing me out- I want to get to know you better, but Jin-chul said it himself, in a month they’ll split us up, so what’s the point?”

What’s the point? The point is everything, it’s the very essence of this programme, the point is to get to know each other and make a baby. When Jinwoo eventually got you pregnant, because he wouldn’t ever give up, he wanted to be a family. That was his main goal.

He didn’t want some other woman’s child, he wanted yours. 

“There’s a point, but that’s probably a contributing factor to why nothing’s happened yet… Y’know, the whole ‘why bother if it isn’t going to work’, I think we need to reevaluate our stance on this.”

“So… this is all my fault?”

“No, no, no, I never said that.” Well, in honesty, it was. But how could he tell you that when you looked so hurt as he pulled up in the darkened parking lot, right by the streetlamp with the busted light. “All I’m saying is that it’s a cycle, and we’re stuck in it, so let’s pull ourselves out of it, okay?”

“So what are you suggesting exactly, Jinwoo?”

He had one idea, and that was to fuck you senseless in the car right now, but he went with the secondary option instead. “Why don’t we go on a real date and see how you feel then?”

When you turned to him, pulling off your seatbelt in the most adorable way, Jinwoo saw the cogs turning. “You want that?”

“I told you how I felt about you, remember? This is more than just an agreement to me, and it can be for you if you let it. But it’s your decision to make.” 

Making it sound like your choice made it easier for your brain to comprehend someone else making decisions for you without even realising. Eventually, Jinwoo would coerce you into picking every option he chose, darting around the wrong ones like a river around a rock.

The right choices were the ones involving Jinwoo.

“I don’t-” You didn’t flinch, not at Jinwoo’s touch to brush a hair from your face. “I don’t know what I want.”

“I can show you a few options. If that’s what you want?” Jinwoo’s touch never let up, his thumb traced your bottom lip, his eyes watching you softly under the interior light. “I want you to be comfortable and look forward to being with me, not dreading it.”

You swallowed deeply, biting your bottom lip and contemplating your life choices. “Why do you- how am I good enough to-”

Jinwoo kissed you, it was the only way to show you instead of spilling pointless words for you to deny. Actions spoke louder than words and it was about time you saw that. The kiss was quick and sweet, firm enough to mean business but shallow enough to stop you bolting.

And when you kissed him back, it was a sealed moment in the relationship. Not once outside of the bedroom had you kissed or even spoken about Jinwoo’s feelings about you since the beginning. He hoped once Hae-in fell pregnant, you’d stop with the barrage of guilt for sitting on Jinwoo’s cock in Hae-in's place. She was pregnant now and it was about time you were.

It was probably the reason Jinwoo was caught off guard when you pawed at his suit jacket, becoming more feverish and passionate so quickly, going as far as to turn the interior light off.

“What do you need?” He managed to get in between touches, heated exchanges in the passenger side after you slipped your stilettos off.

“Want you to- I need you to fuck me.” You were already hiking your dress up.

To fuck here, in the parking lot when the resturant was maybe fifty metres away, the association table most probably already collecting with hunters and you wanted to fuck?

Jinwoo was already at half mast just from your kiss and here you were, about to slip your underwear off.

“Leave them on-” Jinwoo launched his driver's seat back as far as it could possibly go and took a hold of your waist, pulling you on top of him as close as he could.

He gripped your hips and weighed you down over his growing erection until you ground on him instinctively. You were beautiful, breasts stuffed into your dress jittering perfectly with each stolen breath to make the car windows steam.

“What’s caused this?” Jinwoo wasn’t sure why he asked, but he did.

“I-I don’t know, I just need you right now.”  It was good enough for him, you caused friction over his suit pants that drove him wild.

Jinwoo chuckled, shoving his face against your chest and trying his damndest to keep his composure. He couldn’t ruin you, not right here before the dinner, but he could leave you with a present. He pulled your dress up further, past your waist and admired your body begging for his touch, each kiss was electric, every touch a lit fire under his skin. You were coming round to this idea eventually, the only thing getting in his way of keeping you permanently was a baby.

Before Jinwoo could really settle himself in the moment, you were tugging at his belt, lips locked in a hurried fashion with feverish tongues exploring each other's tastes. You tasted of spearmint toothpaste, gentle, refreshing mint right on his tongue. Jinwoo wondered what he tasted like to you, but that thought quickly flew away when you hurriedly pulled out his hardened cock to sit on.

It happened so quickly, yet earned no complaints from either participant.

Jinwoo pulled your lace underwear to the side, the softness gathering at his fingertips as he moved and and slowly pushed the tip of his cock inside you. You sat down quick enough to make him gasp, bottoming out with an overcharged huff, sexually activated.

Perhaps now you and he were joined as one as a couple could be.

You moved, slowly picking up the pace while Jinwoo held on for dear life, cursing under his breath at the very sight of you initiating something like this. It was more than just sex now, that much he understood. How could you say this was just sex?

So beautiful. He wanted so desperately to make you a mommy, filling you up time after time was his only way to truly get that ownership over your fierce independence you displayed out of the public eye. He couldn’t wait to break it down in exchange for codependency. You might be one of the country’s sweetheart S-Ranks, but Jinwoo knew you to be filthy, riled up and stubborn enough to give him a run for his money. Taming that was his ultimate adrenaline rush.

Jinwoo pushed you down further, watching your breasts bounce, the whole car trembling with the anticipation of an orgasm. His kink took over. 

“We’ll finish this tonight, but I’m coming inside you and I want you to keep it in for the entire dinner, can you do that for me?”

You nodded immediately. “Y-yes. Yes.” 

“Good girl.”  

He pulled you down to kiss, both tongues and saliva joining in desperation which seemed to spur you on further, ass bouncing and cupped in his hands for safe keeping. 

“Give it to me- now, I want it now, shit - we’re going to be late-“ 

“Don’t look at the clock, we have plenty of time, hold on.”

Jinwoo fucked you good. The little driven breaths from your lips drove him insane, fingers clenched around his suit lapels for support, ravenous at everything you did. The way your pussy sucked him in like it was meant for him, made for him. Fate enough that you fit so perfectly in his arms, the accentuation of your waist enough for his hands to sit like a carved art piece. So much perfection.

He loved it.

He loved you.

And he’d love the body you got while it made his baby and especially after that.

A family. He wanted a family with you so desperately. Give that to me, please. 

“J-Jinwoo, I’m com- I’m coming- oh fuck!” 

He wanted to kiss you so your moan escaped into his mouth, but that would have been a waste. “Let me hear you, don’t keep it in- please don’t keep it in.” 

You did as you were told and let it out, the most sensual and romantic gesture you had done for Jinwoo to date. When your hips jerked, you pushed Jinwoo’s back into the seat which made his heart swell three times the size.

Perfect. Just perfect. 

“Are you ready for me? Take everything I give you and keep it there-” He pulled you in for one last kiss. “You can’t waste a drop-”

There was something that mulled over in your eyes, like a darkness, but nothing like Jinwoo could produce when he was pissed off. Because you weren’t angry, you weren’t enraged or engulfed with fury. No, you were hungry, ravenous.

“You better fill me up good, or we’ll never make it to that dinner.”

Fuuuck. 

Well that just spurred him on and when Jinwoo did come inside you, it was positively the strongest orgasm he ever had in his life, not just with you, but in his entire existence. He held onto you tight like you would disappear in thin air, like you would leave if he didn’t have you in his clutches already.

Jinwoo wanted to forget about the dinner and in fact, he did forget as his toes tried to curl in his shoes, his knuckles seizing up at his iron grip on your hips and digging into the plush skin that would most definitely bruise tomorrow.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. The scene was sublime, the actions and words and everything happened as it should. Never for a second did he ever think you would do something so risky so early. In the grand scheme of things, two months was nothing, and you were bending to him like you needed him as much as he needed you in no time at all.

When it calmed down, you leant over to kiss him, your lips less passionate and more sweet like honey, though your face did not match it. It was like you were troubled over something you didn’t want to share, or thought it wasn’t worth acknowledging because you smiled sleepily right after.

If Jinwoo blinked at that moment, he would have missed it. So, he took a stab in the dark to gain your trust a little better. “Don’t worry, we still have time to do this.”

“I know… I just- I don’t want to have to start over again because they’re impatient. But…”

“What is it?” Jinwoo ran his fingers over your forearm, tickling them into goosebumps.

“What if I can’t- I mean, they never tested to make sure before we started this and I don’t want to be a disappointment.”

You weren’t really thinking that, were you? This was the association's doing, not yours, and Jinwoo would be damned if he let you think that way, just when you and he were making headway.

“Please don’t think that way. It just takes time, don’t compare yourself to Hae-in, she just got lucky, but we still have time. So let’s make the most of it, hm?”

It seemed to settle you. You didn’t get off of him initially and Jinwoo assumed it was to keep his fluids inside a little while longer, but that wasn’t exactly that. You laid down and rested your head on his shoulder for comfort, you even allowed him to stroke your hair in the process.

“Okay… Alright then, let’s do this. We can do it.”

Well this night became a whole lot more interesting than I initially thought. 

Originally, Jinwoo fully accepted that you were either going to ignore the issue and therefore ignore him, or it would blow up into an argument. Though you never really had it in for Jinwoo, he was the closest one to air your frustrations about the association. He tried to stay on side for the most part, but then he’d say something that didn’t align with your frustration and he’d get both barrels. While he never took it personally, it was getting kind of boring.

So when you and he straightened yourselves up, left the car with you full of his semen and holding hands like a real couple towards the restaurant, Jinwoo had high hopes of succeeding his untouched year long quest.

All he was waiting for now, were those two little lines on a pregnancy test and the first step of keeping you was complete.

One hell of a bumpy ride, but his suspension still seemed intact.

Part 4 <- Part 5 -> Part 6

If you would like to be tagged, please let me know! Thanks so much for all the support on this likes, reblog and comments appreciated! ❤️

Tag list - @bubera974, @snowy-violet, @sky2lar, @starrynights23x, @minh907

@yessirr7, @aussie-boys-wife, @yihona-san06, @mashiromochi, @daiyanomochi

@justatimidcreator, @alia-17, @otomegamesforlife @m00n-estelle, @towomatos,

@stormnightingale, @johnnysactualgf, @johnnysactualgf, @solarisstarrsolomonsbeloved, @notleclerc,

@minkuro, @misakicchi, @lovingyeet, @soft-dots, @gina239,

@sabrina-senpai, @tsukimoon-chan

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the anime or manhwa. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[ewmily]

fallin’ all in you.

negan smith x fem!reader

word count. 1.7k

synopsis. your “enemies-with-benefits” situation is turning into something more, or at least that’s what negan thinks.

notes. smut — slightly angsty sex but also kinda soft?, fingering, making out, unprotected piv, negan’s caught feelings, yearning!! (i’m so delusional)

gif by sweeetestcurse & divider by enchanthings

“This doesn’t mean anything.”

It’s a cruel thing to say in bed—or in your case, the back of his stolen RV. Left in nothing but your undergarments, your bodies were already melded with sweat and fervour, limbs entwined into a tangled frenzy. As if the way you were kissing him back was impersonal—Negan knew you wanted this just as much as he did. The patchy stains of the old leather couch and the low growls of walkers nearby didn’t seem to be obstructing factors; he was simply too engrossed in the taste of your lips, the raw scent of anticipated sex filling his lungs.

You see, your words always said one thing, but your body would say another. With one hand cupping your cheek, locking your swollen lips against his, Negan only needed to sneak his other hand beneath the soft material of your panties, run his fingers through your folds to find that you were absolutely soaked to the core.

At the evidence, he couldn’t help but let out a low, conceited chuckle, pulling away from your mouth as his warm breath feathered over the shell of your ear. “You keep tellin’ that to yourself, darlin’. But just know—” Teasingly, he grazed his two fingers against your walls, coating them with your juices. “I’m exactly what this fuckin’ pussy needs.”

His face hovered over yours as his eyes eagerly scanned your features, searching for even the slightest reaction while his deft fingers continued to stroke your clit. You’ve always tried to remain stoic upon hearing his provocative words, unfazed by his risqué nature, but he just knew you were affected by it all—be it a small shift in your stance, the way you’d swallow as if something particularly hard was going down your throat, or when he inched closer to observe your pupils dilate—the movements were subtle, but the signs were telltale.

This time, it’s when he’s stroked a particularly sensitive spot, that your mouth slightly gaped open, and you elicited a sharp inhale. Your grip on his shoulders tightened. Your eyelids fluttered, heavy under his touch, and his grin grew wider when he felt you slowly beginning to rock yourself against his fingers.

“Look at that,” Negan cooed with a triumphant smile, knowing you were begrudgingly trying to hold back a moan. He glanced down to watch the up-and-down motion of your hips, while his fingers relentlessly stimulated the wet heat between your legs. “Don’t mean anythin’, huh? You’re fucking yourself on my—”

In a sudden, unanticipated movement, your hands flew to his cheeks, pulling his gaze forward as you slammed his lips back against yours. His eyes widened, stunned that for once, you initiated the kiss, and in a heartbeat, his lips started moving in sync with yours.

But no sooner had his mouth caught up to speed than you whispered harshly against his quickening breath, and Negan then recognised it had been nothing more than an effort to silence him. “You never shut up, do you?” you panted, beads of sweat trickling down your furrowed eyebrows.

So often had he allowed himself to believe you saw him as something past an enemy, that this clandestine arrangement was not just purely transactional. It may have started as just that, but as the nights carried on, there was an undeniable, gradual shift in the atmosphere—something weighty and unspoken, maybe even akin to love-making. He found himself wondering lately if you felt this way too, that the act itself was no longer just senseless self-gratification—if feelings were becoming involved. Surely, you must’ve.

But for now, he chose to put those spiraling thoughts to rest. He’s been waiting the whole week to have you beneath him again, and he could definitely puzzle over your feelings later. Plus, with the growing friction between your communities, tensions rising to an all-time high on both sides of the war, who knows? This may very well be the last time he’ll get to have you in his arms.

Your snide remark long-forgotten, Negan dived back into your lips, devouring you once more. Too caught up in the kiss, he doesn’t realise that his movements in your clit had stopped, and his hands had moved to cradle your face, absent-mindedly stroking your jaw with his thumbs.

You must’ve expected him to move past the foreplay by now, because when he suddenly felt you buck against his bulge, a deep groan clawed from the back of his throat, and he knew it was your body’s silent, frustrated plea to speed up the tempo. You parted from his lips, and your hands hastily shifted down to palm the tent in his boxers, earning another throaty groan from Negan.

“Patience, baby,” he exhaled shakily, moving to enrapture your neck with open-mouthed kisses, then feeling you shudder when he nipped at your collarbone. Tonight just felt different—he deliberately wanted to savour your taste, sweetly caress your skin like real lovers would.

You, on the other hand, grew annoyed. “You’re taking your damn sweet time,” you chastised, eliciting a sharp breath. Too impatient and unbothered, you merely slipped your underwear halfway across your thighs, before you reached into his boxers to free his length.

Negan hissed against your skin, just as you guided the tip of his cock to your soaked entrance. Then, in one slick motion, he pushed past your folds, and hearing the soft moan you let out was always like a hard-earned reward.

“Fuck—” he cursed with a shaky breath, feeling your walls taut around him, sending his mind pooling in ecstasy. “You’re so fucking tight.”

And when he began to roll his hips forward, another pleasant whimper escaped from your lips. It spurred him on all the more, wanting to keep extracting all of your sweet noises. Your bodies started to undulate with each thrust, as Negan buried his head in the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of wet kisses all over your skin. Meanwhile, your hands frantically raked through his dark curls, pulling your naked chests impossibly closer.

“Negan.”

A fiery ache swirled in his chest upon hearing the adoring slip of his name from your tongue.

All these nights, it felt as if your bodily reactions were his only form of reassurance—that underneath all the hatred and contempt you harboured towards him, there was still a carnal desire, however forbidden, that only he could satisfy.

He knew what you tasted like, knew all the right ways to get you aroused, all the sensitive spots to draw out a precious mewl. Yet, it wasn’t enough. He had all he could of you, physically, but it just wasn’t enough. This had undoubtedly grown beyond the simple release of pent-up stress, the stimulating sounds of skin slapping against skin, the feeling of a blissful undoing.

Negan came to a realisation. He wanted something visceral, something intangible—something he knew was utterly impossible.

Your affection.

His rhythmic pace stopped as he stilled inside you for a moment, shifting to rest his forehead against yours, noses nudging against each other. He fiercely met your gaze, but the words came out in a gentle, uncharacteristic plea.

“Tell me you don’t hate me.”

He saw the way your eyes slightly widened in surprise, the crease between your eyebrows softening. For a second, he thought he stood a chance of hearing the words he craved for. But when your lips parted, you only responded with confusion. “Wh—what?”

“Tell me,” he punctuated with a sudden, deep thrust, moving within you once more, making your breath hitch. He shut his eyes, a fire rekindling in his abdomen, as the words became contorted with an edge of despair. “Tell me you don’t hate me. Please.”

“I…” The relentless rocking of your bodies cut short your hesitant response, releasing a string of whimpers as your pleasure intensified, and your hands moved to cling onto his shoulders.

Negan felt your walls convulsing madly around him, and in turn a fervent heat building in his pelvis. “Please,” he croaked, hearing his own voice turn hoarse. “Just say it, please.” He plunged his length in and out of you, and as if in a final, desperate act of tenderness, he showered feverish kisses all over your features—your nose, your cheeks, your jaw.

“Negan, I…” you feebly murmured, your breathing turned erratic. He knew you were on the precipice of your climax, and in tandem, he began to chase his own orgasm. But just as he gave one last thrust—his hips jerking to a halt, and a white, hot release pooled between your thighs—he heard you whisper out, “I can’t.”

Somewhere along the night, you had knocked out from all the action, but Negan had chosen to remain awake for the past few hours. He had reached for a blanket to cover the both of you while you slept, but other than that, he made minimal to no movements, even as the early traces of daylight began crawling through the window blinds.

He wasn’t a man who knew peace ever since the apocalypse, but as he gazed into the sunrise, with the feeling of you snug against his chest, maybe it had found him for once. If only this was what he woke up to every day—you cuddled in his arms, your face nuzzled into his neck as he heard the soft rise and fall of every breath. What wouldn’t he give, just to stay in this moment forever? You were sleeping so soundly beside him, as if you didn’t resent every fibre of his being, as if all the words you spoke to him weren’t intended to wound.

Hesitantly, he reached out a hand, brushing his knuckles past your cheek in a feather-light caress. When you stirred, he stiffened immediately, wincing at the thought of you waking up with a start, scrambling to put your clothes on and dashing out of the RV. But when you only nestled further into his embrace, blissfully unaware, a soft smile tugged at his features. With more courage this time, Negan planted a tender kiss on your temple, his lips lingering there for just a moment longer.

Maybe once all the fighting was over, he’d claim you for real.

notes. so.. it’s been a hot minute, but i’ve still been lurking on tumblr! if anyone’s wondering, i have been trying to write a few fics these past few months, but sadly they’ve all accumulated to incomplete drafts, and somewhere along the line i lost the motivation to finish them :’( my perfectionism and imposter syndrome hasn’t been helping either, but hey, maybe it’s all in the process of writing, which is something that’s still relatively new to me so we’re not giving up just yet!

speaking of which, this was intended to be a drabble and is actually my first attempt to write smut after a few years of avid reading. i’m happy i saw this through, and i hope this was okay! if you made it this far, thank you for reading 🫶🏻

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

Hat in hand, thank you for your time, sex ed question: do orgasms from masturbation and orgasms from partnered sex actually feel different? Is it just the intimacy that makes people like it more?

hi anon,

great question, and I'm about to make a real meal of it.

so, first off, let's make one thing clear: the mechanisms that create an orgasm are the same regardless of the cause. no matter what's getting you off, regardless of what part of your body is being stimulated, it's the same nerves and muscles responding.

that may sound obvious, but it hasn't always. Freud, for instance, advanced the idea that vaginal and clitoral orgasms were fundamentally different, and that women who preferred to orgasm by touching their clitoris were less psychologically mature than women who preferred vaginal orgasms. fast forward to now, and we know the only difference between a clitoral and vaginal orgasm is that clitoral orgasms are generally easier, thanks to the incredible amount of nerve endings - and that many orgasms that result from vaginal penetration result at least in part from the large internal portion of the clitoris being stimulated through the vaginal wall. huge W for the clit!

now, having said that: just because the mechanics are the same doesn't mean that every orgasm is going to fee identical, or that every single thing that could produce an orgasm is going to actually work for everyone. sex with a partner can feel very different from sex with a vibrator which can feel very different from sex with just your hand, and even those individual methods aren't going to result in the exact same experience every time. there are a tremendous number of factors that influence arousal and sexual response, including many that have nothing to do with sex directly but nonetheless impact your body and mind and the way stimuli is received.

think of it as being similar to a meal - you could eat the exact same food, prepared the same way, two times and still feel very differently about depending on other factors in your day. when you're in a good mood, enjoying a day off, and able to sit with your food for as long as you like with no rush, you might savor the meal much more, take the time to appreciate the individual flavors and ingredients, and eat more in a single sitting. you might spend the rest of the day thinking about how good the food was, and look forward eagerly to the leftovers. whereas if you come to lunch on a short break from work, unable to devote much time to eating and already stressed out from an unpleasant day, you may be more likely to eat quickly to sate your hunger and zip back to work without taking much time to think about the food at all, because the meal is just fuel to keep going.

neither of these ways of eating are wrong; they both serve different needs and have a time and place. while I'd love to be able to cherish each meal, I'm certainly not going to pretend that I never eat just to have enough fuel to keep chugging until the next meal.

and, to extend this metaphor: we were imagining that was the exact same food, eaten under two very different circumstances. now factor in the infinite different kinds of food a person could eat in infinite different situations. now imagine that it's things that make you cum instead of food (which are still the same thing, for somebody out there, and to them I say congrats for speedrunning this one), and you've got a pretty good grasp on how infinitely variable the experience of orgasm is.

so: do orgasms with partners actually feel different? sure, but only in the sense that all orgasms can feel different from each other.

partnered orgasms can come with a lot of extra bells and whistles thanks to involving a whole other person (or multiple people), which opens the door to many more forms of stimulation than most people can manage on their own, as well as some inherent unpredictability - while you can, obviously, know exactly how you plan to touch yourself and receive pretty immediate feedback to how it makes you feel, but with other people you gain both the ability to be surprised and the necessity of much more communication than solo sex. all of that means that partnered sex can be a pretty substantially different experience than getting off alone - not necessarily worse or better, but definitely different, and definitely not just because of how the orgasm feels.

so why do people like it more? well, not all people do. for some people, it's vastly easier and more comfortable to just get off alone. some people like partnered sex but don't orgasm easily in the process; I'm one of those! I think I've had a grand total of one (1) sexual partner who could reliably get me off, but that didn't mean I wasn't having fun with the others - orgasm just wasn't a priority, because I went in knowing I'd probably need to finish myself off if I wanted to cum and didn't sweat it.

of course, the opposite also exists - for some people, masturbation doesn't do jack shit, and partnered sex is the way to go. some people only get off, or vastly prefer to get off, to scenarios that necessitate the presence of other people. some people aren't that interested in sex for the sake of sex, but like having a sense of connection with their partner(s).

and for many, there's no need to have a preference between getting off alone or with a partner in the first place - they're filling two different needs, without needing to be compared. why pit two bad bitches against each other? for me, getting myself off is easy and convenient, and having sex with someone else is a great way to play. both good, both serving totally different niches in my life.

tl;dr: variety in all things, babes.

[gothwineaunts]

Wow, hello!

So, I was actually feeling pretty motivated to write this post yesterday. But things have gotten exponentially worse, and I admit the pressure is getting to me. There seem to be a ton of expectations surrounding what I should be saying here, in order to… I guess, absolve myself? As if there’s a checklist people want me to go through to perform the “perfect” creator apology. But, I don’t see the point. I care a lot about this community and I think you deserve something a lot more sincere than some hollow chat-gpt apology. I understand that that’s foolish, on my part. Things are done that way so often because they work. But what you’ll find throughout this post, is that I’m kind of an idiot about some things. I’m stubborn and hard-headed and a little bit pretentious. And so, what I’m planning to do here is to simply tell you the truth about what happened. No cherry picking. All my mistakes, but also the context that goes with them. And at the end, my formal apology. This is a long and winding tale with a lot of characters. I’m going to be sharing some usernames as we go, in the interest of clarity and transparency. You’ll understand why with the context. But please do not seek these people out. Don’t pick fights with them. It will only make everything worse, for all involved.

Cool? Cool. But first I need to address the elephant in the room. This will probably seem like irrelevant drama at first, but this is the nuance and background that I wasn’t adequately able to articulate the night before last. In more ways than one, this is a story told in twos. The first set of twos is you, the readers. Who you are, and what you’re hoping to find out in this post.

1.      The overwhelming majority of you, are earnestly wanting to understand what has happened in the Nevermore Discord. You are concerned that I am not who you hoped I was. You are disappointed, and I understand why. To you, I am so sorry. I want to say that things are not as bad as they seem, but that is not for me to decide. You will need to draw your own conclusions from the words I write. And I understand, whatever you choose to do next.

2.      And there is a small, but incredibly vocal minority of people who are absolutely living for this. They are spreading complete fabrications with no screenshots to speak of. Horrible, horrible accusations. People who are more excited about watching a dumpsterfire than they are about the series that brought them here in the first place. I’m not going to attempt to cater to those people in this post. Because nothing will ever be good enough. Everything that can be taken in bad faith will be taken in bad faith. It would be pointless. But you’ll see them in the comments and reblogs. This is a known group to not only myself, but many others. I will share some of their names in a later section so you know who to watch for. They will make a lot of noise around this post because they’ve been trying to make something like this happen for actual years. And now that I had a genuinely concerning response that good people reasonably want me to explain, they’re lunging at the chance to throw absolutely anything at the wall. It’s parasocial levels of hatred. This is some deep and horrible lore.

The next set of twos is how two things can be true at the same time. And that is exactly what is going on here, in this situation. Let me be really clear, because I don’t want either truth to be lost in my explanation as they are intrinsically linked to one another.

1.      I did a downright terrible job explaining myself in the Discord when people started asking about crimson. I can give you all kinds of contributing factors for this, and I might later. But none of them really matter. It was incredibly careless of me to use “egging them on” and “cried wolf”  to describe what I understood. At the time I was really laser-focused on expressing what happened as simply and quickly as possible because the channel replies were paused and I felt like everyone was just waiting for me to be finished with my message. But after stepping back, I immediately understood how badly I messed up, because of course these idioms are routinely weaponized against survivors of SA and CSA. That is not how I intended to use them. It was an unfortunate case of one thing looking and sounding like another thing. Incredibly ham-fisted and irresponsible on my part. To the survivors who read my words and felt that it echoed their past experiences, I’m heartbroken that I did that to you. That lapse of judgement was a betrayal to both you and me. I don’t know where my head went, and I’m just blown away by my own lack of awareness in that message. So for that I am and will continue to be sorry.

2.      The second thing that can be true is that, while you are all absolutely owed an explanation and an apology, there are also some people amongst you who are using this fuck-up on my part as a springboard to take me down.  These people have been trying to get a call out post to pop off about me for at least a year, and they have been very quick to jump into the reblogs and comments about this very serious topic with complete lies and slander. Just, anything that might stick to the wall. We’ll address this later on as well. But please understand that me discussing the harassment I’ve faced from these groups is not at the expense of me also owning up to my faults and taking the proper accountability.

And the last set of twos is one I’ve alluded to in the first sets, concerning a pair of toxic side-servers that ran adjacent to the main Nevermore Discord. Completely unofficial cliques. And invisible to myself and Flynn and our mod team. We were eventually made aware that both of them were breaking laws and Discord ToS in ways that leaked into our server and affected our members negatively. As such, both groups were mass-banned. And the cliques are the ones running a majority of the discourse you’ve been seeing here, because while they are formally banned from the discord, we have absolutely no say in their participation on Tumblr. Now, keep in mind. Both of these groups were uncovered after crimson was banned the first time. That’s important later.

Clique #1

My understanding of the first group is that it started as a gaming server for people who met one another through the Nevermore Discord. I don’t know when or why it started being used to talk shit about other readers, but I do know that it got really vicious. And it was sort of an open secret for long before I knew anything about it. I found out after that there were a lot of people passively in this server, just observing. It was that much of a spectacle.

Now, this clique had been pretty rude. Like they’d try to start fights with me in the discord fairly often, both in the Patreon and free spaces. But it wasn’t grounds for dismissal until we found out about the baiting and the alts.  These people had a lot of grievances, but one really united them: they were extremely upset about anyone who would ship Prospero.

Many of you know, that Prospero is an aromantic character, canonically. And you may notice that canonically, he has no apparent love interest. But this group wanted to make sure other readers were not thinking about Prospero in relationships, or creating ship content of him for any reason on the grounds that it would be considered a “proship.” I told them (and I stand on this) that it’s not up to them to police the thoughts of other readers, and that aromantic people have widely varying lifestyles and experiences and do not need to be infantilized that way.

This turned out to be a bad move on my part, because it brought with it an onslaught of alt accounts coming in and "innocently" kicking up what I now refer to as the “prosp-aro” debate every time they had the chance. But because of this and what a common occurrence it was, we started being able to pick out the alts. And we realized that this group of people had been using the same alt accounts with different names to antagonize certain readers they’d decided they hated, and it had gone on for a long time.

I did a lot of investigative work in dms trying to figure out who all was responsible for the harassment, and settled on a list that was vetted by three different people who knew about the clique. And all three of these people insisted that, while Laci was in the group and in a lot of the screencaps saying pretty dubious things, that she was good people. So I believe them, and let Laci stay. This group was banned on April 3, 2024, and contained the following users:

-          lilnatx (nat)

-          suitino (sushi)

-          jj_the_jet_plane (layden)

-          rivsticks (jasper)

-          atheimee (athena)

-          jinxs.com (lanx/jinx)

-          smartestginger (nico)

-          thereallandofbugs (bugs)

-          rosienemui (rosie)

These were the names they were known by on the Discord. I don’t have the Tumblr accounts tied to these identities. But some might be the same. I know a lot of them are here.  It should be noted that jinx was later unbanned due to pressure from Laci that they had been banned in error, after the fact. We allowed them back in after a few days as a favor to Laci since the situation seemed like it was very stressful for her. This would prove to be yet another a mistake since, as you have probably seen in the screenshots from the night before last, jinx rapidly escalated things to another level while I was trying to figure out how to handle crimson’s unbanning and subsequent rebanning an hour later.

Clique #2

Phew. Still with me? Great. The second group we needed to ban was one that actually started long before the first one, but was a lot smaller and comparatively more subtle. This group, to my knowledge, cropped up around the time that ep. 39 of Nevermore was released. (11/10/22) We knew about this group but not who all was involved in it or in what capacity for a very long time. They would consistently post things on Tumblr trying to start a scandal. I recall posts alleging that we were racists, or SA apologists, or that we were sending death threats to a random confessions account.

To be clear, these allegations are completely false. This clique will say anything. Like a recent post one of them put up during this discourse said that hiwi (our mod) is both a r*pe apologist and a childhood friend of mine and that’s the only reason she hasn’t been banned. Hiwi is absolutely nothing of the sort, and I have never met her in person. In fact, she lives on the other side of the continent.

Now, this clique is a little different than the first. The first, to my knowledge, was a group of friends that got toxic and felt morally superior about their opinions and it all kind of got away from them. The vibe was a little catty, I guess. Gossipy. But this clique has more of a stalker vibe. It’s dark.

They’ve had it out specifically for me for as long as I can remember. And some of them (at least one, at all times) would subscribe to our patreon, both to sow dissent in our stream chats and also to leak literally all the content back to the others, including me talking about random shit like what I ate for lunch. Just so they could like. Laugh about it, I guess. I’ll never understand why. [Editing note: because in the final moments of proofreading this post I see one of these people has made some master post about what a terrible person I am? A lot of those screenshots are from Patreon channels and the guy STILL has them laying around. I’m telling you, they stole everything that wasn’t nailed down.] 

The biggest grievance this clique had is that any ship with Montresor is an “SA fetish ship” because to them he is a r*pist because of how he made Ada bark (?) and since Montrada is canon, that means we are supporters of SA, and that Morella and Ada should be together instead. Listen, I’ll level with you, this one baffles me. I don’t even know how to begin to untangle it. But if you see a lot of vitriol about us being SA apologists from these users, it’s because Montresor exists. That’s pretty much it.

You can ask them for screencaps ‘til you’re blue in the face, but unless they build fake ones from the ground up, they’re never going to be able to back up their wild claims. Simply put, they’re provocateurs, and they use the scariest words they can to whip people up into a panic.

We became aware that they were leaking patreon content when one of them was caught publicly referring to things that were being said behind a paywall when we knew they weren’t a patron. It unraveled from there.  People who knew about their antics shared screenshots and information with us, and we finally realized the scope of the clique’s hatred and banned whoever was even left in the Nevermore Discord. But they continue to be active in the community on tumblr. You’ll have seen them around. They were banned on 5/11/2024 and the names involved are as follows (again, a mishmash of discord names, nicknames, and tumblr accounts):

- percy (gremlinguy145 on tumblr)

- queenmorningrose (annabel-lee-nevermore on tumblr)

- spoopycactus630 (spoopy-nevermore-dump on tumblr)

- grif/horrorshow (conscience-grim on tumblr)

- unreqiknizd

- duke aralt (westofthestyx)

- eden (sapphic-mad-scientist on tumblr)

- priemium

Again I’d like to reiterate. The point in sharing these names is not to incite any sort of response against these people. But they are folding themselves into the fray and doing what they can to whip everyone else up into a mob, and all as we’re talking about a discord server that they have been banned from for months now. The above context is also relevant for the next section, which is why you’re all here in the first place.

What the hell happened with Crimson?

I hope it’s not confusing, but now we’re going back to 3/14/2024, before anything I just outlined above had come to light. The cliques were quietly doing their harassment and baiting and raiding and whatever-the-hell behind the scenes, but Flynn and I and the mods were blissfully unaware of how bad it was getting. We get a dm from Laci. The same Laci who was part of Clique #1 and was rescued from being banned with the others by her friends outside the group. Jinx’s friend, who managed to get them unbanned as well. You have probably seen these screencaps already, but I will show them to you again, just in case.

Sufficed to say, we were immediately alarmed by the information Laci shared in her DM with us. Now, I want to be very clear about this because it’s been lost in the game of telephone. What Laci outlines in her dm to me, were the events that occurred between six users (including crimson) in a group chat with minors. Everyone in the evidence was censored (pfp and username), as was the image that crimson showed them. When I asked, Laci agreed to give me one name of one of the minors in the dm. I’ll call them Alice, but that is not their real name. I asked if I could talk to Alice about this, I was told by Laci, no. Alice doesn’t want to talk. I was like, ok I understand, that’s fine. 

I hope it makes sense when I say that it is not feasible for us to moderate the things that happen in peoples’ dms. As you’ve seen above, the mod team doesn’t usually get involved with drama unless whatever is happening is directly affecting the experience people are having in the Nevermore Discord because that is all we can see and the only place we have any real authority.  But this was obviously a special case. We banned crimson very quickly without asking any follow-up questions, because of course we did!? I’ve seen people say I’m harboring or defending crimson or that we’re buddies but we barely spoke, ever. They were a stranger to me then, and they still are now.

But something about the entire situation wasn’t adding up to me. And I want to be clear that none of this is in any way meant to discredit csa survivors, I’m really just trying to put you in my headspace and walk you through my thought process. But I found that the evidence was just, sort of strange. Laci started her dm explaining that she found this information out because she and a group of people were investigating crimson for ‘art tracing’ which felt, to me, like a bizarre non-sequitur and totally irrelevant next to the evidence of them showing nsfw content to minors. Petty, kind of. Like I wanted to ask – why were you doing that in the first place? People trace Flynn’s art all the time. As long as they’re not selling it, it’s not a big deal.

Most of the crops are from a PC but the windows are oddly small, and only contain a couple messages at a time. Some have American formatted time and some have European formatted time. So different users, I assume? The names were blotted out, which I would understand for a public call-out but not for a private report to the mod team. Laci was not in this gc at any point in time, despite being the one to report. 

One of the users was apparently 12, to which I ask – what is a 12-year-old doing on discord at all? If we knew who they were, we would have reported the account. Discord is not a safe place for a child that age, let alone a small group chat. Along with 18-year-old Crimson, there was also a 22- and 17-year-old in the chat, which left us wondering – why hadn’t anything been done?

I had no evidence that anyone ever told crimson they were minors, and I feel if it existed, it would have been in the screencap dump (I find that sometimes a noticeable lack of key evidence is evidence in itself). No one seems to have tried to kick crimson from the group chat or report their account for inappropriate behavior. Then there’s the fact that this is a group chat. Anyone in it can leave at any time. 

Then I came across the messages that started this whole gc, and it only got stranger when I realized Alice started it, called it “Women Lovers” and created it “so we can talk about Nevermore women without having to filter ourselves” after they all reacted to a sultry but sfw drawing of Lenore that crimson had made and posted in our hideout channel. And all that made me wonder why Alice didn’t just kick crimson, if she had admin power?  Do you see what I mean? It’s just all a bit head tilty. I noticed it at the time. But I said nothing. Because it didn’t matter. Crimson, no matter what happened, exposed minors to nsfw content. And that’s on them. And I’ve never in my life defended it. We banned them.

Crimson was beside herself. She came off humiliated and apologetic, and insisted she had no idea and begged to come back to a community she said she loved. But we told her no, there’s no coming back from doing what she did.

Time passes and we uncover Clique #1. And while we figured out who the main players were, I dmed with Laci. And it was Laci herself, who tells me that it was Alice who made most of Clique #1’s alt accounts, and that it was Alice who used those alt accounts to harass people and try to get them to start fights or say something that might get them in trouble. 

And I’ll be honest with you, the mod team still didn’t think much of it, outside of – we need to figure out which accounts were the alts. So we did. We had several confirmed to us.  And those accounts were zeroing in on certain users that the clique didn’t like. At the time we noticed two notable targets in addition to the mod team. I won’t name them, it’s their business if they want to weigh in about all that. But in screencaps, they’ll be labeled Target #1 and Target #2.

More time passes and Clique #2 comes to light. As you can imagine, by now we’re feeling disillusioned, and very tired of trying to moderate shit we cannot see for ourselves. And that’s when crimson comes back to very hesitantly ask if they might be able to appeal their ban. It wasn’t until then that it occurred to us that Laci (on behalf of Alice) was the only one who ever reported anything to us about Crimson. 

And I want to just say that again. Because it’s gotten lost too. Laci was the only person who ever reported Crimson. There was not one single other person who ever sent a modmail or a dm or even a ping to anybody on the mod team. I have since (only yesterday) seen some screencaps that are rather skin crawly, but even those happened in yet another side server. Thinking on this, the mods went back through the known alt accounts Alice had used. And they found that Alice harassed crimson both on her main account and on the same alt accounts that she used to harass the other targets.

By now, Alice is banned for completely unrelated reasons. Not because of what happened with Crimson. I’ve seen that one flying around and I’m sorry it’s just not true. It’s because she was relentlessly harassing and cyberbullying people in the discord we moderate. Laci is still there, but had lost my trust, for being involved with both the drama I’ve mentioned here and more that I don’t care to dip into. It’s ultimately irrelevant. But what am I going to say to Laci? “Hey, did you and Alice, by any chance, coordinate some kind of bizarre trap together to get crimson banned from the discord because you suspected them of tracing their art?” And once again. Because I want to keep this top of mind. Even if that were the case, it doesn’t make what Crimson did alright, and it never will. Sharing nsfw content in front of minors is a disgusting thing to do. And one that we frankly are really irritating about in the moderation of the discord. I’ve heard people say that we over-moderate when it comes to art. 

But all this stuff about a “known pedophile?” If it was known, then we were on the outs. And to even this minute right now, I don’t have any conclusive evidence that Crimson is a pedophile. The evidence I have is that Crimson shared nsfw with a group of people whose ages they did not know. Which is fucking gross. It’s an adult’s responsibility to make sure they’re speaking with other adults before posting things of that nature. 

But at the time, the way I read the situation is that Crimson had only just stopped being a minor and was egregiously negligent in how they were speaking and what they were posting, likely in part due to them not being aware enough of their adult responsibilities.  And hey. I know some of you are chomping at the bit. You can call me naïve for this! This is what I’m referring to when I say that I can be a real idiot. But I feel everyone has been very quick to call Crimson a pedophile. I know this is pedantic to say, but the prerequisite for being a pedophile is “being attracted to minors.” Based on the information I had at my fingertips, I did not think Crimson sought out these minors. Crimson was invited to the gc, they did not ask to join. 

I have seen discussions about all the things crimson did to their victims since we unbanned them but I have not seen screencaps to support that whole ‘marriage proposal’ thing, and again I think it sounds a bit odd coming as a pedophilia accusation from someone only one year younger than crimson.  

But you know what? I don’t know crimson. Maybe we were wrong. But even if we weren’t, I realize in hindsight that it was a stupid decision for the mod team to give them a second chance. We didn’t have anyone to consult about what happened because all the other people in the chat had been obscured from me and I didn’t feel like Laci would give me a straight answer. 

The mods and I felt at the time that crimson, like the other targets of Clique #1, had been singled out and that they deserved another very closely monitored chance in the discord, which they said they still missed dearly. I’m a bleeding heart, alright? A total sap. I know that. But being honest with you, I felt bad. It feels horrible to be singled out and targeted. And I was probably too close to that feeling at the time, seeing as we were on the tail end of finding out the Clique #2 had pursued me so relentlessly for so long. 

So for my part, I’m sorry. I made a rash decision that was influenced by some very personal circumstances. And we should have left it alone. Based on the evidence I've seen, I don’t know if I personally would call crimson a pedophile and certainly I wouldn't call them a known pedophile, but I am regretful that we risked it either way.

When I was trying to explain all of this in the west common room channel two nights back, things had boiled over and were already getting out of hand very quickly. A lot of brand new accounts were joining the discord with one word intros just to start conflicts in the public server with crimson. Alts. Either from banned users or burner accounts. And I got panicky. One of the mods paused the messages in west common room but no one besides me was available to handle the situation at that moment. Reacts about being silenced were pouring in and I felt pressured to quickly take over and try to explain. 

In my rush, I stupidly didn’t backread more than a quick skim. And I ate shit, y’all. You saw. One thing I want to state outright. I’m talking a lot about my thoughts and my feelings and it’s because I don’t wanna speak for Flynn or for the mods. But I didn’t make this decision alone. In fact, I was dragging my feet and being really lazy about okaying the whole thing. Just because I was busy, not because I was fretting over it or anything. But I had to be pinged and then literally tapped on the shoulder by Flynn, asking me to respond to mod chat when this was being discussed earlier that day. That doesn’t change the fact that I was part of the decision. I agreed to unban crimson. Foolishly. I understand that, now. 

I hope that now it makes some more sense though, how it came to happen. I never meant to hurt anyone. My own past and present feelings got in the way, and I own that. But in the moment, my personal intention was to give crimson a second chance because I felt that they’d been targeted by Clique #1. Not to ignore anyone’s concerns or make them feel unsafe, even if those were the ultimate outcome.  

So, completely underprepared and defensive, I jumped into west common room and I just. Blew it. Totally fucking blew it. I knew it instantly but it’s hard to stay logical when people are telling you you’re vile and evil and they’re sick that they ever thought you were a good person and that they’ll never see you the same way again. My mind went blank and I don’t really remember much of what happened next. But I said what I said, and I should have done better. 

I wish there was a word bigger than sorry. I’m beside myself. I know there was probably a way to make everyone happy. To make everything okay. But I wasn't clever enough to figure it out in the moment, and it eats at me. So it’s like I’m sorry for my poor judgment and my terrible choice of words, but there’s another layer where I’m also sorry for not matching how wonderful this community is with how wonderful (or well, unwonderful) I was two nights ago. I promise I am going to work harder to be better for you all.

Again, to every victim of SA and CSA, my heart is with you, more personally than you might realize. I don’t think I could have handled my explanation in a worse way. And I’m so so sorry.

Moving forward, I am also going to take an enormous step back from moderating and participating in the discord in general. I feel like a lot of this happened because I was still treating it like it belonged to a smaller fandom, like Shiloh’s. But realistically, I don’t have time to both moderate and make the series itself, and I really dragged my feet on being honest with myself about that. And for that too, I apologize. We’re going to get more mods, they’re going to have full control of the moderation, and Flynn and I are going to do what we love more than anything in the world and just make Nevermore.

I understand if you won’t be there for it. This is not a flattering picture I’ve painted for you. And you’d be well within your rights, to decide not to give us another chance. But it's been a pleasure to lurk here in this wildly talented corner of tumblr. And I’ll never forget it. <3 Yours truly, -Kit Trace

[calder]

In every mainline Fallout game except for New Vegas, players can earn the loyalty of a dog known as “Dogmeat.” As part of the main quest of Fallout 4, Dogmeat assists in tracking down the antagonist, even if the player has never encountered him before. When you leave Kellogg’s home, Nick simply starts talking about Dogmeat as if he’s a known quantity.

Perhaps related to this quirk of the world, Dogmeat is first named in this game when the clairvoyant Mama Murphy recognizes him and addresses him by name. The game’s UI calls him “DOG” until he is recognized by Valentine or Murphy. It seems clear that this german shepherd is somehow an independent agent with a good reputation, or something.

Dogmeat does not have a loyalty quest associated with him, which is how the player would earn the other companions’ perks. However, upon finding Astoundingly Awesome Tales #9 within the Institute, Dogmeat becomes more resistant to damage. While this isn’t coherent or conclusive evidence of Dogmeat being a synth, it’s plainly prompting the audience to consider that idea. In light of these factors, his origins have been fiercely debated among the community.

The skeptics and “hard sci-fi” fans out there would have you believe that he’s merely a famous stray dog who solves crimes. But I believe there's something more remarkable at work.

There's a section in the Fallout 2 instruction book called the Vault Dweller's Memoirs, where the player character of the first game recounts what canonically happened. Due to Fallout’s famously terrible companion AI, if you travelled to Mariposa with Dogmeat, he would consistently run into the force fields and get vaporized. So, in the Memoirs, we learn that this is exactly what became of Dogmeat Prime, in canon. He loyally sprinted into a wall of solid light, and disappeared. What if our buddy simply awoke in a new, confusing place?

In Fallout 2, Dogmeat must be found at the Cafe of Broken Dreams, which is explicitly a liminal space. It appears randomly to travellers in the desert. The NPCs within are frozen in time, such as a young version of President Tandi, who mentions that Ian went to “the Abbey,” an area cut from the game. To gain Dogmeat’s trust, the Chosen One must equip the Vault Dweller’s V-13 jumpsuit, which Dogmeat recognizes as belonging to his dead master. You can also attack him to spawn Mad Max, who claims ownership of the dog. Max fits the description of Dogmeat's original owner given in Fallout.

There’s also the “puppies” perk in Fallout 3, which enables you to restore Dogmeat, in the event of his death. “Dogmeat’s puppy” inherits his base and ref ids. In other words, they ARE the same NPC, just renamed. So, the way this actually articulates is that whenever Dogmeat dies in combat, you can find him waiting for you back at Vault 101. In practice, it’s almost Bombadilian.

Lastly, please consider the following developer context.

In June of 2021, the dog who performed Dogmeat’s motion capture and voice for Fallout 4 passed away. A statue of her was placed outside of every Vault in the China-exclusive sequel to Fallout Shelter. She still watches over each player.

River's owner, developer Joel Burgess, honored her in a brief thread about her involvement in the game, and shared much about his thought process and design goals while leading the character’s development. The Dogmeat project changed course early on, after Mr. Joel saw a new member of the art team gathering references of snarling German Shepherds. This motivated him to bring River into the studio, so the artists and developers could spend time with her.

He wanted to steer the team away from viewing Dogmeat as a weapon, and towards viewing him as a friend. Everything special about Dogmeat was inspired by River. For example, whenever you travel with Dogmeat, he’s constantly running ahead of you to scout for danger, then turning to wait for you. This was inspired by River’s consistent behavior on long walks. The only way they were able to motivate River to bark for recordings was by separating her from Joel while he waited in the next room. Reading the thread, it’s very clear that he hoped Dogmeat would make players feel safe, encouraging them to explore, and to wonder. In his closing thoughts, he said the following:

-Joel Burgess

Mr. Joel felt it was important to express that the ambiguity of Dogmeat’s origin in Fallout 4 was deliberately built into his presentation. He also felt it was important that you know Dogmeat loves you. Dogmeat was designed, on every level, to reflect the audience’s inspirations, and to empower their curiosity.

The true lore of Dogmeat is a rorschach test. The only “right” answer is to pursue whatever captures your imagination.

[heartlogan]

living to learn

✮— logan x f!mutant!reader (set in deadpool & wolverine)

✮— summary: logan mulls over all that he has lost, and all that he has found, in the void

✮— a/n: i was enabled by yall - please heed the warnings! you dont need to read pt 1 to read this!

✮— warnings: MAJOR DEADPOOL & WOLVERINE SPOILERS, major character deaths, angst, incredibly sad backstory, dead kids / teenagers, practically a genocide of mutants, suicidal ideation (from logan, kind of), reader acts as a mother figure for someone, incorrect dialogue from dp&w, a smidge of comfort, again ANGST, lmk if there’s more!

part one | masterlist

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

It’s almost impossible not to linger on the things that you have lost.

And for Logan, it is impossible.

He spends every waking moment craving for the touch of somebody he lost, and he’s painfully aware that it’s all his fault. He caused the loss. And he’s the only one left to mourn you, because god knows the humans won’t.

Even for him, some two hundred years old, it’s all too painful. And he has experienced plenty of pain in his life. But this? Losing you? Losing everyone? It’s too much. So, he does what he can, he pours so much alcohol into his body that he can’t think, can’t imagine what your final moments must have been like.

But between bars, when his healing factor wears the alcohol down, it’s all he sees.

He imagines you there, surrounded by all of your loved ones except for him, unable to save them. And he can remember finding you so vividly, can remember the ashy tone your skin had taken on, all the life drained from you. He can remember exactly where he found you, in front of the doors, your dying action being to try and save the kids in the mansion. He prays to a god that he doesn’t believe in that you died before they did, because knowing that you hadn’t been able to save them would have killed you.

And the other X-Men, they died the same way. Trying to protect each other, trying to protect those kids. And perhaps the only one who knew that it was all in vain would’ve been Jean. Jean, who he found in front of the children.

Where was he?

At some bar, surrounded by humans he couldn’t care less about, all because he was selfish. All because he didn’t want anybody thinking he wanted to be part of the team. God forbid he actually care about something.

And because of his selfishness, his fear, he lost it all.

He lost you.

So when Wade said he could fix Logan’s universe, he would’ve done anything to make that happen. Anything that Wade asked for, he would’ve done. And as soon as his universe was fixed, Logan would go to you and get to his knees, he would beg for your forgiveness.

And all of that, that hope that had evaded him all those years, was for nothing. For an educated wish.

Logan couldn’t do anything but resort to his old habits, grabbing the first bottle of actual alcohol he saw, and finally numbing the image of you dead in his arms.

“There’s five of us.” Elektra told Wade, and Logan paid her no mind. Everything was futile now, pointless. He was only helping Wade to help the team, to help you, and that was likely impossible. So whatever these so-called heroes were planning, he wanted no part in it.

Logan had already secured his legacy in his universe, and it wasn’t the one you had always imagined for him. He was the Wolverine, and he was every bit of violence that name suggested. Because even though he hadn’t been able to save the X-Men, he sure as hell got his vengeance. He hadn’t slept, hadn’t eaten, until every single human who was remotely involved in the blood bath at X-Mansion was dead.

You wouldn’t have been proud of his actions, true, but you were dead.

Cassandra had mentioned something about temperance, earlier, and it hadn’t taken him long to recognise that you were the anchor of his. Without you, Logan hadn’t managed any sort of self-restraint. He had slaughtered people. And he could only bring himself to regret those that hadn’t quite deserved it.

By the time the red had faded from his vision, Logan realised he had gone too far. He hadn’t just killed the ones who had murdered his friends, but anyone in connection to them, and anyone who had gotten in his way. The only reason he wasn’t arrested was because they were too afraid of him, and the only reason he hadn’t been killed was because he couldn’t fucking die.

Even the fuckers that had slaughtered the X-Men couldn’t figure out how to kill him, and that was a sick kind of irony.

“Logan, that’s who I was telling you about! X-23!” Wade said excitedly, pointing across the room at a teenage girl, who stared at him like she was seeing a ghost. From the sound of what Wade had said earlier, she probably was.

And the sight of her, for some reason, tugged at his chest. He drowned the feeling with more whiskey.

✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶⊶⊷⊶⊷❍⊶⊷⊶⊷✶

“Hey.” Laura greeted you, fidgeting with the strap of her bag as she watched you enter the back of the base, carrying a bag full of food. She seemed nervous, and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Hey, Laura, everythin’ alright?” You asked fondly, glancing at her as you started unpacking the supplies that you’d found scattered across the void.

She hesitated, glancing back through the doorway she was stood in, before focusing on you. “Yeah. Uh, I need to talk to you.” She said, sounding incredibly serious, which wasn’t unusual for her. Laura had been through so much, including everything that she had told you about her life before the void. Being here hadn’t made her life any better.

You immediately paused your actions, and turned your full attention towards the teenager across from you. You nodded for her to start.

“I was out patrolling earlier, and I found some people.” Laura said slowly, thinking her words over thoroughly before she spoke them aloud. She didn’t want to make this any worse. “I drove them here, and we’ve made a plan to attack Cassandra’s first thing. Except for one of the two, who doesn’t want to help.”

“Okay…” You said cautiously, almost confused. “This all sounds good, doesn’t it? Whoever they are, they can stay here if they want. Fill me in on the plan, and we’ll handle it.”

“It’s… okay. It’s about who they are.” She clarified finally, giving up on trying to approach the situation cautiously. “It’s a variant of him. Of Logan.”

Your chest squeezed painfully immediately, and you hand to hold a hand to your sternum to try and ease it. If it were any other situation, Laura may have made a joke about you having a heart attack, but she knew better. She knew how she had felt when she first saw the man, so she could imagine how you were feeling.

Immediately, your heart was torn between rushing to see him, and refusing to lay your eyes on the man at all. You weren’t sure you could handle seeing him, or, well, a variant of him.

It hurt too much. Every day you were reminded of how you had failed to save him, but you had to keep going, for the others in the void. Because they needed you, just as much as you needed them. Laura needed you.

She knew your pain all too well, having lost her own Logan. So you knew what she was telling you was the truth. There was really, finally, a Wolverine variant in the void.

“You okay?” Laura asked, after you had been silent for more moments than she was comfortable with. She was looking at you with such concern, and you could tell that her own heart was practically bursting in her chest from the sight of him.

“Are you?” You asked in return, eyebrows raised as you finally started to get a grip on yourself, shaking yourself from the pit of loss you had begun to get stuck in. She nodded, and you nodded yourself before pausing to think. “And this… Logan, he doesn’t want to join to Cassandra’s?”

Laura shook her head, looking down momentarily. “No. He’s… he’s as messed up as my Logan was.”

You approached her, drawing her into a silent hug. She squeezed you tightly, and the strength her mutation — Logan’s mutation — had given her wasn’t lost on you.

“Do you want me to talk to him?” You asked her quietly, and felt her nod against your shoulder. “Alright. Where is he?” You questioned, silently steeling yourself to face a copy of the man you had lost. The man you had loved.

She pointed you in the right direction, letting you go with a simple, “Good luck.” The entire walk outside, you were holding your breath, trying to prepare yourself somehow. As if this was something you would ever be able to prepare for.

And the moment you saw him, you knew it was all in vain. Because nothing could’ve prepared you for seeing him again, after all this time.

For a moment, it felt as though time was stood still, suspended.

Until he opened his mouth. “‘M not lookin’ for company.”

It was him. His familiar voice. The voice that you would’ve recognised anywhere, even after so long not having heard it. He sounded just the same as your own Logan, the same gruff tone to his voice, all grumpy expressions and furrowed brows. You could imagine it all as though your Logan was still alive, as though he was actually here. It took more than a moment for you to recall that this wasn’t your Logan.

You shuffled over to the log he sat on, the sun setting over the trees surrounding the two of you. He lifted the bottle of whiskey to his lips, glancing at you as you sat. His entire body went shock still, and he turned to look at you fully.

You smiled, and prayed he said nothing about the way your eyes became watery. “Hi, Logan.”

He said your name, sounding as though he was a mere man sat before a god, reverent. The bottle slipped from his hand as he spoke it aloud, his eyes watering immediately, his lip trembling as he looked at you like he was seeing you for the very first time.

“Are you… her?” He asked hesitantly, hand hovering halfway towards you, and you hated to be the bearer of bad news. But if you had to be conscious that he wasn’t yours, it was only fair for him to know the truth.

Reluctantly, you shook your head. “I’m sorry. I’m not your version of me, and you’re not my version of you.”

His hand fell to his lap, but he didn’t take his eyes off of you for a moment. He seemed reluctant to believe you, and you couldn’t blame him. He looked just like your version of him, grey streaks and all. But it wasn’t him, you knew, because he wasn’t coughing up blood, wasn’t actively dying in your arms.

You cleared your throat, glancing to the fire before him, watching the way the smoke curled into the slowly darkening sky. “My Logan died. I—I couldn’t save you. I’ve been here, in the void, for a year, I think.” You elaborated slightly, not wanting to overwhelm him with information. “I’d like to go home. Mourn my losses.”

He stared at you, saying nothing, fingers still outstretched where his hand lay.

“Laura said you weren’t coming with in the morning. I was hoping you might change your mind. We need your help.” You continued, trying to remain convincing despite the shake in your voice.

But that seemed to do the opposite of what you wanted, and he blinked out of the trance he had been in. He started shaking his head immediately, fingers clenching into a fist. “You got the wrong guy. I’m not… I’m not who you think I am.”

“Maybe not, but, Laura told me you were always the wrong guy, up until you weren’t. And to her, that means something. To me, too.” You said, hoping he wouldn’t pull away further than he already had. As selfish as it was, you didn’t want to lose another Logan. You wanted to see him and his friend succeed, even if you didn’t. Maybe, this time, this Logan, you could save him.

“You don’t get it.” Logan refuted, shaking his head, glancing towards the fire as the sun finally finished descending the horizon. He seemed to get lost in the blaze, and you watched his eyes become unfocused, showing him images that weren’t really there. “I failed them. My team. You.”

You stayed quiet, wondering if he was going to elaborate, or if he was too caught up in his vision.

“D’you know something’?” He asked, blinking until the fire came back into focus. “You used to beg me to wear this suit. So did Storm, Scott, Beast. All of you. And I refused, because god forbid anybody believe I wanted to be there.”

“What happened?” You asked him, wanting to reach for his hand, but knowing it wouldn’t help him get through this.

“I went out. And the humans went mutant hunting. By the time I stumbled home shit-faced from the bar… you—you were all dead. Every single mutant in that house.” He explained, his voice shaking, his lower lip trembling once again. You were almost certain he was seeing those images again, because he squeezed his eyes shut, gritting his teeth.

A surge of sympathy shot through you. You wanted so badly to comfort him, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but you knew he wouldn’t believe it.

“So now I wear this goddamn suit as a reminder. To remember all of you. To make sure I never forget what I did.”

You released a deep sigh, the story sounding familiar to you, in some ways. He glanced over at you, seeing somebody else for a moment. After another few seconds, you reached into your shirt and pulled out the dog tags you had been carrying with you. You turned them over in your hand, running your thumb over the inscription.

He glanced wearily at them, and you reached out, grasping his fist in your own hand and pulling it loose until you could fit the dog tags in his hand, which you then squeezed shut. “I carry these with me, for the same reason. To remind myself that I failed you. That I can’t take that back. That I have to do better, even if all I want to do is give up. You aren’t the only one who did something wrong, here. If I could fix my mistakes, I would, but I can’t. So I carry on. For Laura. For anyone who needs it. And it seems like this… Wade needs it. From you.”

His hand was splayed open, turning over the dog tags in his palm as he listened intently to you.

“Be the hero you weren’t the first time around.” You told him finally, reaching out and placing your palm in his, squeezing around the dog tags, before letting go.

You went to stand, and he stood after you, reaching out.

“I—I know you aren’t her. I know that. But can I pretend, for a minute, that you are?” He asked you, and the vulnerability of the request wasn’t lost on you. Your Logan rarely ever asked for anything, even if he desperately needed it, so you could only imagine the courage that this Logan had mustered to ask you that.

You nodded, silent.

There was a pause, and he looked into your eyes, searching for something that you didn’t know you possessed. But he seemed to find it.

“‘M sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Logan told you at last, the apology seeming to burst from the depths of his chest. “I love you. I have loved you the whole time. I should have told you as soon as I felt it.” He confessed, and you saw the dog tags hanging from his fingers as he reached for you. And you couldn’t help yourself — you reached right back.

Your hands landed on either side of his face, so full of care, and you watched the tear run down his cheek. His own hands gripped you tightly, scared to let you go.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, voice broken.

“It wasn’t your fault.” You told him firmly, before rushing forward, pulling him into a hug so tight you could’ve heard his metal bones creak. He buried his face in your hair, breathing you in, and held you tight. “I don’t blame you. I love you.” You said, breathing the words into his ear as though that would make him believe it. He gripped you tighter, squeezing you against him. “I love you.”

You cradled the back of his head with one hand, pressing him close, because you were just as scared to let him go. Distantly, you heard Laura call your name.

After a moment, you pulled back slightly, only to press your forehead against his for a minute. You could pretend that he was your Logan, selfishly, just for a moment more.

Laura got closer, calling out your name once more, and you pulled back to look in his eyes. “I love you.” He told you one last time, before he allowed you to pull yourself from his grasp.

You had no idea whether he would be joining your group tomorrow, but you walked away from him with an empty chest, wiping away the tears that had dared to fall during the encounter. You would leave the last of the motivational speech to Laura, who you smiled gently at as you passed her in the woods, nodding towards where Logan still stood.

Logan had gotten what he needed from you. And you, from him.

[socksual-innuendos]

What are ghouls?

we just don't know....

Some ghoul biology headcanons and some review of the two different ghoulification methods (as supported and not by canon)

This was initially sparked by how I hate the implication of all ghouls being obligate addicts to prevent going feral (as seen from the show). However, given what we know of the themes of Fallout and some confirmations in both FO: Prime and FO4, I've decided there might be some interesting implications here, along with further looks into what makes ghoul go ghoul.

Please let me know what you think, I love this sort of meta talk.

Edit Log:

Edit 1 (4/25) - Spelling, phrasing, and additional Glowing One information made to "Biological Quirks" section in Radiation

So what are ghouls?

Well, a short description from what we see from the wiki/games/canon is that ghouls are those exposed to radiation that don't die of radiation poisoning and instead mutate. Exposure means vary from accidental exposure from the bombs/irradiated areas to outright deliberate exposures via experimentation, hopes for immortality, or simply listed as....."serum/drug".

The games have shown us that the process of ghouling isn't just novel to humans, nor is it just novel to humanoid shapes (see; Harold). However I am going to specifically cover humans and how they ghoulify.

There isn't a set reason on what exactly predisposes someone to ghouling vs dying, nor is there parameters on what makes them go feral. Risk factors, yes, but nothing set in absolute stone (aside from that inhalant withdrawal) This leaves room for the fun, and boy did I have fun writing this.

So lets start with the obvious;

There are two subsets of ghouls,

This is actually implied by canon and outright stated in the meta material. One set is directly radiation induced. These are the ones we are most familiar with.

The other is biochemically created, induced by drugs. These we have a few examples of, however with little to no explanation of....why is there a ghoul drug. More specifically, no direct reason is given for "Drug that turns you ghoul". I however have some ideas on how this came about.

In this post I will cover a few topics relating to ghoul qualities and how they vary between the two sub-types. These will be;

I. Modes of Creation: How We Go Ghoul and What This Implies II. Biological Quirks III. Ferals. What Are They, What Causes Them, And Why Aren't They Attacking Each Other IV. The Rotting vs Chem-Heads: Interpersonal Politics Within Non-Feral Ghoul Populations

I. Modes of Creation: How We Go Ghoul and What This Implies

Ghouls Created by Radiation Exposure:

So you've just survived the nuclear holocaust. What's next? Well, if the onset of radiation sickness is anything to go by, then not much....

Unless you're one of the lucky few who ghoulify.

But what causes one to ghoulify and another to succumb to the radiation? What exactly in the genes make one turn while another simply dies. The exact answer does not seem to exist, however we are shown in several cases that Pre-War was not afraid to experiment with radiation.

While in some instances these experimentation involved medications or chemicals (see: next section), there is mention of controlled exposures to radiation being something studied.

This experimentation can be seen through Vault-Tec Vaults (Vault 12) and implied in a few pre-war medical buildings/holotapes (Robco Buildings, the accounts of Control Subject Peters) and with outright accounts, such as Eddie Winters and Desmond Lockhart.

In short, while we don't precisely know if Pre-War knew that ghouls from radiation exposure were truly and properly immortal, or even considered them as a "successful" rabbit hole to pursue for immortality, we know that experiments to study the effects of radiation sickness were performed. In some cases, the exposure was to test for serums and medications that would hopefully prevent/reverse radiation sickness (And likely how we got Rad-X/RadAway. See: FO4s Control Patient Peter's Logs).

We do however see that irradiation is likely the most common mode for many of the ghouls of the wastelands. Pre-War ghouls that were not part of radiation exposure experiments were often times implied to be those not from areas directly in blast range and rather came into radiation exposure after they crawled out through the falled-out, baby (kill me). However, those directly in the blast that weren't vaporized are often implied to immediately be turned feral (Camp Searchlight, and other similarly directly hit areas), though sections such as Lonesome Road and certain in-game ghouls prove that some do not immediately turn feral.

These ghouls are described as experiencing radiation sickness that never got around to killing them before...it almost seeming to get better. They experience the GI upset, hemorrhaging, "illness" (fever), confusion, sloughing of necrotic tissues, and so on, before stabilizing into what we call ghouls. It is assumed that they eventually hit the "regenerative" stage of ghoulification after their bodies succumb to these symptoms. This may be evident due to radiation exposed ghouls having the intense healing potentials as ghouls, but never "gaining back" normal, non rotting appearance.

Ghouls Created by Biochemical Means:

We know through Hancock that there is an "experimental radiation drug" that can ghoulify people. We see something similar in FO:Prime, with Thaddeus taking a "healing serum" from the Chicken Fucker and how it looks (both in color and method of using) similar to that of the chem that The Ghoul uses/depends on. We are given both The Ghoul and one of his acquaintances (Ass Jerky) as direct examples of being dependent on this chem to prevent going feral.

According to the wiki, there are implications of two different types of chems that can cause a person to ghoul, directly quoted with "This does depend on the type of the drug"

While I am not too certain that these drugs differ all that much in how they cause ghouification, I have a theory about why the wiki needed to state multiple types of chems that ghoulify an individual.

Firstly that there is mention of experiments for immortality. I believe that this may be an "all roads", a converging of methods to one end, type scenario. Multiple drug types, one outcome. One or more of the major corporations was trying to unlock the secrets to immortality, however in this world that usually comes to the end of "ghoulifying" in some manner. I believe this is the drug-type that those like Hancock had found and used. This is the rarest of these types of drugs (as supported by canon) and also does not cause dependency of its users.

Secondly, I believe there are other handful of instances where some tried to create failed (or even prototype) Rad-X like medications (or even some kind of advanced form of Stimpaks) prior to the war as a "Keep this in your prep-kit" first-aid. This would be the direct medication (and in long post-war scenarios "Copy Cat" medication) that those like The Ghoul and ghouls in Fallout: Prime are dependent on. This would easily explain how some people, pre-war (such as Cooper Howard, as we know his personality pre-war) who may seem resistant to the idea of experimental or even promised immortality, would accidentally become a ghoul who is obligatorily stuck taking this medication. This being an assumed Rad-X/Immediate big wound healing-like drug would also allow for easy accidental (or deliberate) manufacturing post-war selling of it. Home brewed variations of a radiation resistant/Stimpak-like medication can sometimes have opposite effects, and this may be how some people "accidentally" become biochemically created ghouls.

We can however see that there is a market created for biochemical ghouls and their stabilizing medications as both F76 and FO: Prime show that these drugs are manufactured post-war and specifically for ghouls.

The wiki mentions that biochemically created ghouls retain their appearances longer than radiation created ghouls, however ultimately they begin their own process of becoming what we know more traditionally as ghouls. We can see this illustrated with Thaddeus from the show.

Now let's move on to how they differ as ghouls;

II. Biological Quirks

Ghouls are defined by a few qualities;

Extended lifespan (functionally immortal), enhanced healing factors, immunity to disease, radiation perks, nourishment requirements, and issues with sterility/reproduction.

We will dive into each of these topics and discuss that while both ghouls may share these qualities, there may be some variance into the extent or modes of how these qualities present.

Extended Lifespan:

We have come to understand and observe that ghouls will live, functionally, forever, unless killed. This point is fairly straight forward, however going feral is an ever present fear amongst both irradiated ghouls and biochemical ghouls. While we will explore ferals later on in this post, we will note that this can be seen as its own form of "death" within certain ghoul communities.

Enhanced Healing Factors:

We are both shown and told that ghouls have incredible healing abilities. While they cannot regrow limbs, it is shown that they can reattach missing body parts so long as one is available to graft.

We will get into nourishment needs in its own section, however I believe that the healing factors also extend here. Ghouls can sustain themselves longer without food or water due to some work of their healing factors, however this creates a strain on the body that makes injury recuperation dampen slightly.

However, while ghouls tend to be able to regenerate from bodily injury with ease, we can see some examples of preexisting conditions not being healed (a directly given example is Hugo Stolz in F76, who remains blind even after ghoulification). This may be explained with the same reason as to why ghoul skin is necrotic and does not seem to heal itself. My personal justification is that anything that happens prior to a ghoul "stabilizing" is almost always permanent.

Another thing to note is how this regeneration is an imperfect process. This may be best illustrated with how biochemical ghouls have a slower "ghouling" of their appearance. It is mentioned that "accumulating damage will change the ghoul's appearance over time". This implies that sometimes healing from an injury is not done perfectly or appropriately. This could also explain why some ghouls have different disfigurements or gain degenerative conditions such as arthritis, loss of vision, or hearing.

Immunity To Disease:

We know that ghouls have an amazing ability to regenerate, however it is not gone into detail about how they are "unaffected by most common diseases". I personally believe there is some nuance to this between irradiated ghouls and biochemical ghouls.

Irradiated ghouls no longer have an immune system. This was something destroyed and not gotten back (much like how areas of skin will slough off and not regen). However, due to their body's base radiation retention there are very few ailments that can actually infect an irradiated ghoul to being symptomatic. Their bodies are generally inhospitable to outside invading organisms.

Biochemical ghouls on the other hand retain some of their immune system and have a lesser resistance to disease than an irradiated ghoul. However they have a better resistance than an unmutated human to diseases.

Both ghoul types rely on their bolstered resistance to disease and their healing factors to protect against diseases as most medications do not work on them, or at least have a lessened overall efficacy. Again this goes off the logic from the wikia that a ghoul's healing factors provide some dampening effects to chems. Also through this logic, poisons tend to also need to be administered in much higher doses for a ghoul to even feel the effects of it.

While most medications do not tend to effect ghouls or only work at higher dosages, there is a special interaction they have with Rad-X and RadAway. We will explore this in the next section.

Radiation; Resistance To And Effects Of:

Ghouls are especially known for their resistance to radiation. This is a quality that is as associated with them as the potential of going feral is. However, I believer there are some key differences between the ghoul types and their interactions with radiation.

Irradiated ghouls stand to gain the most from radiation, for obvious reasons. While traveling through the warm glowing fields of areas still emitting high levels of radiation is a perk in and of itself, they also stand to gain some physical benefits from this as well.

With the example of the Marked Men, it is shown that ghouls can subsist off radiation alone. I also believe this bolsters their base healing factors. Toss a bag of meat pulped ghoul into a nuclear waste spill and he'll join you for dinner in a few hours. They may also experience boosts in mood and endurance.

Irradiated ghouls are canonically mentioned to also hold onto their radiation exposure, where some even become glowing ones. I do think that a ghoul must have moments of "recharge" to remain glowing ones, as over time radiation decays off the body. While the short term doesn't seem to be effected by this, for beings who can live hundreds of years, some can see fluctuations of internal radiation retention.

There is also mentioned for glowing ones being somewhat eccentric. With this idea I say continued radiation exposure and retention can produce almost a high or destortive effect to cognitive function if left unchecked.

Almost comically, while ghouls have no direct use for RadAway, they can use it to drop this retained radiation. This however is dangerous for Irradiated ghouls...

There is however mentions that radiation exposure can be a risk factor of feralization. We will go into further detail later on, however I will slightly touch on this now.

Concentrated blasts of radiation can be dangerous for both ghoul types, however high radiation exposure over time is more a risk factor for biochemical ghouls going feral than irradiated ghouls. On the other hand, irradiated ghouls using RadAway would put them at a higher risk for going feral. Thankfully this later issue is not something most irradiated ghouls need to consider. Most documented RadAway use in ghouls is for retained radiation regulation for those choosing to stay within human colonies.

Nourishment Requirements:

The wiki seems to be pretty inconsistent with this, so I take this as an invite to shoehorn my theories in. The wiki says that ghouls do need to feed and water themselves to stay alive, however we are given a few instances where this is heavily not the case.

Outright, we are given exceptions to the rule with Coffin Willy, Woody, Billy Peabody (fridge kid), and The Ghoul, all of whom had scenarios of being deprived of food and water and survived for extended periods (and most egregiously is Billy, who was trapped in a fridge starving and thirsty for over 200 years).

This is justified however by them being in "a hibernation like state", however other examples are also the Marked Men, who are said to be sustained off radiation alone. These ghouls are shown to be in an active and alert state. Raul Tejada himself mentions baking in the sun for several days, and while unmoving, had to trek three days back to civilization afterwards. We may see other examples of this through dialogue implications where ghouls may be deprived of food and water needs for durations that would kill a regular human.

I believe however that this can be dangerous for ghouls, especially given our next discussion of feralization.

It is worth noting that the wikia says ghouls have lost their sense of taste. While this may be a common phenomenon, we see it may not necessarily hold true for all ghouls due to comments from ghoul companions regarding flavor preferences. (See: Raul's sweet tooth)

Sterility/Reproduction:

While it is broadly understood that ghouls cannot reproduce, the wiki does not dive into much more detail here. I, however, propose that while radiation as a whole is detrimental to the reproductive system, coupled with the regenerative effects of ghouls, there are some...unfortunate outliers within this topic.

In regards to spermatogenesis, sperm count is at a constant low. Assuming there is anything produced, it is almost always malformed in someway.

In regards to ovum, almost all remaining eggs within the ovaries are considered mutated and non-viable. While menstruation is not unheard of in ghouls, it is more likely to occur in biochemical ghouls. However, all cycles are highly abnormal with next to no regularity. Ghouls will eventually hit a 'menopause' and 'post menopausal' state, however this is not conventional in timeline as with humans.

While viability of either gamete is near non-existent, this doesn't prove absence of fertilization. Most common cases of fertilization is that between human egg cells and ghoul sperm cells. While this often ends with miscarriage in the blastocyst stage, implantation has happened in even rarer cases. Intervention is usually needed as this often is ectopic or produces continual hemorrhage. In even rarer cases, these can produce teratoma type "pregnancies".

Very rarely does a ghoul egg cell get fertilized. It is almost undocumented and it is believed this is due to every instance of fertilization is miscarried before or soon after implantation.

Within the realm of sexual disease, there is few directly infectious agents to worry about between ghouls. However, for ghouls with human partners it is encouraged to use barrier-type protection or other means to limit radiation exposure. Necrotic tissue is also a concern, especially when exposed to mucosa membranes. Exposure of irradiated semen to these membranes is also another large concern for human partners. Condoms are highly encouraged, with rad-checks and use of RadAway being another measure to facilitate healthy measures for these relations.

III. Ferals. What Are They, What Causes Them, And Why Aren't They Attacking Each Other

So let's talk ferals. Aside from the rotting flesh smell and appearance, the threat of going feral is among one of the biggest factors that non mutants use for ostracizing ghouls, and one of the biggest internal threats that ghouls face.

While we understand what causes feralization and know risk factors, what precisely triggers one to turn feral while another doesn't is about as well understood as what makes some go ghoul in the first place.

Feralization is described as a degenerative process of the mind and, in late stages, the body.

In this section we will cover a few things;

1.) Risk factors and how they fluctuate between ghoul sub-types. 2.) Behaviors of ferals 3.) Inter-community treatment of ferals

Risk Factors: What Are They And How They Differ Between Ghoul Subtypes:

We are of the understanding that ghouls can turn feral when experiencing certain physical or mental stressors. These stressors are reported as follows;

Social Isolation Poor Mental State/Intense Emotional Stressors Exposure to Intense Radiation Genetic Factors

While the above are wiki provided risk factors, I have included some of my own accepted risk factors below;

Intense Physical Stressors Extended Periods of Fasting/Dehydration Sudden Decrease in Retained Radiation Substance Withdrawal

First we will address the risk factors that effect both sub-types and discuss how these can pose higher or lower threats based upon the specific biology of said ghouls.

Social isolation, poor mental state/intense emotional stressors, genetic factors, substance withdrawal, intense physical stressors, and extended periods of dehydration/starvation are all things that can trigger feralization in ghouls, however the threshold for such will vary among the individuals.

For irradiated ghouls, exposure to intense radiation is unlikely to be a trigger for feralization unless it is a direct, concentrated blast of radiation. However if there is a sudden decrease in their retained radiation, such as if RadAway is used in high enough doses, then feralization is a much higher concern.

Irradiated ghouls have somewhat of an advantage against starvation/dehydration, as being in areas with a higher ambient radiation can mitigate the ill effects of not eating/drinking.

Biochemical ghouls, however, struggle more with going longer periods of time without sustenance. They are also more vulnerable to continued exposure to high doses of radiation. While it is unfair to include their serum under substance withdrawal, it is also their main means to prevent feralization. However both ghoul types are vulnerable to withdrawal causing them to turn.

Behaviors of Ferals:

It is well known that feral ghouls are a dangerous type, however it is also well known that they do not seem to attack each other nor other ghouls.

If feralization is a degradation of higher cognitive function, how is it then that most feral ghouls know when they are in like company? This is not so well understood, however it has been observed that appearance does play a role but is not a sure fire way to pass through a horde of feral ghouls. One theory I have is that ferals are drawn to radiation and by extension can feel it off other ghoulified beings. This keeps them in a calmer, more contented state. Surprisingly, super mutants seem to also bypass the ire of feral ghouls. The precise reason for this is less understood, however FEV may have some play here. It is known that ferals have heightened senses, perhaps even FEV created mutants have a specific smell that does not trigger a hunt response in feral populations.

In regards to their dangerous behaviors, ferals seem to be driven by hyper aggression and hunger. I will take liberties and a page from the lobotomite handbook, as well as reference how some extensive cognitive degeneration causes hyper sexuality/aggression in some.

However, the less observed side to ferals is one more human. While they never truly seem to know what they are doing, some ghoul colonies that tend their feral population note domestic-like behaviors such as; attempting to clean, cook, perform yard work, tend dolls, or perform duties and adhere to schedules relating to those they had prior to turning feral. Some have even reported that certain ferals "remember" actions such as smoking and will perform this in rudimentary fashion.

Inter-Community Treatment of Ferals:

So now that we know more about feral ghouls, how do they fit into the world? While most of us know them as residing in city ruins, content to stay hidden away from the harshness of the burning sun and light, some have found home amongst ghoul societies.

While non-feral ghouls within mixed colonies may hold less compassionate views of their feral brethren, certain ghoul societies dedicate care and inclusion of ferals into their society. Their exclusion may even be seen as betrayal, and they are as valued and protected as much as any non-feral member.

IV. The Rotting vs Chem-Heads: Interpersonal Politics Within Non-Feral Ghoul Populations

While most people view ghouls as ghouls, and acceptance of them can vary from being seen as equals, to indifference, to outright hostility, the nuance between irradiated ghouls and biochemical ghouls is almost entirely understood exclusively within ghoul populations (or with those that study them).

Unsurprisingly, this has caused some conflicts. While feralization is something that is an assumed inevitable end for all ghouls, the more immediate threat of turning plagues most biochemical ghouls near constantly. This has given some irradiated ghouls a complex that biochemical ghouls are the poster child for why most non-mutant societies fear unprompted feralization.

On the other end, biochemical ghouls will often criticize their irradiated brethren for their appearance and smell being a determining factor for why most people do not welcome ghouls into most spaces.

There is also the discussion of who has suffered more, with irradiated ghouls often citing their endurance of radiation sickness and often continued effects while biochemical ghouls often quote their substance dependency as a constant struggle.

V. In Conclusion:

So surely with all that we have learned so far we understand that there is much more complexity to ghouls than initially thought. I hope you enjoyed my compilation of ideas and stuff I got off the wiki/from gameplay as much as I enjoyed writing it.

If you have any ideas or compilations for ghouls, feel free to drop them in the replies! I look forward to reading them and perhaps even working on another post regarding ghoul social and cultural structures!

[erinelliotc]

A few years ago I used to be that annoying "transmasc lesbians don't exist, this shit is harmful and invalidates both transmascs and lesbians" person, and now I'M the transmasc lesbian. Seems like the tables have turned, huh?

I've spent so many months, years, trying so hard to fit into these categories that I saw so many people talk about as if it were the definitive truth, and this shallow and simplistic vision seems to be gaining a lot of attention and traction here in Brazil. Isn't it ironic to free yourself from cisnormativity and heteronormativity and all these binary boxes to find yourself again trying to fit into other boxes and norms that don't actually describe your experience correctly? Because your experience with gender is so chaotic and confusing (as expected of a nonbinary identity, and even more so if you're neurodivergent too) that there's no simple way to describe it. Then when you find out what describes this, people say you can't identify yourself that way because two or more of your identities are "incompatible". I see people treating non-binarity as if it were an exact science, as if it were math, as if it were something simple and logical, as it is precisely the escape from what has been established in our society as the only two possible options, generating countless identities within a gray area outside this black and white vision, so of course it's something complex, abstract and subjective.

EDIT: One of my reasons for thinking this way was that I ignored that the transgender experience and the cisgender experience aren't and will never be equivalent. It's obvious that a cis man can't be a lesbian, but the same doesn't go for transmasc people, and I thought that admitting that was the same as being transphobic, denying the masculinity of transmascs, denying their male identity. I already had a debate on Twitter because people didn't want to admit that trans men and transmasc people in general can suffer misogyny and male chauvinism (as society can still see and treat us as women) because they also saw it as the same as saying transmasc people are women. The identity of trans people is a very complex experience that involves a series of factors that cis people will never experience. We cannot equate the trans experience with the cis experience.

I thought identifying as a butch lesbian was enough to describe my masculinity, but I realized that I felt like it didn't encompass everything I felt, I still felt like something was missing. Preventing and depriving myself of identifying with more explicit masculine identities was actually making me feel bad and dysphoric. So yeah, I've been avoiding identifying with male-aligned identities because I thought that would mean having to stop identifying as a lesbian, and I didn't want that, and I don't really feel like calling myself straight makes any sense.

I have a text in Portuguese talking about my experience as a butch lesbian, and I feel that now it also serves to describe my experience as a nonbinary transmasc (the part where I talk about not identifying with "traditional masculinity", but with a "different type", like "soft masculinity", is directly related to the fact that, in addition to being nonbinary, I don't identify as a man, I don't feel comfortable with the term "man", but rather with "boy"). I spent a few months wondering whether I was libramasculine or boyflux, and I ended up deciding that if I can't identify which one I am, maybe it makes more sense to just adopt both identities, maybe I am both then! I'm tired of trying to fit into supposed rules about being nonbinary. This is exactly how non-binarity shouldn't be. I'm supposed to feel free, not trapped again. My identity is my identity and that's nobody's business.

[centrally-unplanned]

Recently I have heard a bunch of people discussing Sarah Paine, a professor at the US Naval War College. Dwarkesh Patel uploaded a bunch of her lectures to his YouTube, Noah Smith (jokingly) referred to her as the One Good Historian, etc. She appeals to, in particular, the "neo hawk" camp around rising competition with China.

She had a video on Japan in WW2 which, given that that is my area of expertise, I thought I would watch...and it is weird, man. She has the cultural bent to her analysis - she approaches analyzing Japan's strategic decision-making from in part their cultural obsessions with bushido, the imperial system, etc. This is an "old guard" approach that modern historiography tends to downplay - for example, interviews with captured POWs (who didn't surrender) during the war generally showed not that they were motivated by a deep code of honor (though ofc it was there), but by propaganda from their own government that if captured the US would torture and execute them. Bansai charging makes a bit more sense now, right? But Paine isn't dogmatic about it, and it isn't like the cultural factors played no role in Japan's thinking, so this is a matter of taste.

But much more off-putting are these sort of "communist menace" vibes that run through it, where she portrays Japan as inordinately concerned with the communist forces in China as some sort of big threat. That just is not true, they did not consider them very relevant, and it leads to a bunch of weird statements. Like okay, ~27 minutes in, we have this quote:

[China in the 1930's] is a mess. It is coalescing into a bilateral competition between the Nationalists under Chiang Kai Shek and the Communists under Mao Zedong, fighting with increasing dosages of Soviet aid. And the Japanese are appalled with all of this, and so it is time to surprise everybody again in 1937 - when they invade all the way down the Chinese coast.

Essentially pitching a narrative of growing communist/nationalist civil war provoking Japan into action to intervene. Which, I am sorry, what? This is a map of China in 1937

With Nationalist China/The KMT ruling most of the country in some form and the Communist forces ruling a rump state fortress in the mountains. By 1934 the civil war was pretty much on a standstill, and in 1936 (involving a kidnapping of Chiang, diplomacy baby!) they even signed a ceasefire to unite against the Japanese. And while she can weasel-word her way out of this, most people's read of that phrasing of "Soviet aid" would think it was going to the Communist forces to help them, right? But that isn't true! The Soviets in the 1930's were giving far more aid to the Nationalists, backing them as the obvious winners and hoping to court them as an ally against Japan.

There was no rising communist threat in China in the 1930's - instead there was a growing unity in China under the KMT to oppose the Japanese that was causing Japanese military planners to fret. Which would justify Japan's "surprise intervention"...if they did that intentionally, but they didn't! The war was started essentially by mistake, and Japan (and China) both tried to negotiate a ceasefire multiple times before it spiraled out of control due to aggressive local commanders.

(This also is the case for Japan's "other" surprise she mentions, the invasion of Manchuria - it was a strategic ploy to expand the empire, yes, but by the local 'Kwangtung Army' in open defiance of the government's orders! Not exactly 'high strategy'.)

In isolation any one of these - and other examples in the video - could just be awkward phrasings or interpretive differences, but in aggregate I think this is a level of revisionism that I can't stomach as being in good faith. It is just one video but these are pretty basic mistakes to be making. I don't think this person is a good historian, which definitely makes me question her expertise on the present-day CCP.

[incognit0slut]

SILENT PLEA

Part 1 of kinktober | main masterlist

Being a few feet away from your friends wasn’t going to stop you from seeking pleasure with your professor.

softdom!spencer x fem reader; Thigh-riding, teasing, semi-public, praise, age gap, power imbalance with teacher/student dynamic

words: 2,932

a/n: this one is dedicated to those who just wants to sit on his lap while being praised 🖤 (also i has to repost this bcs of some error it was so weird)

IT WAS HIS EYES. The rich, earthy tones of his irises with subtle flecks of amber and gold held a comforting warmth that seemed to radiate within, drawing you in like a moth to a flame. You always found yourself captivated every time his gaze fell on you. It felt as if he had a secret language written in those brown orbs, one that spoke volumes without uttering a single word.

Or it might've been his hands. You always knew he had nice, well-kept hands but the more you examined them, the more you noticed how enticing they truly were. The size of them always surprised you, as well as the length of his fingers, but it was the veins running along the backs of his hands that really made you dry at the mouth.

Maybe it was the age difference. The mature lines on his face, those crinkle lines around his eyes whenever he smiled only adding an appeal to his appearance. And the way he carried himself with a sense of authority was definitely a factor, one that never failed to make you weak in the knees.

But perhaps it was just him. All of him. The way he stood at his tall height. The way he laughed at his own joke. The way he spoke in his lectures—the enthusiasm palpable in his voice as he explained the difference between a trigger and a stressor while mentioning he was going to put them in the finals, something he shouldn't have probably done.

It was everything about him. His unruly hair. His tailored suit. His charming smile.

And there was the way that he called you, addressing your first name in a room full of people, yet every time you were alone with him, you felt special. You were always his good girl.

"You're such a good girl for me, you know that, right?"

You knew, because every time you did as you were told, he gave you more. More than what you wanted, more than what you needed. He knew you inside and out, and as much as you hated to admit what you were doing these past couple of months was deemed inappropriate, you still couldn't help it. Everything about him made you crave more.

That was why you found yourself perched on his lap after class. It was wrong on so many levels. Not only was it unprofessional for a faculty member to be sexually involved with a student, it was also looked down upon to be in a relationship with someone almost twice your age. But temptation won over rational thoughts, and you had to admit, the professor you had a crush on ever since he introduced himself in front of the class, was really good at tempting you.

"Spence..." You sighed out, hips squirming along his lap. Each of your legs was on either side of his thigh, and you sat there, waiting for him to do something because you were desperate. How could you not when he had been eying you throughout this morning? The subtle glint of mischief wasn't lost on you when he spoke in front of you and your peers, and now that you were finally alone with him, you wanted his undivided attention.

Spencer's hands gripped your thighs as his eyes swept along your body. They momentarily paused on the low dip of your shirt, your cleavage visible for his own pleasure, before he glanced back up to your face.

"We don't have much time," he reminded, yet his hands were sliding up your skirt. And he was right, there wasn't enough time. Staying in his class after everyone had left wasn't exactly ideal, but it didn't stop you from locking the door before you practically climbed on top of him. You knew his next class was about to start in fifteen—no, thirteen minutes. You had already spent the two minutes waiting impatiently for him to touch you.

Now you couldn't leave this room without having a part of him. You needed him, every fiber in your body was screaming for him, and if you had to beg for him to comply with your needs, you would gladly do it in a heartbeat.

"Please." Your voice was barely a whisper, yet he still heard you loud and clear. "I-I need you."

Your breath hitched as his thumb stroked along the outline of your underwear and it took a lot of self-control for you not to whine pathetically. "Yeah? Tell me what you need then."

You paused, opting to choose the right words that wouldn't sound so vulgar because, with the way your body was reacting, you could only think of wild, explicit things. Your eyes settled on his face, sinking in the way he was watching you intensely, and your words abruptly stopped at the tip of your tongue.

"Go on, use your words," he urged. "Tell me what you want me to do."

You let out a trembling sigh. Everything about him was already consuming you, but the moment his hands danced along your sides, you knew you had to have more. Lust surged within you like a relentless tide, pulling you deeper into its intoxicating depths. It was a feverish, aching hunger that clawed at your insides, demanding satisfaction. The simple warmth radiating from his hands gripping your thighs just wasn't enough. So you braved yourself and leaned closer, resting your hands on his shoulders.

"I-I want you to touch me."

A ghost of a smile played on his lips. "But I am touching you."

You looked at him through your lashes, biting down your bottom lip. "More," you pleaded. "Please."

He hummed a reply, his hands slowly leaving your hips before they trailed under your blouse, traveling up the length of your body before stopping right on your breasts. Your senses danced with anticipation, every nerve alert and quivering, as his hands cupped each flesh, squeezing them ever so slightly as you felt a thumb brush across a nipple over the thin layer of your bra.

"Like this?" All you could manage was a tiny nod and his smile grew wider. You couldn't help but buckle your hips when he rolled your nipples between his fingers, playing with them in a seductive tease.

"What else do you want?" He gently asked. You noticed the way his voice began to descend, gradually sinking into a deeper tone, and your eyes instinctively fell on his mouth. His lips were a perfect balance between fullness and subtlety. It was gently curved and so inviting that you wanted to feel the shape of them right against yours.

"I..." you started, your voice in a breathless whisper. "I want you to kiss me."

He let out a pleased sound, slowly sliding his hands out of your shirt. "I can definitely do that."

And then he was moving forward, pressing his lips to yours, caging you in with strong hands on either side of your face. You instantly melted like a puddle. You were ice and he was the sun, and the mere taste of him had your body dissipate in his arms.

He teased your bottom lip with the tip of his tongue, lightly tracing the pink skin until your mouth parted in invitation. You moan quietly as the taste of him—faint traces of coffee and something incredibly sweet—greeted you. His tongue slid against yours, hot and eager to taste you as pleasure surged throughout your body.

Spencer slowly pulled away, trailing his lips down your neck before he sucked on the spot right under your ear. You could practically feel the smile against your skin as his hands traveled down your arms, holding you gently as he whispered, "Tell me what else you want."

The ache between your legs was too much to handle. A simple kiss was enough for your body to burn with lust. You needed the pleasure, you needed the release, and he was the only one who could give it to you. He was the only one who knew your body as if you were made exactly for him to ravish. Your eyes smoldered with an insatiable longing and your breath came in shallow, hurried gasps, each one a desperate plea for fulfillment.

It was now or never.

"I want you to fuck me."

He leaned back, if he was surprised by your choice of words, he didn't show it. Instead, he let out a sigh as his hands continued to move down your sides again. "Oh, sweetheart, it's not that I don't want to, but we both know I would need more than..." His eyes swept over the watch around his wrist. "...eight minutes to fuck you properly."

Your breath hitched in your throat, then you watched as the curve of his lip turned upwards into a teasing smile.

"But I can't leave my sweet girl all desperate like this, can I?" Then his hands were back on your hips. "Why don't you ride my thigh instead?"

Your face heated up at the suggestion while your mouth slipped out a desperate whimper. Your skin flushed with a warm, feverish glow, and the world around you faded into obscurity as desire became your sole focus.

You were hesitant, but you were also desperate to find your release, so your body started moving on its own, hips rutting against the roughness of his pants. Pressing the growing heat surging between your legs onto his thigh sent a shiver in your system.

Much to his pleasure, Spencer's mouth stretched out into a thin and permissive smile, unable to hide his satisfaction. "That's it," he praised, fingers digging into your hips. His raspy voice only made you burn with red-hot desire. "Keep going."

Following his words, you moved your pelvis. What started out lazy and slow soon turned into sporadic thrusts as you tried to cling to any friction, grinding yourself against his leg with such fervor. It was too much, but at the same time, it wasn't enough.

Attempting to catch your breath, you buried your face into the crook of his neck to suppress your mewls of arousal as best as you could. But as he continued to massage your hips and manually move you back and forth on his leg, the effort quickly became useless.

"This feels good, doesn't it?" He murmured. "It's so cute how easily you get off with just my thigh, don't you think?" He said, giving your ass cheeks a firm squeeze.

You breathed his name as your eyes fluttered to a close. You grind your hips harder down onto his thigh, gasping against his lips when your clit caught on the material of his pants. Your toes curl as the fierce heat of pleasure overtook your senses. You were greedy with it, chasing after that spark as you rocked your hips steadily, bottom lip trapped between your teeth, and eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

"Doing so well for me," he whispered against your ear, hands gripping your hips as you rubbed yourself against his thigh quickly. He smiled when a soft, strangled moan escaped your parted lips, which encouraged him even more. "Look at you, drooling over my leg."

And just to prove his point, he pushed your skirt up along your legs until its material lay loosely around your waist. His eyes took in the sight of you. The way you were grinding against his leg frantically, the thin fabric of your underwear pressing between your throbbing cunt from the constant friction, slightly showing off soft, bare skin glistening under the light.

"So fucking wet," he mused, his tongue swiping along his lower lip as he watched you drenching him. "Just the way I like it."

It felt as if you were floating, so pleasurably dizzy it turned your head to mush. It was hard to keep yourself upright, eyes rolling back, body nearly giving out. And the wisest thing to do for you was to stop because you could imagine the mess you were making. You could also imagine the wet patch of your arousal staining his pants, visible for everyone to see.

"P-People will talk," you whispered between bated breaths.

"Let them." He rocked your hips forward, encouraging you to move faster. "Let them know your sweet pussy made this mess on me."

A soft, involuntary whimper escaped your lips. You rolled your hips again, and the beginnings of something heady and sweet swelled within you. But in that heat of the moment, a sudden hush fell over the room, and your heightened senses caught the faint sound of footsteps approaching from outside. Your body stilled, every muscle tensed, and your breathing became shallow as you strained to listen to the distant murmur of voices.

Spencer suddenly leaned closer and ran the tips of his teeth along the outer shell of your ear once he felt your momentum slow. "I didn't tell you to stop, did I?"

You shuddered in response and found your pace again, faster and longer, continuing to knead yourself against his thigh. But then the sudden jolt of the doorknob sent a bolt of panic through you.

"It's locked," a muffled voice echoed from behind the door. "Isn't class supposed to start soon?"

Your ears perked up at the familiar voice before a second voice chimed in, yet still holding a familiarity you also recognized. "Is he not here yet?"

A small groan escaped your lips. There was no denying who those voices belonged to. They were your friends, albeit not that close, yet you were still acquainted with them and the thought of having people you knew standing a few feet away from you while you continued to rut your hips against him was making your head delirious.

"Do you know them?"

You nodded helplessly.

"Then maybe you should keep your voice down," he suggested, holding you closer to him. "Don't want them to know what you're doing in here, do you?"

He noticed the way your body stiffened.

"Or is that what gets you off?" He asked. "Your friends standing a few feet away while you're grinding desperately on your professor?" His hand sits on your lower back, drifting down to the tops of your ass, forcing you to rut forward.

It was so, so wrong, yet you couldn't stop the pleasure coursing through your veins at the possibility of being caught. The knowledge that your friends were just outside, on the brink of discovering your intimate moment, added an exhilarating layer to your pleasure.

"Spencer," you whined. "Please."

"Naught minx," he mumbled. "I think I like seeing you like this."

Suddenly, he jerked his leg up, catching you off guard and you whined instantly, unprepared to counter the pressure pushing up onto your sore cunt. Muffled cries of ecstasy escaped your lips, your teeth clenched in a futile attempt to hold back your moan.

It didn't take long until a pulsating warmth began to radiate from the pit of your stomach. Each passing second brought a rising crescendo, a mounting tension that threatened to shatter your composure. You whimpered, thighs shaking slightly as you continued the abuse toward your clit, somehow the material of his pants made the stimulation even better and it almost caused you to lurch forward in shock.

"That's it, use me," he encouraged. "So, so good for me. My sweet girl."

Your breath came in short, shallow gasps, and your body quivered with a delicious ache. The intensity of it all was almost unbearable, and yet, you craved more, grinding yourself harder. Your muscles tightened, your breath quickened, your skin prickled with anticipation, and nothing could have prepared you for his next words.

"Cum on my thigh and I'll let you cum around my cock tonight."

That was it. You were instantly gone. The thought of having him stretching you was quickly engraved in your brain. The mental image of you spasming around his cock was enough for you to surrender into a blissful mess. The conversation outside continued and you made a concerted effort to keep your voice down, as waves of pleasure surged through you, causing your limbs to tremble and your muscles to spasm.

It wasn't until the sound of footsteps finally retreating from outside that a wave of relief ran through you, yet your breath still came in ragged gasps as he helped you ride out your orgasm and held you in place, making small ruts against himself with your spastic thighs gripping around him tighter.

"Oh my god—" he pulled you in for a kiss. Spencer's mouth devoured you, hot with a passion that made you dizzy. You whined into his mouth and bucked against him, little whimpers filling his throat. Then you felt his tongue on your bottom lip; you puckered your mouth, letting his tongue invade every corner of your entrance as a thrilling sensation shot right through your veins, finally riding out your orgasmic bliss.

When he finally pulled away, he watched as a string of saliva fell against your lips. He reached out and wiped the bottom of your lip with his thumb as his eyes glazed over your red and sweaty face. They flickered from your face down to your lower half as well as your equally drenched thighs. Yet despite the disheveled state of your hair and the sheen of sweat glistening on your skin, you radiated a raw and untamed beauty.

Spencer always thought you were beautiful, but nothing could compare to the sight before him. Your once-pristine hair was tumbled in disarray around your shoulders, framing your flushed face. Your eyes, half-closed and smoky with desire, held an irresistible allure that seemed to draw him closer with every glance. Then there were your lips, kissed to a plush, inviting fullness, beckoned with a promise of lingering sweetness. You looked wrecked, like a hot, beautiful mess.

And he couldn't wait to ravish you tonight.

[cozymochi]

If you don't mind oc questions, how does Nyoka, Emilio and Cecil feel about the prefect?

Do they see MC as a nuisance? Or someone interesting for managing to deal with 4 overblots? Excluding Jamil, Vil, and Malleus since it wasn't public to the entire school and since book 7 isn't finished yet

I ACCEPT OC QUESTIONS!!! they keep me from dwelling on doom :’) 💖 I know I answered something similar to this before but I’m going to use this to do better since this is non-specific (my old answer sucked anyway since I was unprepared). For simplicities, sake I’m going to disregard all OBs since the general Prefects involvement with them is barely addressed in a diegetic way to begin with outside of Book 3. So that’s a non-factor going forward.

——

Across all three boys I think they probably find the Prefect/MC to be a nuisance. But mostly framed under that “NRC great-mages-in-training with huge egos” finding the fact that a human with NO magic gets to be a student there (with Grim) for #reasons to be kind of insulting. It’s just a territorial and pride thing common for majority of the students there. These three aren’t exempt from that. But, they do act out in different ways.

Since Emilio is so shameless, Emilio will take any potshot to undermine the Prefect’s status, accomplishments (if any) and their popularity, even is this popularity is more so “infamy” than anything else (which it is). They are in the same grade level, so encounters are more frequent. I think he probably sees a bit of himself in the Prefect, and ends up projecting onto them more than he should. He’ll probably warm up eventually though depending on how development goes, but it will not be an easy task, assuming this Prefect is a general good faith person. And yes, he would apologize and take every moment to atone for his behavior if they ever became friends.

Cecil, despite his own issues, would rather ignore the Prefect and generally wants nothing to do with them. I don’t think he’d be mean like Emilio, just a little snarky if they crossed paths. But he’s just naturally pretty snarky despite his bumbling nature. He wouldn’t do anything though. He doesn’t know it yet but it’s not really in him to be all that mean. He does know that Housewarden Malleus regards the Prefect highly, but can’t understand why. If the Prefect were to an extend a friendly hand first towards Cecil and remain persistent (persistence is key), then Cecil would eventually come around tenfold. I think a Prefect friendship would do Cecil some good. Maybe even improve his magical performance even— who knows 👍

Nyoka sees the Prefect as prey. A mouse, even. That is food. However, in general Nyoka doesn’t regard the Prefect at all and would rather ignore them. This is pretty easy to do since they wouldn’t be too likely to cross paths. If they did though, in a non-confrontational way provided they keep a respectful distance, he would be deferential and civil. On paper this sounds good, but this is not exactly a warm scenario. Rule of thumb is to just not engage. If they did somehow frequently cross paths and a Prefect were to remain respectful of his space (and perhaps engage with his interests) then maybe that civility would become genuine. He might find the idea of a predator becoming slightly chummy with prey a little amusing, in its own way.

lol like how I spun this into “BUT WHAT IF FRIENDS???” Scenario

THANKS BYE

(OH right. @servamp01 )

[typewritingyip]

The Arcturus Missions

Part Forty - Layers

Part Thirty Nine

———

Kaiju, definition - a giant monster of a type featured in Japanese fantasy and science fiction movies, television, and novels. It is essentially a Japanese term that is commonly associated with media involving giant monsters. 

The term became commonplace when the attacks started in 1984, initially becoming the replacement term for the Japanese media as they described what was happening in the pacific. It later would bleed into western media, as to avoid the term alien and cause greater panic. 

A foreign enemy from space, these Kaiju would cause around a billion deaths in the first thirty years of the war, and still remain mostly a mystery.

To those familiar with the Quintesson (Kaiju’s for Earth’s naming practice) it would become painfully obvious that a majority of the Quintessons that have gone to and attacked Earth are low level scout soldiers. All similar in design with the simple purpose of obtaining materials for study, whether those be organic in nature or otherwise. 

Causing damage and death are hardly limiting factors in their function, their needs outway those of any other planet, society, or species. 

It’s exactly why they have maintained the fight going on for thirty years, there is not anything that will stand in their way of their goals and the things that do stand in their way are certainly worth studying. Or destroying. 

—

A nearby speaker squawked out something that sounded vaguely like Catalina, just as Jazz’s foot collided with it, “Sorry.” Hound cracked a bit of a smile, the rubble was disheartening enough without the speakers struggling. 

Hound was still holding Mirage up and only takes one glance at him before looking around, “Right, I need my pilots and then for the rest of you to fuck off for some cover, I mean no offense but you’re all a lot more hurt than would be useful right now.” Optimus sort of stared, glancing at the pilots.

They didn’t look to be in any better of a state then the Cybertronian’s, but looks were deceiving with them, “Alright,” Hound nodded slightly, “Prowl, if you could contact the closest unit to our location and try to get some backup, it would be appreciated. Especially any seekers.” Prowl nodded slightly, though his hold on Jazz didn’t let up.

Looking around, Hound takes a breath, “You guys feel alright to get to some cover?” Knockout glanced up to Optimus, “I’ll need help moving Megatron and I think someone will have to help Mirage.” With a nod, Bluestreak moves over, “I’ll help Mirage, we can go to the under-layer for some cover.” Hound carefully helps Mirage to Bluestreak, but grabs the front of Bluestreak’s plating and holds him close for a second.

Turning off the translator, “If he comes back to me with any more damage than he currently has, I will be pissed.” Bluestreak’s optics cycle once with confusion, but Hound levels a look at Prowl who nods slowly. 

He turns the translator back on and looks around, “Well, are you going to stand around or get out of here?” Slowly, the cybertronian’s left and Hound looked around at the pilots, “You all alright for this fight? If not, follow them.” He gestures loosely towards the Cybertronian’s.

Sunstreaker had left his arm in Bluestreak’s care, but bounces on the toes of his suit, “You kidding me? This is what we were built for.” He shot a glance towards his brother, Sideswipe was quick to ping them all.

Turning on their cameras, Hound tried not to laugh, or cry.

They all looked like hell, their assistance suits and suits themselves only doing so much to protect them from such concussive force. 

Jazz’s face was swollen, one of his eyes almost swollen shut. 

Breakdown had a gash across his jaw but otherwise seems fine. 

Sideswipe had clearly been crying but most of his face was covered, visor and oxygen mask hiding all but his red eyes from view. 

Sunstreaker had a black eye forming and it looked like his nose might be broken or it had at least bled a lot. 

Then he was able to see himself on a separate monitor, sure everything hurt but he hadn’t thought it was that bad.

He had busted open his lip and knocked out one of his teeth somehow, a bruise was forming across the side of his face and there was a trickle of blood coming from under his helmet. 

They all looked at each other and first there was a smile, then someone covered their mouth to hide the slight giggle, then they were all laughing. None of them could stop even as tears sprung to their eyes, gasping painfully. Waving his hand, Hound cleared his throat, “Alright, alright, we look and feel like shit but right now we need to bring the Quints to us.” He gestures lightly towards the sky.

Nodding a bit, Breakdown sighs, “Well, I can get them down but I think my suit’s head will come off with it.” With a hum, Hound looks up, “We don’t have much other choice, your head is reattachable but the city is not.” He moved over to Breakdown though, “But you don’t have to do it,” Shrugging, Breakdown looked up, “Yeah, but Iacon is our home now.” And that was enough. 

Shifting, Hound looks around, “Alright then, get to positions that will work while Breakdown brings them down. Brace for any impact then we’re going to move in, do what we do best.” Sunstreaker ran towards the edge of the rubble, sliding over a sheet of metal. Hound took a slow breath and moved back towards where He’d du Mirage up.

Sitting on the edge, he assembles his rifle and gets down as Jazz and Sideswipe move to the other side of the rubble. Carefully, Breakdown braces his feet against the rubble as his cannon hums to life.

”Arcturus, get ready and brace.” Hound’s voice went level, “You know, each time you say that it really warms my heart.” Jazz smirked a bit and Hound rolled his eyes, “Arcturus would not even exist without you pal, now focus up.” 

Breakdown’s canon was painfully loud, booming so loud it broke windows in the nearby buildings. The ship above shuddered once and started to fall.

Sideswipe stares, “What the fuck.” Nodding a bit, Hound sighs and lines up his sights, “Yeah, this is going to hurt.” When the bay door opened, he started firing.

—

The underlayers were rarely used now, other than for shelter when there were attacks near to the city. They weren’t alone down there, multiple nearby residential buildings having evacuated but they took over one of the older abandoned storefronts. 

Most of the rest of the crowd were in the designated and refurbished evacuation areas, well stocked and well lit, but going to one of those would require them to be cleared and guards which he didn’t have. The Prime could go most places with one guard and the Lord Protector, considering the state of both for the moment where they were at would have to do. 

He couldn’t help but pace, even with his dented and scraped armor, leaving the humans up on the surface by themselves was selfish. But he couldn’t leave his side, not now. Optics flicking over quickly, Optimus anxiously picked at his servos. 

Megatron was still unconscious, there being more than dents in his plating, a metal pole through his chassis that they hadn’t seen till he was laid out on the floor of all places. It made his spark ache sharply, even as Knockout worked on him, maintaining his stasis. 

Turning, he nearly jumped as Bluestreak set Sunstreaker’s arm down on the floor. The bracer glinted in the light for a moment and he watched Blue bow his helm, functioning optic dimming for the moment. Looking around, his spark spun and clenched painfully, it was the subtle things he noticed first.

The way Prowl was working, but with every noise from the surface his optics would flick as if checking his comm. Knockout whose helm was bent to the work but the light touches of blue paint on his servos and arms showed the connection enough. Even Mirage was jittery, though still out of it, he was staring up at the ceiling as if he was trying to see through it.

Their connections to those on the surface were stronger than he thought., romantic interests or not, he could feel it in the space. Through their fields the love and anxiety whipped around like the wind off the rust sea. 

Optimus moved slowly back over to Knockout and Megatron, lowering himself to the ground carefully. Turning his attention back to Megatron, he carefully brushed his digits over the mechs faceplates, never having wanted more in than in this moment to see his optics light up.  

But he could be patient, only in cases such as this, but still, patient. 

The ground above them shook with the first concussive fires of guns and cannons and Optimus let out a shaky vent, bowing his head and offlining his optics to pray. He wasn’t sure at this moment, for the first time in eons, if he was praying to Primus or whatever god the humans seemed to believe in. 

As the ground above continued to shake, he continued to pray, resting his services lightly on Megatron’s shoulders. Desperate for the connection they’d been depriving themselves of for these months. 

—

It took only a moment for them to light up the sky, turning on sound suppression, as Breakdown’s cannon went off and Hound’s rifle racked quickly before joining in the cacophony of noise. He tried hard not to wince, even as the ship above them listed and Quintessons started to come out.

These ones were bigger, why were they bigger then they normally were, “Fuck!” Sideswipe was moving back towards Sunstreaker, the pair taking each others backs with a practice that most other pilots wouldn’t know.

Hound’s throat tightened painfully, it took him a moment to close his eyes so he could strap on his oxygen mask, “I’d recommend we all wear our oxygen masks for this, I think we’ll need it.” He glances over to where they all were on screen, more in the corner of his vision than the actual screens. 

Each scrambled to do so, “How are we supposed to fight them when their way up there?” Sunny was staring up at the sky, eyes wide. With a hum, Breakdown shakes his head, “They’ll come down, don’t fret, just wait.” His cannon was painfully loud. 

It was through his scope, Hound watched as the ships engines spluttered and it slowly started to come down, Quints bailing out, “Twins, this is on you.” Both strange up as the first Quintessons came down. Hovering menacingly, Sideswipe moved first, bracers up and nearly glowing.

Sunstreaker took his back, arm up though shaking lightly, it wouldn’t be easy for him with just one, “Jazz, join them if you can.” Hound was still aiming at the sky, trying to take down some of them before they could reach the ground while Breakdown blew apart their ship to prevent the worst of the debris. 

They’d never got to fight like this back on Earth, but those first six months had given them just enough practice as a team for moments like these.

The moments they had been split up to avoid, or really, spirit up to survive until.

Jazz slid in next to Sideswipe with ease and when the Quint’s drew close, they sprung. It was almost beautiful, the way they were able to dispatch them, then chaos erupted. 

Disconnecting the rifle barrel from his gun, Hound joined the fray, keeping a close eye on Sunstreaker though he was holding his own very well all things considered. One armed army.

For the first several minutes, their comms were near silent, Breakdown’s cannon booming, Hound’s gun humming, and the ragged breaths of the strikers made it Eire.

”How do you think they got so close to Iacon?” Sunstreaker’s voice was already strangled, breathing heavily with effort, and Hound shrugs as his gun comes around on the next target, “I don’t know, we’ve seen them in other cities though.” He could still remember the times they’d been in Tarn and Kaon. 

Gasping for breath, Sideswipe shakes his head a bit, bringing his bracers down on a smaller more normal sized Quint as it shrieked, “We’ve seen a bunch in North Iacon, it’s possible they snuck past the guards.” Breakdown hums, “But not with such a large ship,” They all winced as it crashed into a nearby building, alarms starting to blare in the distance. 

With a glance that way, Hound looks around, “Jazz, Sunstreaker!” They barely spared a glance at each other before running that way, “Please let that area have been evacuated.” He couldn’t focus on that now, “Keep me updated on the situation.” Jazz glances back and nods, “Yeah!” Taking a moment to breathe, Hound adjusts the hold on his gun.

His implants itched and burned, so closing his eyes again, he checked over his connection as quickly as he could and ran through his coding with a flick of a switch. That brought everything back into hyper-focus. 

—

Time felt like it was dragging on, especially being underground, it had never been his favorite place to be and exactly why they tried to limit those who had to live down here. Choosing to live in the underlayer was very different then having to work.

He was still sat just above Megatron, waiting with the patience of a saint as Knockout worked. Wiping at his brow, Knockout sighs, “He’s coming too, be careful.” Just as Megatron’s optics online again, dim in color, and it tugged at Optimus’s spark. Groaning, Megatron attempts to sit up and Optimus gently pushes at his shoulder to make sure he stays laying down.

”Easy, it has been millenia since you’ve had a building collapse on you.” That brought a slight smile to his face, “Ah, the organic plant in the system with the binary dwarf stars.” Optimus smiled, brushing his digits over Megatron’s faceplates, “I’m glad that I’m not the only one who remembers.” Megatron’s face scrunched up slightly, “I threw us into that building, it was stupid.” Optimus chuckles.

He continues to brush his digits carefully over Megatron, “I should consider dropping more buildings on you, it seems to loosen your tongue.” Rolling his optics, Megatron grunts, but reaches up and takes Optimus’s hand, “I wish it wouldn’t require such drastic measures.” He vented slowly.

Glancing at where Knockout was working, Optimus worried his derma, Megatron squeezed his servos carefully, even behind his battle mask Megatron could tell when Optimus worried. More than their bond, simply a lifetime of knowing each other. 

“Your fretting,” Optimus chuckled weakly, “Sometimes I worry that you may run on anxiety instead of energon.” His weak chuckle turned into a laugh that brought a smile to Megatron’s pained face, “I used to think that this was an act, your worry and intense anxiety, I suppose it’s my own life sentence that it’s real.” 

Shaking his helm Optimus vents slowly, “Given instead of talking about our feelings, you started a war without me, I think it’s allowed.” Knockout winces and Megatron vents out slowly, bringing energon to his derma and Optimus watches him suppress a cough. 

Taking a deep in-vent, Megatron squeezes Optimus’s servos again, “I no longer wish to fight with you, not in my current state.” They stared at each other, “I still believe that I am owed an apology by my protector. Just so you are aware.” Megatron hummed, “Have I ever mentioned how glorious the shine of your optics are?” And Optimus laughed hard, smiling bright as his battle mask slid aside.

Brushing his digits back over Megatron’s face, “I believe you have, most often in moments like this. Instead of ‘I’m sorry My Prime’ you often remark on some aspect of my appearance.” Rolling his optics, Megatron cracks a smile, “Do you expect anything else from me, my dear?” Shaking his head slowly, Optimus pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Of course not, but I do want an actual apology when you are healed, less you desire to remain in your amica’s hab.” The pain on Megatron’s face was more than just from the damage to his frame. 

“I mean no offense to Soundwave, but it is painful enough to have his wards in my unit, to remain in their hab has been torture.” Optimus chuckled, “I take it you mean specific twins? More than Ravage or Ratbat.” Megatron grunts, “I think you will find it surprising to hear that Lazerbeak is difficult to room with, then again it was less torturous when there were other things to focus on.” Optimus hummed.

They stared at each other for a long moment, “However, I can recognize when I have spoken in error. Much of what I said was uncalled for, I’m sorry for insinuating that you did not care and that you were anything like your abusive predecessors.” Optimus swore his spark hummed and he smiled, “Now that wasn't so hard, was it?” Megatron grumbled, “You know just as well as I that it reminds one of swallowing rust sticks whole.” 

Megatron shifted and winced, Knockout smacked his leg, “Do not move, it will hurt more if you do and I lack proper equipment.” Grunting, Megatron sighed and looked back to Optimus. He looked tired.

”Optimus, where are the humans?” His voice was still weak, still pained and Optimus glanced at Knockout, who nodded and adjusted his connection. Megatron’s optics cycled wide for a moment before dimming, “Damn you.” Being careful, Optimus holds Megatron’s face in his servos, “I’m here, just rest.” Placing a careful kiss on his fore-helm. 

Megatron’s hand came up and grasped his wrist, venting with a shudder, “Alright.” Smiling sadly, Optimus keeps hold until Megatron is back in stasis. Knockout giving him a nod and Optimus moved back, letting Knockout return to his work.

Sitting back against the ancient wall, he shuttered his optics for a moment, they were hiding down here while the humans could be up on the surface dying for them. Someone settled down next to him, so onlining his optics, Optimus stared at Mirage for a long moment.

”Hound saved my life, again.” Smiling softly, Optimus nods and rests an arm around Mirage’s shoulders, “Because he cares, cares deeply.” Humming, Mirage offlined his optics, “Yeah, he’s great.” It hurt, having to suppress his laughter, suppressing the wince after too. 

These humans had burrowed their way into his best bots sparks and he was still unsure as to be thankful or fearful.

—

Hound collided with a Quintesson, it felt absurdly huge compared to what they were used to. These couldn’t be the scouts they were used to fighting, they were even bigger than the ones in the attack on New Kaon. 

“How is your suit holding up Breakdown?” He grunted as tentacles pulled at his already loose plating, “It’s hold up, thank you Hound.” He nodded as Sideswipe moves in and cuts apart the limbs that were trying to wrap around his suit, swinging back around Hound dug the barrel of his gun in and fired.

They were splattered in green, nearly completely desensitized to it now, Hound just grunted and dug in to finish the job. 

Sideswipe went to the next in line, trying to keep them from wandering towards the streets or worse central Iacon. 

He was breathing heavy, trying to keep his gun from overheating and pushing himself to far. This was worse than their typical battles down, at the edge of cities or on uninhabited planets, this was at their bar in Iacon. 

This chunk of land was theirs, their connection to home and he was filled with a renewed hate. Firing at an approaching Quint, “We have to keep them from flooding the streets. Jazz, Sunstreaker, how's the crash site look?” There was a distinct sound of someone tearing through a Quintesson.

The shriek and popping sound were one that they all knew well, “We’ve got it mostly contained for the moment, once your areas clear though we’d appreciate the help!” Jazz was working hard and Hound had nothing but respect for that, “We’ll be there as soon as we can be.” Moving over quickly, he slams into a Quint nearing Breakdown’s back.

“Just might be a minute.” Panting, Jazz nods in the edge of his view, “We’re not going anywhere.” Nodding back, Hound focuses on the aliens in front of him. Falling into a comfortable silence, the typical callbacks of battle.

It’s always in the moments of quiet that people feel the need to speak up.

“I think I called Elita mom by accident.” Banter was good, but that seriously caught him off guard, “What?” Sideswipe sighs, even as his bracers cut through a particularly thick Quint, splattering him in it’s gore, “I was freaking the fuck out, alright? Overuse is a bitch we all have it live with.” Most of them chuckled at that, though grunting with effort just after.

Throwing a look over his shoulder, Hound frowned. Sure, they all dealt with the flashbacks and hallucinations of overuse, they’d spoken on it but to be reminded of that in this scene. He glanced down at the rubble under his feet, then back at Sideswipe even as he fired on the Quintesson approaching Breakdown.

Their parents had died when their apartment building collapsed, Sideswipe hadn’t been there when it happened but Sunstreaker had. He sighed slowly, “You alright now Sideswipe?” There was a pause, “As good as I will be.” Nodding a bit, Hound pings Sunstreaker with a reminder for later.

He throws himself into the work, trying to bring the Quints to them and keep them in this area, their bar was their Alimo. 

The screeching of jet engines brought his eyes up, staring for a second as blaster rained down on the Quints around them, “Hell yeah!” Sideswipe pumps his fist, even as he brings his other arm down on two tentacles trying to wrap around him.

Breakdown watched before looking at Hound, “I’m going to go assist Sunstreaker and Jazz.” Nodding, Hound pats his shoulder, “Hurry.” With a stiff nod, Breakdown took off, his cannon lowering to a low hum.

Hound turned back at the scene around him, the break in the fight enough for a moment to breathe and watch the seekers fly in, likely from Vos based on their direction. He watched them for a moment before bringing his gun back up to lay into the Quints near himself.

Now it was just Sideswipe and himself, with some air support at the very least.

Glancing back up, he couldn’t help it. 

Waving up, he was grinning as the seekers rushed across the sky, six. It was only two trines but it was better than nothing as they started to lay into the enemy from above. Hound was still grinning when he watched a stray bolt streak towards him, everything seemed to move in slow motion then.

Cutting his lines was instinct, but he didn’t have time to sever the connection at the arm so it would fall before being hit. Instead, it severed at the shoulder as he attempted to dive out of the way. Instantly going numb, damn hunter coding, he rolled for a moment before coming back to his knees. 

He stared at his arm in the rubble for a long moment, “What the hell, hey!” He looks towards the seekers and flips them off with remaining hand, “Watch where you’re firing! We can be hurt by your fire!” Grumbling, he got back to his feet and turned towards the enemy.

”One armed ass kicking contest it is then.” Sunstreaker seemed to smile in the corner of his vision, “Oh, Knockout is going to love us tonight!” Chuckling darkly, Hound shrugs, “Only if he catches us.” Sunny laughed before shouting something unintelligible.

This fight was just starting, they were dealing with the stragglers. Sunny, Jazz, and now Breakdown were derailing with the infestation.

———

A/N

Yes, the few nights Megatron has spent in Iacon while him and Optimus were arguing, he slept at Soundwave’s. If you can really call that sleep.

Also the Seeker that shot off Hound’s arm was Skywarp, sorry.

So, yeah, part 40. 30 more parts that I ever imagine for Arcturus One. Crazy scenes.

The next ten parts are going to be WILD.

TAGS

@lunarlei68 @whirlywhirlygig @loop-hole-319 @pixillandjester @alek-the-witch @not-a-moose-in-disguise @goddessofwind8water @neurologicalglitch @dersereblogger @pixel-transformers @mrcrayonofdoom @wireplaces @twilightfreefaller @original-blog-name-2 @devilangel657 @robbin-u @miniartistme @starwold @tea-enthusiasm @valeexpris606 @celticdoggo @bird599 @agentsquirrelsgotrobots @aquaioart @thatwandercat @artdagz @seisha974 @halenhusky309 @leethepiper @cat-cassette @sirassban @cosmique-oddity @garbageenthusiast @xervias @azulabutterfly @fryseem @spring-mc @echo-circuit @aghostsnail @wooblewooble @ask-glory-haddock-and-others @nonsscrapheap @magichats @iminahole247 @omgflyingderpywhale @thetrexartist @naaaafam @elegantmantaray @emichusai @waterlilykitty @diabolichare @ham4ponyo @osqindaxend @sunnyvibesanddoodles @ratatatata248 @ijustneedausernaneplease4444444 @sprook-children @fooolisher 

And once again thank you to @Keferon for this amazing AU