#just stuff from fallout 1 2 3 and 4

[charliesinfern0]

BENREY HI . 😍😳🎁🎶 for your courier and yes man !!! hoping your time to decompress has been working out for you and that this week treats you well :)

Self Ship Ask Game

ANON HI!!! my week has been... well it's been a week. ty for the kind words though! im hoping it will get better :)

😍 - When or how did you realize you fell in love with your f/o? How or when did your f/o realize they fell in love with you?

It was when Yes Man had invited Courier to the top of the ridge overlooking New Vegas, shining like a desert jewel in the middle of the Mojave Wasteland. While he talked excitedly about how the strip was now powered independently from the dam, Courier felt... a lot more confident about their future, like they actually had a future to look forward to. They honestly didn't know what to do with themself after they killed Benny, and after they met Yes man and came up with a plan to take over Vegas, they still felt unsure. They were literally just a mailman a few months ago, and now it felt like some crazy pipe dream they never knew they had was coming true. They shared their excitement with Yes Man, enraptured by the lights, feeling the warmth radiate off of Yes Man's metal body... Yeah, they could get used to this, having a future with Yes Man....

And thats when they finally realized what they had gotten themself into.

And that's also when Yes Man suddenly became very distracted by the Courier's eyes! Wow, he knows they came here to look at the lights of New Vegas, but their eyes were even brighter and shinier, he could even see his screen reflected in them. But it'd be weird to tell them that, wouldn't it? It would be redundant, they probably already know how pretty their eyes look, they look in they mirror every morning! And he wouldn't want to put a damper on their excitement by being weird. Yeah, it'd just be weird....

They should probably head back to the Lucky 38. There's a lot more they have to do before the battle at the dam.

It wouldn't be until after his assertiveness update, when he finally reunited with Courier, that he finally realized what he was feeling all those times when the Courier made a dumb joke or acted like a dork, when they gave him a reassuring pat on his chassis or held his hand, when they smiled up at him and said his name...

He'd fallen for them, every single time.

😳 - How does your f/o fluster you? How do you fluster your f/o?

Yes Man flusters the Courier just by complimenting them! They can’t take a compliment to save their life lol. He first noticed this when they had gotten back from the Ultra Luxe, clad in a fancy white dress they used as a disguise to go undercover. Naturally he complimented them, I mean, who wouldn’t? It was very clever of them to disguise themself to take care of the White Glove Society from the inside, and it helped that they looked absolutely gorgeous in that dress! But the Courier just… stopped in their tracks, and then stumbled out a thank you. Any praise he gave them was met with a bashful response. He thought it was… very endearing! He kept it professional though, only relating to their handiwork around the Strip and the Mojave. He… didn’t want to say too much. After his assertiveness update though, he realized just how obvious it was that he liked them, and also noticed how clueless Courier was to that fact. So, after they finally confessed to one another, the compliments (and the teasing!) came out in full force. They were adorable when they smiled, when they were confused, when they were irritated, and he made sure to let them know.

Courier flusters Yes Man by just… being so earnest. They really do value him as a partner, and it would just make sense to let him know how much they appreciate them. He also gets really flustered when Courier touches him, like when they hold his hand or lightly touch his screen or make small repairs, because they’re always so gentle and reassuring. 

Though, before his update he didn’t really come off as flustered? Whenever they praised or complimented him or smiled at him, he would just… pause for a good few seconds before responding, like he had to take a while to think of what he wanted to say next. Of course, Courier didn’t know that they could even fluster Yes Man because of his programming, and they didn’t think they were capable of catching anybody’s attention like that. They were completely clueless up until Yes Man explicitly said that he liked them when they reunited after the battle at the dam. After his update, it was a lot more apparent that he was flustered, because he would pause and then fumble over his words, and he could actually change his expression to something that looked something like embarrassment, and Courier had noticed that his screen would flicker and internal mechanisms would heat up more (something that had happened before, but Courier thought it was just minor malfunctions. Upon realizing just how obvious it was that Yes Man had indeed liked them back for all that time, they just laughed and succumbed to his teasing, happy that he still loved them even if they were an idiot).

😚 - What was your first kiss like?

I already answered the gift giving question here, so I thought I'd answer this question instead, I hope thats ok >//<

But ummm... I think it would be when they confessed to each other, after they each reassured the other that yes, they did like them back ("..." "......" "....You like me?" "I... yes? I mean- Yes! I'm sorry, I didn't mean for that to come out as a question, it's just that your lack of response had me thinking that maybe this wasn't such a good idea-" *Courier grabs his hand* "I like to too!" "You... like me too?" "Yes!!")

They would both just be so giddy in the moment, Courier would just ask "Can I kiss you?" and Yes Man would respond enthusiastically "Please!", and then Courier would plant a kiss right on his screen, and he'd hug them closer, his body getting warmer and his internal fans getting louder. Courier would chuckle when they pull away and see Yes Man's lovestruck look on his face, along with the smudge they had made on his screen.

🎶 - What song/lyrics remind you of your f/o?

This song makes me think of Yes Man so much T_T When I first heard it in the game I was like oh.... where has he been all my life?

But um I like to imagine a scene where it's late at night and Courier is sitting at the VIP lounge in the Lucky 38 and they have the radio on and Yes Man joins them and then Courier asks him to dance with them. They go to the middle of the casino and just sway to the music, and Courier is a little tipsy so they just lean against Yes Man, and he's looking at them and just taking in how amazing they look right now, and he hugs them close, and just like..... the lyrics of the song, its the lyrics of the song!!! it's like a dream to him and he hopes he never wakes up, and he's so happy that Courier is in his life now, and it feels like it's just beginning, and he wants to spend it all with them!!!!!!

I also have to put I Don't Want to Set the World on Fire here, because like!!! I just love this song, and the first time I heard it was actually in the official Fallout Minecraft map that I played when I was younger and had no idea what Fallout was, and it became on of my favorite songs, and then yknow I'm into Fallout now, so it came full circle! ^_^ Anyway, i think this song is like from the Courier's perspective, they just love Yes Man and want to be with him and yeah <3

[dcandmarvelimagines]

sweeter than you ever knew. (pt 4)

Series: pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4 pt 5 Pairing: Wade Wilson x Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 7.9k (yikes omg)Warnings: AFAB reader (uses she/her pronouns), 1st person POV, non-mutant Reader, fluffy and softness, Logan gives you a bath and also makes food, Wade is so gentle and cute, lots of kissing!!, descriptions of bruises, mildly horny? Author's note: Hi lovelies!! Take some intense fluff and softness! I maybe made Wade a little too serious in a spot but I just needed it, we all needed it after how intense that last chapter was <3 This is also an eternity long omg, but the comfort took me over, mind and soul. Next chapter is the last one :’( it makes me so sad to think that this will be over soon. But it’s going to be THE chapter. All the sexual tension is finally going to be resolved. ao3 Tags (if you would like to be included or removed, just let me know. If I forgot someone I'm so sorry!!): @fallout-girl219 @xolosimp @o0aligoth0o @thedevilsaysthings @jaeyuni @redmitsuru5 @jeffs77 @spideybv28 @trumanbluee @jennapearce13 @chxrrybomb22 @7soulstars @what-the-jams @lostinheavensworld @purplestars222 @movieat @whiskeyghoul @paintballkid711 @unmotivated-artist164 @sun7lowxr @minniekitties @ceobuggy @amararosesblog @harryshousewhore @bontensbabygirl @belgium2 @g0ldenstarr @wolvndmouth @sseleniaa @reddesires

The next hours passed in a haze. A group of men in large cars picked us up. No flashing lights pierced through my closed eyelids, so I didn’t think they were police. Logan kept me in his arms, growls rumbling through his chest whenever someone came closer. At some point my numb hands pushed his mask away. I just want to see him, see the comforting lines of his face, finally be able to read his expression. But my brain was sluggish, unable to make sense of him as he blinked up at me. Instead, I nuzzled my face into his cheek, smearing blood on his skin, eyes drooping closed. 

 Then I was in a bright room and a woman was talking to me. She was wearing a lab coat but I didn’t seem to be in a hospital. Logan and Wade weren’t in the room with me. She told me she was a mutant that would be able to heal me, but not completely, that I would still be stiff and my wound would turn to a horrible bruise. I just gave weak acknowledgements to all her questions. I barely felt the discomfort of my skin and muscles knitting themselves back together. Her touch was gentle as she wiped away the gore from my face and hair, the same healing ability applied to my busted lip and aching cheeks. She handed me a bottle of painkillers, telling me I would need to rest for at least a week. I was grateful that she also gave me a pair of thin pants and slip-on shoes. She helped me hobble to the door and out into a bare hallway. That’s where I found a mask less Wade, bouncing his legs in a chair that seemed near breaking point, and Logan pacing, his hair messy from running his fingers through it. They both sprung toward me and I collapsed into Logan’s awaiting arms. Wade kissed my temple as his hand caressed down my back. The woman explained my situation to them before she disappeared again. 

“We’re going to stay over, at least tonight, okay sugar muffin?” 

“Can you stay longer?” The idea of being alone, especially in my apartment, made my head scream in resistance. My hands scrambled against Logan’s costume, trying to cling to him, to make sure he stayed right here next to me. 

“Of course sweetheart,” Logan murmured, “we can stay as long as you need us to.” His beard scrubbed at my forehead as he drew me close. 

“I’ll go back to the apartment and grab our stuff then.” Wade parted with one last peck at my cheek. Logan let me rest my head against him for a long moment. The fact that I was alive, that I had survived everything hadn’t settled in quiet yet. But I knew it was only a matter of time before I broke down. Maybe Logan knew it as acutely as I did because he lifted me into his arms once again. My consciousness blinked in and out. We were in a car that smelled of cleaner. We passed by the bright skyscrapers. Then I was being jostled once more as Logan stepped out of the car. He placed me on my feet before crouching down in front of me. I didn’t ask for an explanation and just climbed onto his back, arms and legs latched around him. He climbed the steps to my fourth floor apartment. 

“I’m sorry I ruined your shirt,” I whispered, lips next to his ear. His hand squeezed my uninjured thigh. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. I have plenty more that you can have.” By the time we exited the dingy stairwell, dawn was peaking through the hallways windows. Wade had clearly told him my apartment number, or I had in my pain induced delirium, because he found my door easily. I glanced down. 

“I guess my pizza actually was delivered. Probably bad now though.” I would have thought after two weeks it would have been taken away or would have started to smell. Odd. Logan jiggled my door open and brought us inside, catching the pizza box with his foot and bringing that in as well. My body felt lethargic as I let go of Logan. My healing leg felt far stronger than before, only minor tremors in the muscle. He was drifting through my kitchen, filling a glass with cool water from my fridge, grabbing snacks from my cabinet. “Can we take a bath?” He studied me, worry etched onto his lined face. “I don’t think I have the energy to do it myself.” 

“Drink this,” he tapped the glass, “and eat this first,” he pushed a small packet of crackers toward me. I did as he asked but didn’t sit. If I did, I doubted I would get back up again. He watched me closely, like I had any reason to hide from him. Once the glass was empty and the crackers gone, I trudged to my bathroom. My leg was tense and hard to move. The doctor had done a good job healing my face, leaving me only with two twin bruises on my cheeks. They were already in the yellow stage of bruising and would be gone within a few days. I stood in the familiar space for a moment. Something soothed in my soul at the sight of my towels, the new ones that were like a cloud. I felt back to myself, if only a bit. 

While I waited for Logan to join me, I brushed my teeth. Twice. Then I raked a comb through my knotted hair. I started the bath, not caring about my neighbors and the early hour. When I turned, I found Logan in the doorway, naked. The small horny part of my brain shouted at the rest of it to take in every inch of his sculpted body. But I just didn’t have the energy. “Sorry,” he huffed, sounding a little self conscious. “The suits are hard to get out of without looking stupid.” 

“Hopefully you can help me out of these,” I plucked at my shirt, “without making me look too stupid.” Fine, a small win for horny brain. He approached me in tentative steps, like I was about to attack him or scream. “Logan, I’m not scared of you.” His face relaxed, if only slightly, but he didn’t seem reassured. 

His hands were gentle as he lifted the filthy shirt off me. The calluses whispered across my hips as he reached for my pants, thumbs hooked through my panties, and let them pool around my feet. I braced myself on his shoulders so I could remove my shoes. Logan’s eyes drank my body in before he closed them and shook his head once. “Not the right time,” he grumbled to himself. He stalked to the tub, sitting himself on the lip, before testing the waters with one thick finger. It was seemingly up to his standards and he shut the water off. He collected a washcloth, soap, shampoo, and conditioner before he lowered himself into the hot water. A little groan escaped his throat, neck bared as it fell back. There was a firm muscle in his jaw that relaxed as he sunk into the hot water.  Steam filled the bathroom, the mirror foggy. It made him look like something from the cover of a romance novel, too handsome and otherworldly to be real. He propped one wet arm up on the edge of the tub and I followed a drop of water as it traced down a vein. “You just gonna stand there and stare, princess?” 

I shrugged. “Nice to stare at.” I climbed into the tub, settling between his spread legs, melting into his comforting body. I watched as the blood coating my legs and torso swirled into the clear water, tinting it pink. We didn’t speak for several long minutes, the plunk of the dripping faucet the only sound echoing in the room. My thigh ached but the tight muscle started to loosen the longer I soaked. I absently rubbed at it, hoping to work the last of the soreness out, but only managed a wince of pain. His hair tickled my ear as he leaned closer. 

“Hurt?” I shook my head. His fingers outlined the injury, touch feather light. 

“If it means you keep touching me, then yes.” His chin notched itself between my shoulder and neck. But he kept up his soft touches, his other thick arm curled loosely around my stomach. It seemed like he was intending to let silence fall again. “Why the new nickname?” The question popped out just to give him a reason to keep talking. 

“Wade has a new one every time he talks to you, thought I would try. I thought sweetheart would be dull by now. Don’t like it?” 

“I didn’t say that,” I teased, wet fingers running through his hair. “I figured you would be very old fashioned with your pet names.” I felt his chest rumble with a restrained chuckle. His chest hair tickled at my back. We lapsed into silence again. As it stretched, my mind started to wonder. 

The man’s brain splattering across my face. 

The crack of the wood seat as the knife drove in deeper. 

The creeping numbness in my feet. 

The sight of a man walking through my bedroom door. 

“Hey,” Logan whispered against my ear, “come back to me.” I shuddered and clutched at his arm, wrapping it tighter around me, nails digging into his flesh. “You’re okay. Take a deep breath for me. Good job,” his big hand rested on my chest, right over my heart. “Deep breath again, okay?” I did as he said. His hand pushed down against me in a comforting press as I breathed out. I took five more inhales before he removed his hand. “You’re safe, sweetheart.” 

“I know,” I said, trying to reassure myself. I knew I was. I trusted Logan and Wade with my life. But I felt a confusing mix of vulnerability and numbness. I wanted to cry, to break down at the injustices done upon me. I also wanted to retreat into myself and become nothing but a husk of my former self. Logan gave me a light kiss on the cheek. 

“Time to clean you up I think.” I nodded. He was, as always, gentle. He used a plastic cup to spill water down my hair, hand braced along my forehead to stop any from falling into my eyes. He shampooed my hair three times, trying to get every bit of blood out. His fingers massaged into my scalp and I let out satisfied sighs at the feeling. 

“You’re good at this.” The last of the shampoo was washed away, sending a cascade of soap down my spine. He pumped a generous amount of conditioner into his hand before spreading it along the ends of my hair. He worked diligently through the knots, never tugging or ripping. 

“I’ve had a lot of…” his voice trailed off, seeming uncertain. 

“Girlfriends?” 

“I was going to say practice.” My lips twitched. “Lean forward.” I drew my knees up and rested my head on them. I heard the squirt of soap a moment before the washcloth touched my back. He rubbed in smooth circles, just the right of pressure applied. Eventually his hand curved over my shoulder and I sunk back against him. He was thorough, scrubbing spots I often passed over quickly. The hollow of my throat, the ditch of my elbows, between each of my fingers, behind my ears. Something hard nudged against my back. I pushed experimentally back against him. He let out a hiss and stilled my hips with a single hand. “No. Not now, just relax.” 

“That usually does help me relax.” His hand disappeared under the cloudy water to scrub at my legs. I sat up suddenly and spun, a small wave of water spilling out of the side of the tub. My legs braced themselves on either side of his hips and my hands landed on his shoulders. I caught his hazel eyes flashing down to my breasts where they squished against his chest, before he looked back up at me. “You’re so handsome,” I purred, fingers mapping lines of his face. 

“Hey,” his tone was commanding, but not mean, as his hands latched around my wrists. I tried to catch his lips but he was able to avoid me. 

“Distract me,” I plead. 

“Not like that.” I struggled a moment longer and then I deflated. My forehead fell, landing against his, eyes shut tight. Self consciousness and shame bit at me. 

“I’m sorry. I don’t…I just don’t want to think about it anymore.” 

“Don’t have to apologize, princess.” He brushed my damp hair off my shoulders, hand trailing up my pulse point, before rubbing along my cheekbone. “Let’s get you in bed. I know all your emotions are keeping you up, but you’ll crash soon. You don’t have to worry about anything else until you’re ready.” I groaned.

“Shit, I have to call work. That’s assuming I’m not fired for being gone for weeks.” His thumb stopped. He drew back, pinching my chin, forcing our eyes to lock. 

“Weeks?” 

“Yeah,” I mumbled, looking at him with confusion. “Well maybe more, I was trying to count by the sun.” I pointed at the ceiling to convey the sunroof. He blinked, brows knitted together. “What?” 

“You were only gone for about half a day. Wade started panicking when you didn’t text him that you made it home.” My mind spun. “We would’ve never let you be taken that long.” 

“So, what, it was some illusion?” The water had grown tepid. My thumb nail broke easily when I began biting it after it’s prolonged soak. The fact I could track my days was one of my saving graces. It kept my mind anchored to reality as I sat, bleeding out. But it was all a lie. Why? Logan tugged at my wrist, taking the nail away from me, giving the abused finger a kiss. 

“That woman,” Logan hummed, voice slow as he thought. “She was a mutant. I think she could fuck with time or make us feel like she did. Wade said it felt weird right before he killed her, like he was moving too slow.” That would explain all the odd inconsistencies. The woman standing outside the door for weeks. Bleeding out for days without dying. Never feeling hungry or needing to use the bathroom. 

“Why? Why would they do that to…ah.” 

“What?” He was back to watching me like I was half feral, like I would attack him. It was a heartbreaking combination of weariness and open affection. 

“The man told me that,” my voice stuttered. His touch was light as it moved down my back, disappearing under the water to my waist. “He said that you guys wouldn’t-“ I hated that my eyes now decided to sting. That I was breaking at this, about him. 

“Don’t have to say anything sweetheart.” I shook my head, wet hair sticking to my shoulders. I curled my fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, playing with the strands that had curled from the hot water. 

“He said you guys didn’t,” I glanced down, looking at his chest instead, connecting the splatter of moles along his skin. “That you guys didn’t care or want me around anymore. That’s why you were taking so long.”  He growled, the sound reverberating through the water. 

“He’s wrong.” He aimed to reassure, but it was rough around the edges, anger tearing at the corners. It was very Logan. “We want you around as long as you’ll have us.” That mounting anxiety inside me began to dissipate. “Listen,” he squeezed my waist for extra emphasis, “don’t think of that waste of space. He deserved everything that happened to him and more. Everything he ever said to you was a fucking lie.” I nodded and leaned in for a kiss but paused. 

“Just one.” Logan hesitated. “I promise I’ll be gentle.” He grinned and my heart stuttered at the sight. A true Logan grin was like spotting a shooting star, quick and stunning. 

“I remember what your last kiss was like, I’m not sure I’ll survive it again. Having you against me has been enough torture.” Pride made me smile at him. 

“Later then?” He nodded but gave me a quick peck anyways. I didn’t rush after him. 

“Yeah,” he agreed. He cleared his throat. “I promise, I’ll take care of you, do whatever you need, give you anything I can.” My heartbeat stumbled and I blinked back a wave of tears. “I’m sorry I haven’t always been there for you.” His fingers danced along my shoulders. The action felt a little shy, nervous even. But his gaze never left mine. “But I,” his voice died for a moment. He cleared his throat again. “But I don’t want to let you go, not anymore.” I opened my mouth, ready to say he already had me, that I was never going anywhere, but he covered it with his wet hand. “Don’t say anything sweetheart. Just let me help you.” Reluctantly, I nodded. 

He washed the long forgotten conditioner out of my hair before he rose from the bath. I nearly drooled at the sight of his thighs, thick with muscles and covered in a dusting of dark hair. I tried to avoid looking at his dick, it would only rile me up, but I caught a brief sight of it anyways as he stepped from the tub. The tip was a dusky pink and it looked wide. He padded over to my towel rack and grabbed one for each of us. He kept his back, and perfect bubble butt, to me as he dried himself off. While he did, I pulled the stopper from the drain and let the dirty water swirl away. He wrapped the towel around his waist before he turned back to me. 

Logan carefully guided me out of the bath, both hands gripping my arms. Being back on my feet reminded me of the wound on my leg and I grimaced at the tremble that went through it. “Need some of the pills?” I shook my head. I was tempted to look at the injury but my empty stomach lurched at the idea. 

“No,” he squeezed the towel over my wet hair, “the water just felt nice. Gravity is a bitch.” Logan chuckled but still looked worried. When my hair was only slightly damp, he moved to the rest of my body. I let him rub me down, giggling as he found ticklish spots in his thorough work. Occasionally his lips would ghost over where he had just wiped, my knee, my hip, the rib nearest my breast. They were always light and fleeting, but I relished them nonetheless. 

Once I was thoroughly dry, he hung my towel back up. He caught my shoulders before I left the bathroom. “Don’t panic, Wade’s been back for about thirty minutes.” I quirked an eyebrow. 

“And he’s just been sitting there? Without saying anything?” 

“Trust me it’s been hard! Just like me honestly.” Logan sighed, eyes flicking to the ceiling, asking anything that would listen for patience. But I smiled and walked into my short hallway and found Wade sitting on my couch. He was surrounded by an obscene amount of bags. He had changed into a pair of X-Men branded pajama bottoms. When Wade saw me, completely naked, haloed by the dawn light, he made a strangled noise. “Holy fuck, oh my god, shit.” He glanced down at his cock, which was indeed very hard, tenting in a comical way. It gave a noticeable twitch. 

“Calm down bub,” Logan growled, skirting around me to reach Wade and the bags. He glowered down at the other man’s pants. “She’s going to sleep and you,” he punched Wade’s arm for emphasis, “are gonna leave her alone.” Wade whined, head thumping against the back of the couch. Logan opened a bag, fishing out a shirt and boxers, along with a toothbrush. He dropped his towel, not caring that the blinds in the living room were wide open. Both me and Wade tilted our heads, gaze skating over Logan’s exposed body before he covered it with his underwear. He picked the towel up and went to put it back in the bathroom. He handed me the shirt, “don’t get brains on this one.” 

As I took the worn shirt, he turned, but I stopped him with a hand to his cheek. “Thank you.” His hazel eyes nearly glittered in the rising sun’s rays. I gave him a kiss, just on the heavy side of chaste, but not what either of us craved. I drew back first and left him lingering, eyes half closed. I turned on my heel and into my bedroom. As I was picking up a fresh pair of underwear, I spotted Wade coming into my room as well. The faucet in the sink began to run. Exhaustion was finally starting to prickle at me and I yawned so hard my jaw popped. 

“You’re so tired, let me help you.” Wade tugged the underwear from me before falling to his knees. He stared unabashedly at my pussy. I rolled my eyes, smiling despite myself. I was sure to give him a show, stepping into the stretched underwear one leg at a time, spreading myself open more than needed, my hand planted on his head for balance. He was slow to move it up my body, rising into increasingly hunched positions to keep the underwear level with his eyes. He left them down to reveal just a bit of myself to him. He leaned forward, a little point of pink exposed between his lips. 

Logan’s hand clamped around his neck, hoisting him straight, like a mama cat with her misbehaving kitten. “So bad at following directions. Go brush your teeth, asshole.” 

“Yes daddy.” Logan grunted in response. “You sound much scarier all growly like that. Much hotter too.” Wade dodged Logan’s fist as it swung toward him. He scampered away, winking, before the bathroom door shut. 

“Insufferable.” Logan scanned me and I hastily tugged the shirt over my torso. “Good girl, now get into bed.” I blushed but did as he said. Before I collapsed down, I snagged a hair tie and brought my still damp hair up into a haphazard bun. It would be a complete knot when I woke up, whenever that would be, but I just needed it out of my way. Logan climbed after me, the bed frame groaning under his weight. Movement outside my window caught my eyes. It was just a bird fluttering by but a sudden spike of fear rushed through me. There was a clear handprint on the pane of glass. Logan, perhaps hearing my heart rate increase, followed my gaze. “It’s okay,” he mumbled, going to my window to shut the blinds. The room dimmed, the blinds cutting off the bright morning light. “No one will be able to get in here without Wade or me knowing.”  

“I know,” I sighed, curling under my sheets. The bed creaked again as Logan joined me. His arms were like steel rods as they latched around me, drawing me flush against his firm body. He tucked his forehead against the nape of my neck and his breath tickled at the hair dangling there. His breathing was slow and even. My eyes drifted shut, chest synching with his. As if from down a long hallway, I heard Wade make some comment about how cute we looked. Logan’s chest rumbled in response. 

The first thing I felt when consciousness finally reached me was bumpy skin against my nose. I buried my face deeper into Wade’s chest, shifting my stiff legs to feel that ours had tangled together. My thigh twinged at the motion. “Good morning, my lovely sleeping beauty. Never thought you would wake up, thought I would have to do it with true loves fuck.” A sleepy grin tugged at my lips. 

“It’s true loves kiss, Wade,” I croaked, my throat scratchy. I must have been snoring. Cute.

“Not in the movies I watch.” I rolled to my back, stretching my body with a series of cracks and groans. Wade watched me with a hungry glint in his eyes, following Logan’s shirt drifting over my underwear and showing a sliver of stomach. I glanced at the window. With the blinds shut I wasn’t able to tell the time well, but judging by the burnt orange rays leaking through, it was either dusk or dawn. 

“What time is it?” I reached for my phone on its usual spot on my bedside table before I remembered it had been taken with me. It was probably on some long forgotten table or smashed to pieces in a fight. 

“It’s,” his phone flashed, “seven at night.” I scrubbed the lingering sleep from my eyes.

“Where’s Logan?” He wasn’t in the bed and I couldn’t hear any noise from the rest of the apartment. 

“He went to get food. According to him, you don’t eat enough protein.” I shrugged, stretching my hips open, face scrunching at the ache. My hands went to my thigh, kneading at the skin. Wade twisted, kneeling between my spread legs. His pajamas were low, the edges of his hip bones peaking above the waist band. The dim light danced across his stomach and my eyes followed along the ridges of his abs. “You have lotion?” 

“What?” I asked, half laughing, the question taking me off guard. A full giggle bubbled up inside me as his hands coasted along the crease of my thighs, fingertips catching under the elastic of my underwear. 

“Well, I can’t give you a good massage if you aren’t all slippery.” His touch drifted up, pushing farther along my hips, revealing more of my skin to him. “I know you have some, don’t get such buttery smooth skin without it.“ I pointed my thumb to my bedside table. He leaned over me, hips flush with mine, as he rifled through the drawer before he snagged the lotion. My arms snaked around his waist, pressing little kisses to his neck and cheeks. “Logan warned me that you would try to seduce me.” I gave a throaty laugh and it only seemed to rile him up, his hips adjusting between mine. 

“Do you want me to seduce you?” Wade groaned. His nose knocked against mine as he looked at me.

“No need sweetums, your snoring was as much of a turn on as I needed.” I rolled my eyes, pushing his chest back so he was kneeling once again. He grabbed the ankle of my injured leg, bracing my heel against his bare chest. 

“You sure know how to charm a girl.” He smirked and popped open the lid of the lotion with his teeth, squirting a generous amount into his hand, rubbing them together to warm the liquid up. 

“You’re still here aren’t you? Just can’t get enough of me.” I was going to give some sassy retort, but it was cut off by a surprised moan as Wade’s knuckles dug into my calf. The lotion helped his hands glide over my skin, working through knots with pressure that would have been painful without it. He moved in sweeping half circles, squeezing as he went. 

“Shit,” I mumbled, eyes drifting closed. The tips of his fingers worked at the back of my ankle with the last of the lotion. Wade’s hand disappeared before returning to just below my injury, slicked with more lotion. His motions were more controlled, the press lighter, dancing around the bruise. “How bad does it look?” I tried to keep my voice light but there was a faint shake to the words.

“It doesn’t matter how it looks,” Wade responded, fingertips brushing the damaged skin. “How does it feel?” His touch was light and nearly tickled as he doodled idly across it. 

“Doesn’t hurt, just feels numb in that spot. I can feel you touching the skin but it doesn’t feel…connected to me, I guess.” Wade hummed thoughtfully, lifting my heel to be over his shoulder, still damp hands going to the joint of my leg and hip, spreading my leg wider for him to massage. I sighed contentedly. “You’ve been holding out on me,” I teased, “should have made you give me back rubs anytime I saw you.” 

“Just trying to show you all my skills before you let me fuck your brains out.” I opened my heavy eyes to find him smiling softly down at me. I reached out and he met me halfway, resting his cheek on my offered hand. 

“We can add romance to the skill list. Who would have thought.”

“Hey,” Wade nipped my palm, sitting back on his knees. “I can’t do anything nice for Logan without him throwing a fit. So all my hopeless romanticism goes to you.” He lowered my propped up leg carefully before grabbing the other. He added more lotion to his hands. 

“Well I’m honored,” my voice tilted into a moan, back arching as he found a particularly sore spot on my calf. His eyes were glued to my torso, my belly button just peeking out from the bottom of Logan’s shirt, nipples hard enough to point under the fabric. His movement mimicked his work on my other leg, knuckles pushing deep into my tight muscles. He was able to be more thorough with this thigh since he didn’t have a bruise to dodge around. I gasped and moaned, being over dramatic just to see the look on his face. As his hands crept farther up my hips, I spread my legs wider, trying to entice him closer. 

The lotion faded but his touch didn't, fingers going under my shirt. “You’re quiet.” He nodded, middle finger dipping into my belly button and making me laugh. 

“Logan gets like this sometimes.” I cock my head in question. “He gets quiet and will just touch my face. Especially after we get back from jobs. I never really understood it.” He traced up my stomach in soft sweeps, catching the edges of my ribs. “But he’s a grumpy asshole so if I mention he’s doing it, he goes and pouts.” The shirt whispers up my skin as he exposes more of me to him, the bottom curve of my breast visible, and he takes the opportunity to run his thumbs along the sensitive skin. “I get it now though.” I wiggled my hips farther down the bed and Wade drew them higher, resting them on his thighs. “I’m not one to talk about my feelings, and if I do, it’s usually in ways that make people think I’m deranged.” 

“Well you are,” I teased. He pressed feather light kisses to my knees before throwing them over his shoulders. 

“But you love that about me, right?” 

“Ooh, throwing around the big L huh?” Wade grinned. 

“Why shouldn’t I? Life is short.” 

“Mine is, you and Logan will live forever, won’t you?” I reached up, mapping his face. 

“Logan will outlive the sun on pure spite. Who knows for me,” he inched my shirt over my chest, exposing myself completely to him. “I haven’t always been like this. I used to have to worry about my life. It always felt like I saw one wrong step away from dying. I used to be way more reckless.” I raised an eyebrow and he chuckled. He tested the lengths of his healing factor beyond recklessness. “Let’s not point out my flaws while I’m trying to be sweet and open. I at least am guaranteed to live when I do dumb shit now.” I held up my hands in surrender and they moved to his forearms instead. “Even then I didn’t see a point in being guarded and ‘reasonable’. If I loved someone, I loved them.” I swallowed and I knew my cheeks were dusted with pink. “When you were taken, I realized I hadn’t told you. I don’t expect you to say it back but I just want you to know.” He circled my nipples, drawing them to peaks, and a soft sound caught in my chest. “Just think about it, yeah?” 

“I don’t need to,” I mumbled, pushing my chest into his hands. Wade’s mouth opened just as the apartment door was shoved open. My body goes tense for a moment, expecting an intruder, but Wade gave a playful tug on my exposed nipples. 

“Just the old man,” he reassured. I could hear the crinkle of paper bags being placed on my counter, the clink of my keys as he dropped them into my purse, then the light padding of Logan’s feet on the hardwood. 

“I see you’re awake,” Logan said. He strode to where Wade and I were tangled, leaning down to give me a brief kiss, his leather jacket creaking as he did. “You’re a nice sight to come home to.” I preened under the compliment. Wade tugs the shirt back over my chest with an overly jealous huff. 

“Am I not nice to come home to? And where is my loving smooch?” Logan rolls his eyes but gives in, grabbing Wade’s chin with a harsh grip and giving him a rough kiss. But Logan draws back before Wade wants him to and he chuckles at Wade’s pout. “You’re so mean to me.” Logan shakes his head, straightening, his arms crossing. 

“Uh huh. If you excuse me, I’m going to make us dinner since you,” he points an accusing finger at Wade, “would set the place on fire.” Logan, as if he couldn’t help himself, gave me another peck on the forehead. “Do you need anything princess?”

“Well for one, keep Wade out of the kitchen. I don’t have renters insurance.” Logan clicked his tongue, heading back out the bedroom. 

“You need that, especially if you’re keeping us around.” Logan disappeared around the corner. I slid my legs off Wade’s shoulders, sitting up to kiss his nose. 

“I’m going to go out by him, see if he needs any help.”

“Yeah, okay, are you sure you don’t just want to stare at his big bulging muscles?” 

“That’s just a bonus."

Wade signed dramatically. “I suppose I’ll come with you, can’t let him hog all your attention.” 

“I have to go to the bathroom first.” I swung my legs over the edge of the bed but paused. Wade slid off, offering his hands to me. I wanted to refuse, to try and do it myself, but I was afraid of my leg giving out from under me, so I allowed him to help me up. There was a dull throb but no stabs of pain or awful trembles. I appreciated that Wade let me lean on him and walk myself. I felt weak as is. These two men could heal from anything and didn’t seem to feel, or care about, pain and I was nearly debilitated by a thigh wound. 

“Can I come with you?” I walked on my stiff leg into the bathroom, flicking the light on. 

“No Wade, I can pee by myself.” 

“Aw come on, I can hold your hand.” I shook my head, closing the door on him. I took in my appearance reflected back at me in the mirror over my sink. I looked like a mess. There were lines from my pillow pressed into my cheek and my hair was sticking in every direction. I swallowed. 

I knew I needed to look, to get the anxiety out of the way. 

I nearly gagged at the sight of my thigh. The spot, about the size of my spread hand, was deep purple, nearly black. Green and yellow spiderwebbed across the edge. There were broken blood vessels across my entire thigh. I touched it timidly and scrunched my face at the odd numbness. It didn’t hurt to touch, the pain had settled deep into my flesh. The doctor had told me that it would heal from the outside in, so this bruise would be here for a while. The longer I stared, the more I grew to accept it. I had been fucking stabbed and walked away with just this nasty mark. It was the best outcome I could have. I quickly used the toilet and brushed my teeth before exiting to the living room. I found Wade on my couch, tv already switched on, scrolling through my last streaming app. He finally made his decision and I heard the recap of the previous week's Bachelor episode. I had been half way through a rewatch when I was taken. 

“Why am I even surprised you are a fan?” 

“Where else do you think I got my charm and narcissistic tendencies?” 

I found Logan unloading the three overflowing grocery bags into neat groups. There were packages of meat, fresh fruits and vegetables, cookies, and of course, a six pack of beer. 

“No, no, sit down.” He hadn’t even looked up. I ignored him, limping closer. My hands traveled under his jacket, wrapping around his waist, laying my head between his shoulder blades. The leather was soft against my cheek, well worn and well loved. He stilled, one hand encompassing my overlapped wrists. “I don’t need your help.” 

“Perfect,” I hummed, “I wasn’t offering it. Just stand there and let me hug you.” I wanted to crawl under his jacket, to be completely flush with him, to pin him close. A blissful moment passed. 

“Your leg is shaking.” 

“I know.” 

“Then go sit down.” I lightly head butted his back. 

“Stop being bossy.”

“Stop being stubborn.” He turned in my arms, pinning me in place with an exasperated expression. He traced my face with his rough fingers, lingering on the bruises still on my cheek. Then he sighed, resigned. 

“Fine, you can stay over here. But I can’t have you latched on to me like a tumor. Go lean somewhere.” I knew that’s the best I would get. I picked a small section of my counter that would keep me out of Logan’s way. He had clearly inspected my cabinet layout before shopping as he put everything where I would. Eventually he started on dinner: steak, rice, and a salad. Wade was completely enthralled by the Bachelor, shouting dating advice at the tv to try and save the bachelor from his many mistakes. I watched Logan chop vegetables with rapt attention. He had shrugged off his leather jacket, leaving him just in a tight t-shirt. Everytime his hand flexed over the knife or as he grabbed a pan, the prominent veins popped under his skin. I felt like I could watch him for hours. 

He drifted nearer to my perch, grabbing a beer from my fridge. I stuck my foot out to catch his thigh and guide him closer. Once I was able, I hooked my fingers through his belt loops, wedging his body between my spread legs. He took a large gulp of his beer before it clinked against the counter, his hands braced on either side of my hips. I could smell the lingering smoke of his cigar, the barest hint of a cologne. “Need something princess?” I bit my lip as I smirked. 

“Can I ask for that kiss now?” His thumb tugged my lip free of my teeth. I sucked it into my mouth, tongue brushing against the tip. A tiny moan caught in his throat. Just the sound, knowing I made the stoic man weak, shot heat through my veins. 

I drop his thumb and grab the neckline of his shirt, drawing him closer so our lips could connect. For a moment my stomach drops as he stays still against me. He exhaled, breath coasting across my face. Then he’s kissing back. It’s slow, long languid strokes against each other. His hand caressed the side of my neck, thumb against my pulse point, his calloused palm a pleasant scrape. There’s no rush, no desperation like before in the bathroom with Wade. That tension, his resistance to me wanting him, has seemingly evaporated. I plucked his shirt from his jeans, hands exploring his torso, tracing the lines and ridges there. His head tipped to the side and mine mirrored it. His tongue stroked against my lip, begging entrance, which I freely gave. The wheaty tang of beer is heavy on him and it never tasted so good. I wanted to sink into this feeling, this pleasant hum of contentedness, but his mouth moved too soon from mine. It traveled across my cheek, along my jaw, before hoovering over my ear. 

“You can get the rest of your kisses later, okay sweetheart?” I whined in frustration. “Do you want to eat burnt food?” He pressed one last kiss to my cheek before extricating himself from me. I wanted to draw him back, say fuck it to the food. But I just sighed. 

“Fine.” He grinned. He flipped the steaks, checking under the pot lid at the status of the rice. Well, at least I get to watch those hands again. Of course, I rarely ever get what I want. The food was done too quickly and despite my stomach feeling like it was about to eat itself, I mourned watching him. I accepted my plate gratefully, pressing my lips to his in thanks. My steak was cut into thin strips, perfectly done, while his and Wade’s were still whole. I noticed a lack of a knives on their plates as we went to the living room. 

“Not Victoria!” Wade cried, flopping back on the couch in defeat. I nestled next to him, plate balanced precariously on my knee. Logan, realizing we all wouldn’t fit on my tiny couch, sat on the floor in front of me, his wide back against my shins. To my horror, and amusement, both of them picked their steaks up with their hands and ripped into them. I watched a trail of juice run down Wade’s chin. He turned and smiled. “He’s rubbed off on me,” he nudged Logan’s shoulder with his knee. “He gets a hunk of meat in front of him and he just has to rip into it. When he first saw my ass, he tore a chunk out.” 

“I did not.” Logan grumbled. “I just bit you, it’s not my problem your skin is thin.” Wade shook his head in exasperation. 

“He loves downplaying his accomplishments.” I hummed, mouth still full of food. Logan was a great cook, the steak practically melted in my mouth.

“If I’m between you two, could we keep the stabbing and biting to a minimum? I’d rather not have to buy new sheets all the time because you two keep ruining them.” 

“Aw,” Wade cooed, his breath ghosting across my cheek. “Come on baby, you already stabbed me once. Don’t you want to do it again?” I spun to face him. 

“No,” my voice was louder than intended from shock, “didn’t it hurt?” Wade shrugged. 

“Yeah, of course it did. But if your wet pussy is around my dick, the pain doesn’t matter. Probably just make me come harder.” My face was hot and I squirmed. He changed in the most attractive way when he spoke about sex. A look of brazen confidence came over him, his voice smug. 

It turned me on. 

The idea of injuring him was unappealing and sent a wave of fear over me. But if it was something he would want… “I don't even need a super sniffer to know you want to try it out. I promise I fuck so much harder when knives are involved.” 

“Wade,” Logan warned. 

“Doesn’t she smell good? Good enough to eat huh?” My thighs squeezed together and I swallowed. Wade was leaning in closer, like a spring about to snap. Logan’s hand shot up, gripping the other man’s chin, and yanked him to face the tv. 

“Leave her alone. Don’t make me put my claws through your head.” 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time. You know your claws just make me even more sensitive.” Logan slapped Wade’s cheek, not hard enough to injure, just enough to make a crack. Wade groaned but settled back into the couch, giving Logan’s hair a little tug. We finished dinner in relative silence, Logan and I were quiet while Wade continued his narration, critiquing everything from the fashion to the date ideas. With Wade’s attention off me, the sudden flash of arousal faded, but not totally. 

Once our plates were clean, I grabbed them before Logan could even attempt to move. “Hey, let me do that,” he grumbled, trying to grab my shirt to stop me. I evade his hand with a giggle. I run the dirty dishes under the faucet, putting them, along with the pots and pans Logan used to cook, in the dishwasher. “You should go and sit back down. Let me take care of it.” 

“Jesus!” I yelped, the edge of the knife I had been handwashing catching the tip of my finger. “Need to put a bell on you,” I murmured, letting the warm water from the faucet run over the cut. It wasn’t deep but stung like a paper cut. Logan removed my finger, examining the injury. A thin line of blood oozed from it. “It’s okay, just needs a bandaid. Should have seen it after I got a mandolin.” He grunts, kissing the cut, before letting my hand fall. I flicked the water off. 

“Have you taken anything yet?” 

I shook my head. “It doesn’t hurt Logan, just aches.” He drifted closer, our bodies flush to each other, my hips bumping the counter. 

“I’d much rather you take it now,” he nearly purrs, gruff voice tender. “That way it won’t hurt later.” His hands caged me in. 

“I think you just like telling me what to do.” 

Logan shrugged, “one of you two needs to listen to me.” I hummed, considering, arms wrapping around his neck. 

“Fine, you win.” It looked like he was going to pull away but my arms tightened in warning. “For being so nice and following your orders, I want another kiss.” He huffed a laugh. 

“Are we using them are bargaining chips now?” 

“Yes, you’re the one who keeps saying I’ll get more later. So I’m asking for at least one now.” 

“Okay princess, you get whatever you want.” He gently removed my arms, grabbing me a glass of water, as well as the bottle of painkillers. “Here,” he plucked one of the little pills out, holding it for me. I open my mouth in response, tongue out. “You and Wade,” he grumbled, “always trying to tease me.” His fingers graze my tongue as he puts the pill on it. “Now drink,” the command in his voice made my skin prickle. I take the glass dutifully, swallowing the pill down, making a satisfied ah noise once I was done. “Here’s your reward.” The kiss was so brief I thought I had imagined it.

“Hey,” I growled, “don’t be mean.” Logan was smug as he brushed some loose hair from my face. “Fine,” I wiggled from between his arms, heading back to the living room. “I’ll go ask Wade for some.” 

“Oooh smoochie time!”

[tau1tvec]

[ quote ]

Cain was invited by Bethesda's Todd Howard to the premiere event at the Chinese Theater in LA, and seemed to enjoy the big budget celebration of the Fallout series. As for the show itself, Cain had nothing but praise for the premiere, which consisted of the season's first two episodes. "I was literally at the edge of my seat," he said.

Cain appreciated the performances and storytelling, but singled out how the show nailed the Fallout "vibe" as its biggest achievement. "I was just looking at all the props," he said of one scene. "I realized after a few minutes went by that I had not followed the dialogue at all, because I was so engrossed by it visually."

On a more sour note, Cain took time to address the way fans of the series can behave poorly online, particularly regarding any perceived rivalry between Fallout entries developed by Bethesda (3, 4, and 76), and those from Interplay, Black Isle, and Obsidian (1, 2, and New Vegas). Cain spoke positively of Todd Howard, and said that "Some of the stuff you [series fans] say online is so off."

At the premiere Cain also caught up with Brian Fargo, founder of original Fallout publisher Interplay and currently the head of RPG studio inXile. In the past, Cain criticized Fargo when explaining why he left development on Fallout 2 to found his own studio, but Cain made it clear that their relationship is amicable, and that the development of Fallout 2 was a complicated situation from over 20 years ago: "People remember things differently, things happen differently, things affected people differently."

Unfortunately, Fargo seems to have experienced abuse online from fans reacting poorly to Cain's story, reactions which the developer strongly disavowed. "If we can get along, you guys can get along," Cain insisted.

"You guys can be really destructive," Cain said, "Which is odd, because you do it to people who are trying to make things."

[ end quote ]

[neciebee]

2024 Fic Writer End of Year Roundup

Answer and then tag three or more creators to keep the game going!

(If you're in my answers consider yourself tagged if you'd like to play!)

1. How many words did you publish on AO3 in 2024?

17445. I just a baby.

2. How many fics did you complete this year?

6:- 5 one-shots and a drabble

3. How many in progress or ongoing fics did you start this year?

I really only write short one-shots, but two of them deserve a bit of fleshing out in a follow-up or three

4. What was your favorite thing you wrote?

I Need You was the first thing I wrote that has a possible continuation. I was obsessed with the idea of forcing the acceptance of the mating bond, and the subsequent fallout. More to come, hopefully! The muses bit me hard that day. Thank you, @mistandmemories, for popping my sprinting cherry!

Probably not what the question is asking, but I'm also pretty proud of some of the comments I leave on my favourite fics! (FUCK YOU, TESSALANTERN, and 🌈DENIAL SOUP!!!🏳️‍🌈 stand out as my favourites.) It takes a lot to digest so many plotlines and such incredible writing, and the live-reacts help me process the amazing stories that we've been blessed with. These authors put so much into their work, and I enjoy showing my avid appreciation (and horror)! ( @jules-writes-stories and @iftheshoef1tz, yours are coming once I recover from my indigestion and brain rot.)

5. What piece was your most experimental or different from your usual style?

I'm very pleased with my gift for @born-to-riot. It's the sweetest thing I've ever written and it's not even smutty! Not Sorry was probably the furthest deviation from my genre, as I mainly write smutty Sadlube where nobody is happy and the sex starts, continues, or ends in tears. Writing something for someone else took me out of my narrow band and I like it.

6. Did any fics surprise you - either while writing or their reception?

I was pleasantly surprised when commenters were keen for me to continue I Need You and Not Sorry. I did leave a lot more hanging than I normally do. I usually keep a couple of threads floating in the wind to tempt speculation, but I overdid it with those two. It's time I give y'all my LORE!!!

7. Do you have a fic you wrote and loved that went under the radar? (This is your sign to reblog/repost it!)

I Can't if you Won't, but I Will is my only Casriel, though they're both mated to their assigned vipers. It's their mutual substitution pining fuck! I spent ages reading and rereading the High Lord meeting and the subsequent night and morning in order to ensure everything was canon compliant. It first struck me when both Cassian and Azriel disappeared while Mor was getting disappointingly railed by the veritable Sex God of Prythian.

8. Who is an artist that inspired you?

@fourteentrout , @nus4y , @lucychanart , @works-of-heart , @krem-does-stuff , @naariel , @tendermiasma , @elleybug , @chunkypossum , @copypastus , @strykozart , and many more have all created works that I've stared and stared and stared at! For educational purposes.

9. Who is an author that inspired you?

Buckle up, y'all...

@mistandmemories for the pining

@jules-writes-stories for putting everything Azris into one masterpiece

@the-darkestminds for despair

@chunkypossum for getting me and giving us pain

@fieldofdaisiies for carving her words into my heart, @shadowsandlint for LORE, @iftheshoef1tz for luring me here in the first place, @futurehunt for amazing plots, @fourteentrout for an incredible output of sexytimes, @secret-third-thing for being unhinged, @acourtofladydeath for the insane premises, nat-tav for smut, @greenvelvetcouture for incredibly pornographic romance, tessabeth for twists, @pippsmcgee for having her fingers in so many pies and fucking that shit up, @nocasdatsgay for cliffhangers, @brunetterebel010 for a different take, @ofduskanddreams for making me love AU, flamesandshadows for Lucien love, @ysmtttty for being an absolute flirt, @unanswered-stars for the unanswered letters, @melonsfantasyworld for being a complete slut, Vivienne1412 for her Vanserras, shadowhandss60 for unapologetic filth, @g00seg1rl for hilarity, @witch-and-her-witcher for variety, astarla for romance without a bond, @yanny-77 for the lip ring, mathiwrites for Tamlin, voralisthelittlebat for stalking as a love language, nothinggoingontoday for the benefits, sam_lane for writing the real canon, @crazy-ache for the kitty, @zenkindoflove for Alexius, Clare, and Andras

10. Who is a new author you discovered?

I just got back into ff this year after two decades away. Everything and everyone is new to me and I can't be happier with the comradery between us all! But @buffy-vanserra, @g00seg1rl, @nus4y, and @jolenes-library have been recent additions to my subscribe button.

11. Did you do any collaborations? How did it start?

I haven't collaborated, but I did participate in the gift exchange, which gave me inspiration that I never would have found on my own (thanks @born-to-riot), and allowed me to dump my thirstiest dreams onto my Santa (thanks, @brunetterebel010). I also betaed for the first time (on the very last day of 2024) for @shadowsandlint, who I've been simping over since I first came across her work.

12. What accomplishments are you proudest of?

Hitting the publish button. I am so very shy about sharing the shit that falls out of my brain, but I've been met with only kindness and support instead of judgement and critique.

13. What did you learn about writing or creating this year?

Just get it down. You can edit later. Stop perseverating over the little things.

14. Any advice you’d like to share with new or aspiring writers?

Do it, don't be shy. We promise to be nice about it.

15. What are your creative goals for 2025?

I'd like to continue I Need You and Not Sorry. I'd also like to try writing other characters. The brain worms are wriggling. Ianthe and Tamlin are peeking in.

[thewhitefluffyhat]

Have you played the new deltarune chapters? I have lots of thoughts on them.

Hahaha what an excellent and timely question! No, I have not had a chance to play the new deltarune chapters yet. …But my curiosity got the better of me and I've been reading a bunch of theorizing this week anyway. 😂

So yes I would LOVE (wait, uhhh maybe I should use a different word there) REALLY LIKE to hear your thoughts!

My own rambling impressions (spoilers for all of Chapters 3&4, including the Weird Route):

.

Deltarune has always been an intriguingly odd blend of genres.

As presented in Chapters 1 and 2, the Dark World plot is a very classic portal fantasy story. We have our group of misfit teens who get whisked away to a magical land where they are the Chosen One(s) and must to Save the World from some nebulous Evil Thing according to a Prophesy.

Indeed, we've known for a while that the Darkeners are everyday objects such as toys that are brought to life - thematically tied to escapism and play. It's the kind of story set up where you expect the protagonists to go on an adventure, learn some big lessons about themselves, and then they say goodbye to their fantasy friends and return to the "real world" as better and more mature people for the experience.

Naturally, adults can't and shouldn't know about the other world, because this is fundamentally a Coming of Age story centered on kids.

…So what initially shocked me most about the events of Chapters 3&4 is how much that portal fantasy is already breaking down and bleeding into the normal setting. Adults are being abducted. The Prophesy is not just known but tied to religion in the town. Asgore has a Black Shard and looks about to create the next Fountain. What the HECK is going on with Carol and why does she know about the Red SOUL??

(But of course, there will still be a festival arc! Can't miss that, hehe.)

Which brings me to the other genre Deltarune draws from: the small town mystery with a disappeared child and a surreal secret. The way that Dess haunts the narrative (especially the Snowgrave/Weird Route) has always had strong Life is Strange/Night in the Woods/Omori/Beacon Pines vibes but I get even more of that impression now.

So what happens when these genres collide?

Omori in particular has a lot in common with Deltarune, including having an otherworld themed around escapism and taking part in a fun heroic quest. [Implied spoilers for Omori for rest of paragraph] Also, the more we see of Kris's true personality (and I'm fascinated and endeared by the new flashes we see in 3&4), the more it seems like they're a quirky but well-meaning goofball. I could very easily see the mystery at the heart of Deltarune's backstory ultimately being similar to the mystery of Mari. Perhaps one of Kris's pranks accidentally went very wrong and got Dess killed/corrupted, and they drifted apart from Noelle for the same reason Omori can't bear to be around Basil.

(But would such a story - two kids getting in over their heads, and the trauma of that reverberating to the present - be too predictably similar to Undertale?)

I'm unsure how the Bunker fits into this puzzle, because that seems the nexus of where the genres break down the most. My current theories are all wacky stuff like: "Inside the bunker is something akin to the True Lab, where Carol (and/or Gaster??) were experimenting with SOULs but the Red SOUL got accidentally put into Kris instead of its intended vessel when they wandered in. Also somehow Dess was involved (and maybe some part of her became the Roaring Knight after being infused with Kris's original SOUL?). The fallout from this shattered the Dreamurr family and Asgore is still trying to figure out what happened."

But that doesn't explain the Dark World and what's going on with the Prophesy. It also feels a little too abruptly and incongruously sci-fi… though perhaps I shouldn't discount that given how fundamental EarthBound is to this genre soup.

What else…

So far, I don't think anything in the new chapters has contradicted my big theory post from Chapter 2! Heck yeah! If anything, a lot of 3&4 confirm pieces of it, removing any doubt that Kris's actual personality isn't malicious, and that they do care for their friends.

I think the one major aspect I'm more certain of now is what the Red SOUL wants from Noelle on the Weird Route. Given the way the SOUL can read her thoughts, some of the strangeness with missing dialog/rain after That Scene in Chapter 4, and maybe even some things people have found digging into the code… I'm on board with the theory that she's being turned into a second vessel. (Hence Kris's horror at everything, given how much they hate being a vessel themselves!)

The Red SOUL wants out of its cage, and into a stronger and more cooperative body.

And yet I still come back to the same question I was circling at the end of those Chapter 2 thoughts. Why does the Red SOUL want this? Is it trying to break free from the Prophesy? To adhere to the letter of it, but subvert the spirit? ("Love will find its way to the girl", huh…) Or is it trying to enforce the Prophesy, when in the normal route we will find a way to go against destiny?

(Or are its motives something else entirely? Like Undertale, Deltarune is in many ways a ghost story…and what does Dess want? Or Gaster, for that matter?)

Gah, I haven't even played 3&4 yet, and I'm already desperate for Chapter 5! :D

[sonkitty]

Did Crowley create the universe?

Did Crowley create the universe?

Yes, of course he did.

See. No universe yet.

Crowley says, "Let there be light."

Now we have a universe!

Ta-da!

See, easy.

...

What's that you say?

You don't believe me.

Well, okay.

Hold on, another call is coming in.

Oh, this caller wants the more complicated form of the answer.

Hmm. Okay, Imaginary Caller, for you, I will do that, but I will also give the skeptics a moment to leave if they so wish.

And the people who find this stuff boring, also if they so wish.

...

Okay, moment over.

So, what's the more complicated way to get to Yes?

When Crowley opens the book in Before the Beginning, it is labeled as a Nebula 213,080. During the line in which he recites the words, those words before, "Let there be light," you can find the letter set to "Book of Lie."

This letter set happens before the first instance of the letter set for "Book of Life." Throughout the dialogue in the show, a curious reader can find both in a format that looks like whoever put it there wants it to be found.

After all, the last instance of "Book of Life" happens before the last instance of "Book of Lie."

And the last instance of "Book of Lie" is the last time the letter set for "matchbox" can be found.

All of that is to say, that the Good Omens 2 universe takes place in the Book of Lie, a universe Crowley created in Before the Beginning.

Am I sure?

Well, I am quite sure those letter sets are where they are to give me that type of idea, which is in line with what's happening in Before the Beginning.

Before the Beginning tells us a lot of things, but a really basic idea is to show us a type of nothing surrounding a character before our idea of what the universe is appears.

The character showing the most substantial work on screen into making that happen is Crowley, but we are assured he didn't do it alone. He calls out to Aziraphale for help and even when Aziraphale asks if Crowley made it all himself, referring more specifically to the nebula, Crowley hesitantly credits himself while also admitting he wasn't the original concept designer. He worked very closely with Upstairs on it.

From there, new questions form. Is the Book of Lie a pocket reality, a backup copy of reality, a development copy of reality, a strong extension of Crowley's imagination, or what? Like...after Adam rebooted reality, with all its exertions on the fallout, does reality need time to repair itself? Crowley's incantation starts from page 11 after all. Adam was 11 when he rebooted reality.

The nebula in question is named the Pillars of Creation, so while that doesn't specify "universe" by word, it does lend itself to the "create" part of our worded question.

Speaking of which, perhaps you are wondering if the letter sets in Before the Beginning give us the answer to this question, and surprisingly, yes.

You wouldn't think so because "no" is so much easier to find than "yes," due to "n" being a more frequently used letter than "y."

In Before the Beginning, Crowley has 4 lines where you can find the letter set for the question, "Did Crowley create the universe?"

They are:

Example 1:

Oh, right. Well, what doesn't this beauty do? Basically, it's a star factory. All the…all the dust and gas you can see, is actually building about…about 5,000 young stars and protoplanets. Most of the universe's stars will come pre-aged, but these ones are only starting out. A few million years to bake and then voom! Stars everywhere!

Example 2:

But that's idiocy! It's the universe, it's not just some fancy wallpaper! Millions of galaxies, trillions of stars, oodles of…everything! It's not just put here to twinkle! Most of it won't even be visible from Earth. Why don't you put Earth in the middle of the universe so the view's better?

Example 3:

Well, you know, if I was the one running it all, I'd like it if someone asked questions. Fresh point of view. You can't just create a universe, run it for a few thousand years and then stop.

Example 4:

Mm, thanks for your help. And thanks for your advice. I wouldn't worry though. How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?

Notice that 3 of these 4 instances have one question mark and even the one that doesn't has the word "questions" in the dialogue.

So, how do those examples give us Yes?

In Example 1, you can find the "y" for "yes" 9 times. On its own, that number mainly stands out at the moment due to a related puzzle about Crowley's rank and the number of orders in angelic hierarchy. I am reasonably sure of myself that he's a Throne in this scene, in case you were wondering.

For our current search, the 9 is more of an alert that we can consider numbers in this question/puzzle.

In Example 2, the "y" hits 5, which doesn't help much at the moment.

But Examples 3 and 4 are where we get the answer.

In both examples, the "y" for "yes" can be found 3 times. If you don't already know by now, this story is heavy on the Rule of Three.

Interestingly, for Example 3, the letter "s" is findable 11 times to match our page 11 of the book.

But Example 4 is where it's really at.

The letter "e" is very, very common in the dialogue. For Crowley's "spend" speech in the Final Fifteen, I can find the letter "e" 70 times. Why 70? I don't know, but it definitely stuck out when I was running other searches.

How many instances of the letter "e" can be found in the question, "Did Crowley create the universe?" The answer is 6.

How many instances of the letter "e" can be found in Example 4? The answer is also 6.

Example 4 is the last finding for the Book of Life in the letter sets for this scene, all found in that last question of, "How much trouble can I get into just for asking a few questions?"

Not only are there 6 instances of the letter "e," there are 6 instances of the letter "s" to be found in that last line, and 6 instances of the letter "i."

What's so important about the "i," given that the letter is not in "yes," "no," or even "maybe"? If Crowley's telling us the answer, he is giving us the "i" to represent him ("I did" or more specifically, "I did but not on my own").

Do you remember the 5 instances of "y" for Example 2?

How many words is the question, "Did Crowley create the universe?" It is 5 words.

Returning to the letter "e" idea, that is a precise effort to get that many of that extremely common letter. It matches the number of Crowley's 6 Threshold Tricks performed during Good Omens 2. We get the "s" and the "i" to reach 3 letters that hit the 6.

And the number 6 is a perfect number.

So, that's a way of the writing communicating to a curious reader that yes, this exact question wording was intentionally hidden in the dialogue, especially for the last line of the scene. From there, you can play with the numbers for the "yes." We can be further helped along by recognizing that "yes" is a 3-letter word.

A key idea in answering this question is to recognize that Crowley had help. He was part of a team. Even in Earthly Objects where his play is top tier and well beyond other characters, his advanced moves, his Threshold Tricks, always require assistance from somebody somehow to do the Trick.

[arsenal-womens-1]

I see you in my reflection part 2

Tw: guns school shooting death blood self harm description of death murder panic attack if there’s any I’ve missed sorry

“The bravest thing I ever did was continue my life when I wanted to die.” — Juliette Lewis

“If you love someone, you say it. You say it right then, out loud. Otherwise, the moment just passes you by.” — Mark Sloan

Six hours later, you are on your way back to Leah's. It was just going to be Beth, Viv, you, and Leah having dinner tonight after you’re planning on watching a movie called *The Fallout*. You have no clue what it’s about, but it’s apparently meant to be good. It’s cold outside, not too cold, but still cold. The car comes to a stop. Finally, you get out of the car and run to the door. Leah walks up the stairs as slowly as possible, finally opening the door. You run in, running straight to the kitchen. Leah had agreed to let you help with dinner. It’s called marry me chicken. It takes about 45 minutes to cook.

“Right, get all the ingredients out, and we can start cooking,” Leah says, pulling out all the ingredients: 30 g of plain flour, 4 chicken breasts, 125 g sundried tomatoes in oil (drained and roughly chopped), 3 tbsp oil (reserved), 1 red onion (finely chopped), 3 garlic cloves (crushed or finely grated), ½ - 1 tsp chili flakes (to taste), 2-3 thyme or oregano sprigs (leaves picked), or 1 tsp mixed dried herbs, 150 ml of double cream, 250 ml of chicken stock, 35 g parmesan (grated), 8-10 basil leaves (torn), and lemon wedges.

Halfway through making it, there is a knock at the door before Leah can say anything. You run to the door. Beth and Viv are just standing there. “Come in,” you say, taking off their shoes and coats. You all walk back into the kitchen where Leah is still doing stuff for the food. “How was media day?” You just shrug your shoulders at that.

“Boring, mainly they all ask the same question, just in a different way,” you reply. Beth and Vivian just shake their heads. You have said multiple times that you don’t like media days. This is only the second one you’ve done, but you still have the same opinion: “Yeah, they do that a lot apart from a few, and since you couldn’t do any work today, you need to do a bit more tomorrow.” The only downside of living with Beth and Vivian is that they make you do schoolwork. It’s the most boring thing.“What if I don’t do any more schoolwork?” you ask.

Viv loses it at your shoes, saying that no matter what you are doing, the work is still there.

You just accept your fate. “Can someone call my phone? I’ve lost it. It’s aging.” Leah holds your phone up and says, “Thank you.” Opening your phone, there is a text from your dad.

Dad:

“Hey kid, I know we haven’t spoken in a bit, but I thought I would text you and see how you are doing. Also, Max and Missy want to know if you are going to be home this summer for their birthday.”

You:

“Hey Dad, I’m doing good. I don’t think I’m going to be able to make it home this summer, but tell Max and Missy that I miss them and I wish I could be there, but I can’t. I’ll send them presents.”

Dad:

“It’s okay, kid. You don’t have to apologize. I know why you don’t want to come back, but they wanted to know if you were able to come. It’s good to hear that you’re doing well. I have to go. The twins need to be dropped off at your grandma’s house.”

You:

“I’ll text you later. I love you too.”

“Who are you texting?” Leah asks as she finishes cooking.

“My dad was asking if I was going home this summer.” In the time the team had, knowing you’ve only ever said that you lived in America, you dodged any other questions, so at one point they all just left it, seeing that you didn’t want to talk about it before you got there. “Are you going home this summer?” they asked.

“No, I think I’m just going to go to another country,” you told them.

They all nodded. “What country are you thinking of going to?”

You had thought about this a lot. “I was thinking Norway, Sweden, Spain, or the Netherlands. I’ve always wanted to go to those countries.” When you said “Netherlands,” Viv smiled a bit for the next 45 minutes. You all talked for 20 minutes before the food was done. It was time for the movie.

The movie starts with a girl sitting on the toilet. Three minutes later, she walks to the bathroom. Viv and Beth are sitting next to each other, and Leah is in the middle. On the end, exactly seven minutes in, it sounds like a door banging and screaming more. It feels like your heart is about to pound out of your chest. A lump in your throat starts to form.

Blood everywhere, screaming, bullets.

“I can’t breathe.” The second you say that, all three of them are beside you. Vivian lifts you up and places you in her lap. “Copy my breathing pattern.”

“Y/N, I’m scared.” The door slams open.

“They didn’t do anything wrong; it should have been me.” Your breathing isn’t slowing down. “They didn’t deserve it; we were just kids.” Beth is now standing behind you, kind of trapping you like a burrito. “Copy my breathing, kid.” You try your best to copy her breathing, eventually doing so.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Your head is still on Vivian’s chest.

“I’m a twin… was a twin. The shock on their faces was something. We were identical. Lucy was 1 minute and 25 seconds older than me. She always would use that or say it was the best time of her life.” Tears were falling down your face. The girls said nothing, so you continued. “When we were 4, we moved from California to New York. Our next-door neighbors had a girl our age. Her name was Lily. She had green eyes, brown hair, and was a little bit taller than us. We became inseparable. We were in the same class. It was grade 6; we were in 4th period English with Miss Cooper. We sat at the back of her class.”

“Today we are learning about Romeo and Juliet.” Lily is to the left of you, and Lucy is to the right. “Lily, give me a pencil; I’ve forgotten mine again.”

“We were 12 minutes into the class when the first shouts could be heard two doors down from us. The screams for help were horrifying. We did everything they said to do. He was down with that class fast. He moved to the one next to us. There was a door connecting both classrooms together. We didn’t barricade it.”

The sound of the door crashing open startles everyone. Before anyone can do anything, he’s shooting randomly all over, and in 2 minutes, he’s gone.

“Lily was on the ground. She was in a pool of blood. He shot her 6 times; 2 of them hit her left lung. I tried to stop the bleeding, but it was no use. Her lungs were filling up with blood. Her beautiful face was covered in blood. She was scared. I could tell because of the way her eyes looked. She would get that look when she was scared. Lucy laid her head on my shoulder. She had been shot once, between her chest and shoulder. I remember Lily’s eyes starting to shut. I remember saying, ‘Come on, Lily, keep your eyes open for me. Keep them open.’ I remember her last words so clearly: ‘Y/N, it’s okay. It’s okay. Go be a superstar, win all the trophies. Don’t give up on your dream.’ There was another round of shots. The color in her eyes was gone. She was gone.”

“No, no, no, Lily, don’t leave me. Please don’t leave me.” Armed police rush through the door. “Everyone show hands.”

“I don’t really remember much about how I got from the classroom to the ambulance. I remember the paramedic saying that I had been shot 3 times. I didn’t even know that I had been shot. I was in shock. I remember the sirens. I remember them asking questions, getting wheeled into the ER. I was next to Lucy. I remember her heart monitor. I didn’t know what it meant except that she was alive. Within 2 minutes of being there, she flatlined. They tried to get her back, but they couldn’t. 14:25 was her time of death. A piece of the bullet had made its way to her heart. They were dead, and I wasn’t. After that, I turned to self-harm and other things. I wanted to be with them. It wasn’t until about 2 months after it all that it sank in that I had lost my twin sister and my first love in the same day

[planetary-00]

What are some of the arcs you have headcanons for that Peridot didn’t explore in canon? If you don’t mind me asking. I really wanted to see her more in the series and I felt there was so much more for her to do.

Omgggg okay so I have a lot of things I wish were explored more

1. toxic doomed lapidot arc - I liked the one episode where Steven and amethyst try to cheer her up after lapis left her and took the barn but I wished there was more of that. also there wasn’t much talking between the two when lapis got back. She never apologized for leaving and taking her entire home and I wish I got to see more of the fallout and character beats from raising the barn. (I dont blame the crewniverse at all for any of these points tho I get they were just trying to finish the show with a real ending after writing a gay wedding they could only fit so much into the ending of the show) With the way peridot was talking about their relationship in raising the barn there were so many red flags and I just wish it could have been explored more like what happened in that barn how did they get to this codependent dynamic in the first place? Like it seemed fine on the surface but I also got the feeling that peridot was putting on a face for lapis bc her personality changed so much once she was separated from the crystal gems and only being around lapis. And then when peridot said she was always bending over backwards to make her happy it kinda confirmed that for me like a lot of what she did she did to keep lapis happy, or if not happy then just not breaking down. Lapis had been through so much trauma and it makes sense for her to act that way and for her to feel like she needs someone always keeping her together and making things right for her, not realizing that it comes at the other persons expense. I love both of them and I think they both have the best intentions but I think they are doomed idk I like them better apart honestly I want to see them independent from each other in the end but it is so satisfying to watch the angst play out. So yeah

2. Peridot backstory - I want to know more about her life before she got to earth, her manager, etc, I know she is a newer gem so it wouldn’t be a super long history of stuff but I want to see her learning she needs limb enhancers and seeing era 1 peridots (which I hc are tall) and what she’s “supposed” to look like and what abilities she is supposed to have and just feeling wrong and bad abt herself 😭 ok ill admit it sounds like I want her to suffer but honestly to me I see the signs of it already like how she views herself and I just want it to be explored.

3. AMEDOT ARC - ok I really like their dynamic and I feel like peridot acts the most like herself and the most authentic when she is around amethyst. I swear too far is one of the best eps. I want to see them fuse SOO BADDD I think they are so cute. It also seemed TO ME like amethyst was jealous of lapis in that one ep where she visits them but that could be my bias speaking. I think they would actually be good for each other and it would be really cute I love them and they def had a lot of potential. They both feel inferior for the way they were made(at least I hc that peridot does, we know amethyst does) and I feel like they could bond over that

4. I want to know how she got over not having her limb enhancers anymore. Cause not only does it make her shorter more importantly I think is that it makes her harmless. She doesn’t have the ability to summon a weapon (YET, I also hc that she will learn how to do it eventually) and she has no way of defending herself. She does have metal powers but I feel like the damage she could do is so limited compared to her limb enhancers. So why in SU future, when they have full access to the home world warp, does she not replace them? I think thematically it would be setting her back so it makes sense that she wouldn’t, but I want to see her thought process behind it and how she learns to like herself the way she is, even if she feels like she isn’t as strong as the rest of the gems. I really would like to see her learn to summon an actual weapon and learn that she actually can do it despite being told back on home world that she doesn’t have that ability as an era 2 (probs to control her, so her power can be taken away by removing her limb enhancers and making her feel less than)

I’m so normal 😁

[hangingslothcentral]

Today is the fourth anniversary of the day I launched Spirit Box Radio, and it's also the last day of trans awareness week.

I have a lot of big feelings about SBR. If you've listened to the show, you'll know that I was medically transitioning through its release. I went on T at the show's midpoint, in the middle of S2, and my voice was changing throughout the rest of the show's run. I got top surgery two months after the show ended, almost exactly to the day.

Now. We're all big enough and daft enough to be able to have a grown up conversation about this, I think. So here's some stuff about that experience I haven't really talked about before.

1. I wish there had been media which had trans creators transitioning alongside a character who is transitioning when I was younger. The main reason for this is that it would have been representation of trans people, but honestly? The main thing I wanted was to see someone transitioning over a long period of time. So often, transition seems to happen behind closed doors. Unless you are lucky enough to have lots of trans people around you (I grew up in semi-rural Wales so no luck for me there) you just do not see it happening. People, understandably, want to hide the length of the process, the messy in between stages.

2. Transitioning and playing Sam transitioning simultaneous to me was one of the most mentally challenging and emotionally vulnerable things I've ever done. I do not say this lightly; I'm a survivor of abuse and I've seen a lot of shit in my life. I've come out as nonbinary at a corporate job and argued with a university about changing my name on my graduation certificate. As much as I loved it, and still love it, and I'm intensely proud of it and SO glad it exists, making SBR was fucking brutal. Hours of editing my own voice through a period where it sounded different on a near-weekly basis. Having no idea how I sounded anymore and posting episodes anyway. Dealing with the emotional fallout of people responding weirdly to me in my real, actual life whilst portraying a character who is outcast, isolated, and terrified of himself? Challenging as fuck.

3. Many people need to examine the way they're talking about trans men. The conversations around Sam shifted very violently as my voice dropped. This is in part due to the arc this character follows, but it's hard not to notice a shift in language as dramatic as this. It started as soon as the show came back from its S2 midseason break and my voice had shifted down a bit. People talked less about Sam being cute, and for the first time, I started to see people talking about him like he was sexy. These things aren't mutually exclusive, but it was very noticeable to me, especially in contrast to conversations about Oliver, Sam's hot, cis gender, florist boyfriend, who was categorised as sexy from the off. Before my voice dropped, even though they were using the right pronouns for them, people talked about Sam with very feminine, infantilising language, and this almost entirely stopped when my voice dropped.

4. I am so fucking glad I did this. Yes, it was brutal, emotional, and I really struggled through a lot of this process, and I am so glad I did this. I will have the immense privilege of medically transitioning in the way I have over the last few years exactly once in my life. I am glad I took that vulnerable moment and made art with it. I'm glad that my transition is captured and mirrored by this thing I was making at the time it was happening. I'm glad that thousands of other trans people have listened to the show and have heard me doing this as they are doing it, or before they do it, or after, or as they're deciding not to, or finding out they can't, or realising they'll never have the chance, or any one of the myriad experiences of transness that exist. I am, frankly, honoured to have been a part of such a vulnerable aspect in the lives of so many people.

Thank you for reading this. Thank you for listening to the show, if indeed you already have. If you enjoy my work, I would love to be able to pay my bills and be able to keep making it. I have never made even minimum wage for the work I do on my shows. Please consider becoming a member.

[its-in-the-woods]

Coyote Head - Part 7 - Bloodied Kiss

master list

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Pairing: Cooper Howard x Lucy Maclean 

Includes many other characters from Fallout

Synopsis: The nightmares are finally catching up to Lucy.

MINOR GET OUT. Rating/Warning:  Animal/people death, Blood, Gore, Body Horror,Violence, Nightmares, Monsters, Alternative Universe, Slow Burn, Death, Aging, Family Feuding, Older Man/Younger Woman

Note: that I will not be spoiling any of the reading. So you have been warned. I will keep my tags relevant without spoiling what is happening in the story.

*Mind the tags

*This had been clawing at my mind for dayssssss I needed to post it early or I was going to explode

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

As the dust of the car faded, Lucy felt her shoulders drop, it was barely past mid-day and she was already feeling worn out. She was proud of herself, for not backing down and holding her ground. Max had been the first boy she’d really fallen for, and it sucked it had ended the way it did. It was time for her to move forward, to let that part of her life go. Move onto what was coming next for her, hopefully, something that won’t end as tragic.

Lucy turned to her two companions as they started to move, happy that they had stood at her back despite having no idea what was going on. She gave a weak smile at the two, trying to shake off the lingering feeling of dread.  

“Ya’doing okay?” Cooper asks as he moves towards her, the way the afternoon sun shone on his skin making her heart speed up. Her eyes unabashedly went over his body, the man was well-toned. The day-to-day work is evident on the hard lines of his muscles covering him; a crooked grin on his face when Lucy finally catches her eyes. 

Lucy glances away, as Dane grins at her, “Yeah, just, wasn’t expecting him to show up. Ever.”

“Well, shirtless. Could I get a hand movin’ some stuff around to get the mower.” Dane chuckles, Cooper smirking at the comment, the tips of his ears going pink. Lucy smiling at the two ribbing each other.

“Yeah, I can help the greasemonkey,” Cooper throws back, with raised eyebrows. “Shirt got wet. But pipes should be fine.” He said just loud enough for them to hear.

“Sure it did,” Dane rolls their eyes as turning to head to the other shed. Cooper gives them a sideways glance before following, a smile on his lips as he looks back at Lucy.

“I will go turn the water back on for the house,” Lucy chirps, her face was going to be stained beet red at this point. She was feeling happy that she had friends like these.

***

Lucy is once again sitting on the counter, the pipes are now running without leaks. Cooper had actually laid in water, which had given Lucy an excuse to toss his shirt into the dryer. She’d take any excuse to see the man move around her home and property shirtless. Dane had teased him endlessly about it much to Lucy’s amusement. Dane had taken off about an hour ago with the promise to come back on Monday to continue the work. Lucy had half a mind to figure out how to keep them on a more permanent basis. Something she’d run by Harris, see if it was worth doing, and if Dane wanted to stay of course. 

Cooper walks in, putting the caulking gun down beside the sink. He’d decide after finishing the pipe to fix up several issues around the sink. Lucy was positive she could have figured it out but Cooper was insistent. Really who was she to refuse the offer from a shirtless cowboy in her kitchen. She hands him a beer, he pops the top off with a ring on his middle finger. Lucy adds that to the list of things she found way too hot. 

“I can make up some dinner?” Lucy offers, she was pretty sure she could find something worth eating in the freezer. She also needed to make sure that she got Cooper some tallow too.

Cooper leans against the counter right beside her, taking a sip of the beer. Lucy can’t help but watch how he drinks it. “If ya don’t mind. Grandparents are taking the kidlets to d’pool and pizza after. Figured, we’re going to have a long day. ”

Lucy couldn’t help the smile that crosses her face, liking the idea of the two of them having an evening just for them. “Were you planning something, Cooper?”

Cooper’s sliding over so that he was leaning against Lucy, “Well, I was goin’ to ask ya out Ms. MacLean, but ya kinda jumped me.”

Lucy's head tipping back in a laugh, taking another sip of her beer. The two of them looked the other over, her eyes trying to memorize the way he looked out of his shirt.  “I don’t seem to remember you complaining,”

The man puts his beer down shifting so he is standing in front of Lucy, she swallows under his gaze. He leans forward putting a bare arm on either side of her, eyes wandering up her body, their face just inches from each other. Lucy’s breath catches in her chest as his hazel eyes stare into hers. 

“M’no, I certainly didn’t.” Cooper hushes, leaning forward to kiss her again. Lucy can’t help the little whine that escapes as she pushes back against him. Her hands ran up his arms, feeling his muscles twitch under the attention. He tastes so good, their tongues finding the other as they pull each other closer.

Her hands come up to cup his face, his hands resting on her thighs, fingers gripping against the flesh there. Lucy lets her legs open so that Cooper can move closer to her. He breaks the kiss, moving down along her jaw, small kisses down her neck. Lucy whimpers as he licks down her neck, his large hands rucking up her shirt. The callous on his fingers makes her body vibrate as he touches over her skin. 

“Cooper,” Lucy whimpers, her hands running up into his hair, as his hands cup her breast through her bra. “M’maybe we should-” His head ducks down, mouth going along her stomach. It feels so good, but it’s so fast. “Cooper, we shouldn’t-”

His teeth sink into her flesh, “Fuck- Ow- Cooper-” Lucy tries to pull him away but he bites in deeper, Lucy can feel her skin tearing. The sound of teeth in flesh, the wet sticky pop, her face twisting in a grimace. 

Lucy is scrambling, a scream finally leaving her throat at the pain, trying to get him off of her. “Stop. Stop-p it.” Lucy cries out, her hands finally pushing him off of her. The skin is not skin anymore, but rough and lizard-like under her hands. Cutting into her palm as she does her best to get it off of her. 

It’s not Cooper. Looking up at her, with blood painting its chin like a crimson river, is something that looks like Max. Its features are the same, but eyes instead of brown glow like orange flames, skin darker than shadows. Skin Covered in layers and layers of never-ending shifting scales that move in the light. A bloody grin spreads across its face. There are too many teeth, so sharp, in neverending rows, the pink spit glistening as it grinned up at her. Stomach oozing blood over her pants and dripping on the floor. 

“Just wanted a taste.” It growls at her, suddenly lunging forward to latch onto her neck.

Lucy is howling and fighting to get it off her struggling, as she falls to the floor. Her body protested as she hit the ground with a thud, the whole room going dark. She is pushing and struggling, but it’s soft now. Her hands are not grabbing at scales but material, eyes adjusting to the new surroundings. She was on the floor of her bedroom; chest heaving as she tries to make sense of where she was, and how she got there. 

Pushing the blanket off of her, she takes in the room around her. Her bedroom, she had fallen off the bed and landed on the floor. Lucy flips on the light and looks down, pulling up her shirt to look at her stomach. Hands running over where there should be torn tissue, before going up to her neck. Nothing. 

It had felt real, she could still feel the way it’s teeth had dug into her, the pain that had shot through her body. Looking at the bed Lucy expected to see blood, expected to see something. Throwing off the sheets there was nothing but sweat stains. 

Lucy collapsed onto the floor, her body trembling at the memory. It looked so much like Max, but it was all wrong. His face had been too round, eyes too far apart, hair too spiky, so many teeth. The eyes, orange fire-filled eyes, glowing like embers burning into her soul like hot ash on ice. Her hands scramble to the side of her table gabbing for her phone. 

For the first time, she doesn’t hesitate, hitting Cooper’s number. Pressing the phone to her ear, she hadn’t even looked at the time.

***

Cooper was there in a matter of minutes, Lucy opening the door for him, still in a state of shock. He had immediately gathered her up into his arms, hugging her tight against his chest, refusing to let her go until he got her over to the couch. He had her sit, covering her with several blankets, before moving into the kitchen. A hot cup of coffee with hot chocolate was put in front of her, along with some toast. He slid in beside her, bundling her up and tucking Lucy into his side. Her hands wrapping around him as she shivers, her whole body felt like it was frozen.

“You doing okay, sweetheart,” Cooper murmurs, his voice rumbling against the side of her head. Lucy could feel herself melting into his side, wanting to find some way to stay there forever.

Lucy swallows, nodding, “Just-” She wasn’t even sure how to put it all into words. It wasn’t exactly normal to have eighties horror movie dreams every night. “Nightmares have been really bad.” 

Cooper rubs his hand down her arm, Lucy lets her eyes close for a moment and enjoy the comfort.“How often have you been having them?”

Lucy snuggled in closer, reaching for the coffee mug and taking a sip. The warm caffeine and chocolate drink heating her insides. “Since the house got ransacked, it’s been nightly.”

Cooper’s chest grumbles at the words, arms somehow pulling her closer to him. “What was it about?”

“I don’t, I-” Lucy takes a sip of more coffee, before telling him what she’d dreamt about. Not skipping any details, the warmth of the coffee and his body made it easier to get it off her chest. 

Cooper hums, he takes his hat off, setting it beside him on the couch, hand running into his hair. He scratches at the stubble for a second. “Well, that wasn’t the dreams I’d hope you’d have of me.”

Lucy smacks his stomach at the joke, a small smile passing on her lips at the jest, “You think I like this? I’d much prefer no dreams, or well other dreams.”

Cooper grins, Lucy pouting a little, as he chuckles, “No, I don’t think that, I do worry about the nightmares. Can’t ‘member the last time I had a night-terror. Why you’re tired all the time?”

She nods, her eyelids weighing heavy despite the coffee and mind-bending visions.“I feel like I am losing my mind, Cooper.” 

“You’re not goin’ crazy, I think ya need sleep. Maybe some time away.” Cooper mumbles into her ear, pushing hair out of her face. “Why don’t ya let me take ya to my home.”

Lucy’s brows furrow, she didn’t want him to leave, but she also felt like she should stay. Why did she want to stay? The nightmares never stopped her, the shadows, the taping, the knocking? Yet the thought of leaving made her stomach turn, but when Lucy left she felt lighter. 

“You promise you don’t think I am going crazy?” Lucy whispers, wondering how much he would believe. How much did she even believe? None of this made sense, not really. 

He shifts so he can look right at her, eyebrows making his forehead wrinkle.“I promise I don’t think’ya’re goin’ crazy. Anymore than am goin’ crazy.”

“I feel like I am supposed to be here, even with all the nightmares, the shadows, the house being tossed. I keep comin’ back.” Lucy states, her fingers fiddling with the edge of the blanket. Saying it out loud made it seem even more ridiculous than it had in the confines of her mind.

Cooper nods, placing the mug on the coffee table, hand running up and down her arm more. “It’s not surprisin’, this place is your home. It’s where ya grew up.”

“It’s not just that,” Lucy said, sitting up a bit, clutching at the mug, trying to hold onto some shred of reality. “It’s like something is pulling me here. Like I can’t leave.”

“So, leavin’ would probably be wise,” Cooper replies, his hand finding hers. “You’re sleep-deprived, runnin’ on fumes, Lucy. We have a spare room ya can stay in. Until ya can catch up on sleep, have a better view on thin’s with a clear head.”

Lucy sat back, the thought of being off the farm made her stomach twist, but she also needed sleep. Actual sleep sounded amazing, to not feel like she was burning at both ends. 

She nods her head finally. “Yeah, maybe I do need to leave.” 

***

Lucy was sitting at her family's dinner table, watching the kids outside to play on the deck. She had slept most of the day away, her exhaustion not feeling nearly as pressing as it usually did. The spring air was warm today, the hints of summer shifting in the air. She’d slept most of the day, Cooper had brought her to his place at about three am, the two tiptoeing upstairs. Initially, he’d offered her the spare bedroom, but after opening the door and seeing a pile of laundry, his room was the next best. Cooper had insisted on sleeping downstairs, despite Lucy’s best attempt to get him to stay. Traumatizing the children wasn’t high on her list. She was a little peeved he hadn’t woken her up, but she was also grateful for the extended rest. 

Stephanie sat down across from her, glancing out at the kids. They were running back and forth across the deck, possibly paying tag. “How’s it going, Lucy.”

“I am doing okay,” Lucy lies, there was no reason anyone needed to know any more about her problems. “Did you ever talk to Betty?”

“Oh! Yes, Betty.” Stephanie smiled, digging through her phone. “I sent her the photos.” She lets out a sigh, “Unfortunately no dice. Seems like it’s still a mystery.”

“Dang was hopin’ we’d get somethin’ more,” Cooper said, sitting beside Lucy. She desperately wants to crawl onto his lap and fall asleep, but instead, she shuffles a little closer. Steph watching the two of them closely, one eyebrow up. 

“Yeah. probably something diggin’ like you said.” Steph says, shutting her phone off and leaning back into her chair. “Had any more weird stuff happen?” 

Lucy shook her head, not wanting to get into the details, “Nope, hoping it stays that way really.” 

Bert sat down beside Steph leaning in to give her a quick kiss, “Y’all heard about the Roths.”

Cooper and Lucy looking at each other, shaking their heads. It wasn’t like they had had a free moment lately.

“Last night something came and killed two calves. Did some damage to some of the cows too.” Bert sighs, rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Like we needed more loss this year.”

Lucy's mind ran over the property map. The Roth's had a section leased from her that was back half on parkland and half onto her farm. There was also the nightmare last night.

“Which section was it?” Lucy asks, already knowing the answer.

“The section southwest of your place, actually,” Reg's brows furrowing. “Weird huh.”

“Do you know what time?” Cooper asks, his hands taping at the table.

Lucy realizing that Cooper was also putting two and two together. 

“Not sure, I know it was overnight.” Reg replied, “Why? Something happened with you guys too?”

Lucy swallowed, her hands going to cover her stomach. The feeling of her flesh ripping out, the haunting image of its eyes, the sound of its voice. 

“Nothing of note, we did have a mummified calf. But Barry figures it was just a bad pregnancy.” Cooper shrugs, the action supposed to be of disinterest, but his shoulders stay tight. Lucy is happy that he didn't bring up her nightmares until she got some more sleep it wasn’t worth mentioning. Right? 

“Maybe it's the weird spring. Warming up too fast. Animals reacting to it,” Steph adds, her hand covering Reg's. Her eyes looking between the two of them. 

Cooper is up and moving as the sliding door opens, Mathias holding a frog in his hand. The little boy had a grin from ear to ear as he holds it up to show his Dad the little critter he'd found.

“Can't bring it in here, buddy. Why don't we go take it to the pond,” Cooper tells him with a smile, petting the little creature his son held up. Lucy smiling as the two wander out of sight.

“So how long you two-” Steph raises an eyebrow, with a cheshire smile,

“Been a thing?” 

Lucy’s cheeks burn at the words, not realizing how obvious she had been. “No. Well. Yes. But not that long. Didn’t realize I was that transparent..” 

The couple chuckle, Steph smiling at her cousin, as she squeezes Reg’s hand. Free hand waving at Lucy as if it was nothing.

“You both need a little light in your lives,” Reg states smiling at Lucy, before looking at his wife. 

“Keeping things quiet for now. Haven't really talked about it much.” Lusy confesses, Marge coming over to sit at the table.

“Keeping what quiet hon?” Marge questions, holding a cup of tea in her hands. Cooper comes back in through the sliding door, walking over and kissing Lucy on the cheek. Marge chuckles and makes an ahh sound, Lucy doing her damndest not to slide under the table. 

“As long as you're both happy,” Harris says, patting Lucy on the shoulder. Lucy having a hard time keeping her cool, it wasn’t as if they’d put a label on things. They’d kissed once for crying out loud.

“Could I speak to you for a moment, Lucy?” Harris asks, kissing Marge on the top of her head before moving towards the hallway.

“Absolutely,” Lucy smiles, looking back at Coope who nods before following her Uncle into the big house. 

Down past the bedrooms a door leads into a well-lit office, the far wall has three large windows that face out into the backyard and forest line. A large old desk sat in the middle, along with several large filing cabinets and bookshelves. The room was bright against the dark wood, space big enough for two large overstuffed chairs beside the bookcases. On a well-worn stool were three faded bankers' boxes. Lucy recognizes her Grandpa's handwriting on the front. Harris puts a big hand on top of one rotating so he is facing Lucy.

“Me and Margie have,” He pauses looking out the large windows towards the forest. “Debated about whether we should give you these. Tim asked me to burn them. But it didn't feel right.”

Lucy crossed her arms, hugging herself a little as she looked at her Uncle. His usual nonchalant demeanor now scrunched together in tight lines across his face. Pacing back and forth in front of the window as he spoke. 

“These are Tim’s journals. Going back to a month after your Dad and Uncle went missing.” Harris replies, Lucy, feels a wave of dread wash over her as he moves over to his filing cabinet.

“They didn't go missing- '' Lucy goes to reply, Harris placing a newspaper in front of her. Headline read Two men killed in farm accident. “Yeah, this is what Tim showed me.”

“Flip to page four,” Harris said, Lucy did as he asked, unable to get a read on his emotions. Page four has a smaller blurb, Search for brothers ends. Lucy reads through the blurb, a cold pool of dread weighing in her guts. 

“They went missing in the forest. In the forest around my house.” Lucy whispers, her hands shaking as she rereads the words. “They never found the bodies.”

Harris meets her eyes as she looks up at him, “What is going on?” Lucy demands dropping the paper on top of the boxes. “Why? Why? Did no one tell me?”

“Tim made us promise,” Harris said, placing his big bear paw-sized hands on her shoulder, it felt like the weight of the news pressing down on her. “He didn’t want you or Norm to know. He figured that if you thought they were dead you could move on. In ways he never let himself move on.” 

Lucy moves away from Harris, a deep sense of betrayal washing over her. “You’re telling me he didn’t think they were dead? It’s been decades since they went missing.”

Harris had sat himself down in one of the overstuffed chairs. “We searched and searched for weeks. Even after search and rescue stopped, stuf-,” He rubs one of his big mitts across a day's worth of stubble. “Stuff happened during the search. Stuff that doesn’t make a lot of sense.”

Lucy sighs, flopping into the chair beside her Uncle, “Could we not be vague, please? I can handle whatever happened then.”

“While we were searching, people heard things.” Harris’s face went pale.

“They kept hearing Hank call out, or Shaun. It sounded like they were close, but we could never find them. It would go quiet for days, then Me and Tim would go out and hear them again.”

Lucy swallows, “Like it was calling you there.”

Harris looks at her, a knowing look passing over his face. “It scared some of the volunteers. Hearing them, but never finding them. Then a week before your Mom checked out it stopped. These journals are the first time I even had any idea that it had continued after you both got there.” 

“We spent our entire childhood in and out of those woods.” Lucy’s voice was raised, her heart thudding in her chest. “Why would he let us in there if he thought it was dangerous?”

Harris looking older than his year. “Lucy. If I thought you were in any danger I would have taken you and Norm out of there.” Lucy stands there staring at him, anger subsiding at the honesty in his words. “No one. Not one of us. Thought you were in any danger there.”

Lucy swallows, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes. “Once you kids arrived, Tim didn’t share anything. I thought. I thought he was dealing with the loss of his sons. In his own way, never finding the bodies made him want to hold on to hope. So I let him. Then when he got the cancer diagnosis he brought me these boxes. Telling me to burn them once he was dead. That it would all be over, I didn’t know what he meant. But it was like a weight had finally been lifted off of him. ” Lucy shifts in her chair, unsure how to feel. “When your place got tossed I pulled them out, I read a few.” Harris shifts in his chair, staring at the boxes. “I don’t know what I was expecting but you should read them.”

“What is in them?” Lucy pushes, feeling like she is waiting for a bomb to go off. Her hold on the world was sliding, and she wasn’t sure if she would make it.

“Memories, stuff about your childhood. But also. Other stuff. Stuff I don’t know if I can believe.” Harris’s voice going soft. “I should have told you a long time ago and I am sorry for that. But maybe this will help, maybe put things to rest finally.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

PART EIGHT

Tag list: @toogaytofunctiondangit , @hiddlebatchedloki , @whatsorceressisthis @dichromaniac @autumncryptids

*I am gonna say we are onto act 2... it's only gonna get darker from here < 3

**As always likes, comments, shares are soooo appreciated, you can find me Ao3 as well

** Want to be on the tag list let me know

[spinchip]

May I ask ALL of the ask meme questions about Never the Dark 👉👈 I WANT TO KNOW

[ask meme]

i'll do all the ones i havent already answered! Thank you! and putting it under the readmore cuz it'll get long

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

cuteness agression towards zane. love him so much i have to put him through the horrors. No to be serious I just really enjoy writing things that cover darker topics, so drug use, alcoholism, manipulation, etc. is all interesting to write for me, so i favor that type of plot. the main idea came from thinking about what might have happened if Wu never told the other about Zane getting sent to the never realm, and just quietly went there alone to save him. Wu doesn't fight the emperor, he doesn't even try. he tries to bring zane back but he mostly dodges his blows until he's certain that nothing he says will remind him who he is. and then i thought- what would Wu do, and what would be the fallout? and the fic was bornnn

2: What scene did you first put down?

the very first scene. that feels surprising to me- i usually get hung up on scenes happening way later down the line, but i had such a clear and specific idea for how i wanted the prologe to go that it was almost easy.

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

i already did this but i'll do it again.

“Oof-” She stumbles back, “Sorry- what happened? Why are we stopping?” “I apologize.” Birdy says, emotionally flat where he’s standing in front of a large purple tree, “I was simply making sure we were on the right track.” When he starts moving again, he takes a wide step over something. As the others begin to move, Nya sees that the thing Birdy had stopped at and stepped over was a oblong dark spot on the grass. She’d seen a few of them before, scattered around the forest. She steps over it too but doesn’t ask about it. Birdy's voice had taken on that tone that comes when he’s not feeling like himself. She blinks, surprised at herself for knowing that.

this is part of the scene where Birdy is leading the others through the acid forest. I think you all should know that spot? blood on the weird grass here leave lingering stains. this clearing? the same as the one birdy shared with farley. it's why zane doesn't want to stop here and why he acts so jumpy

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

crying screaming throwing up

“It was wrong of me to bring up your friend.” Birdy says before stepping any closer, “I reacted so strongly because I was afraid for you, Kai. Those pills are designed for control. Samira supplies the people of this realm and then twists their addiction against them.” “I don’t need your worry.” Kai says, but it’s lost some of the bite it had before. Hesitantly, Birdy approaches Kai. Slowly, with enough time for Kai to draw away, and with more than a bit of caution to stay out of easy access of another swing, Birdy cups Kai’s injured palm. He takes the bandages next, moving to wrap his hand, “There is not a switch I can flip to turn it off.” Birdy says wryly, carefully winding the gauze around Kai’s hand, “I am sorry for what I said.” Kai just stares at him. “...You may not trust me, but I trust you.” He continues, finishing up dressing his knuckles, “I believe you would have made the correct choice.”

5: What part was hardest to write?

the zane POV chapters actually. isnt that funny? theres just so SO much information that recontextualizes a lot of previous events, and trying to keep track of everything was really hard. ewspecially when past me would add stuff without thinking of the ramifications. like FUCKK i wrote a throwaway line about x in chapter 5 now i have to integrate that into this chapter. damnit.

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

I don't know

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

nope! well there may be a little projection in some aspects, but what is writing if not sorta-therapy through the blorbos?

12: What do you like least about this fic?

that i didn't write it all down and edit before posting. Looking back through chapters i'm catching inconsistencies a lot that coul dhave been avoided if i drafted, then edited and fixed, then posted!

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

i'll make a separate post for this one heehoo

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

don't take candy from strangers.

15: What did you learn from writing this fic

that I can write a book. I used to be so convinced that my attention span wouldn't allow for long form writing like this but i've proved myself wrong. and i'm grateful for that.

[setaflow]

20 Questions, Writing Edition

Tagged by @bubble-bones (writing this from my main this time since it encompasses more than my CP2077 work)-- thank you for thinking of me!

Tagging @ghostoffuturespast @emofthechoir @trashcatsnark @holybatgirlz @callmeguacamole if you want to give it a whirl!

How many works do you have on AO3?

11, dating back to around 2015-- 3 Cyberpunk 2077 fics, 2 Red Dead Redemption 2 fics, 2 Rick and Morty (post S2 only) fics, 2 Fallout 4 fics, 1 Stranger Things (post S2 only) fic, and 1 RDR2/Buzzfeed Unsolved crossover fic. The writing bug really only hits me in waves and I'm a slow writer with heavy word count, which is a combination that tends to lead to low output, unfortunately 😔

I have some Ass Creed fics that live exclusively on my old ff.net account, but those are from like 2013 and they have NOT aged well.

What's your total AO3 word count?

647K, roughly. Over 70% of those words are tied up in 2 fics alone lol. (Add another +/- 225k for my ff.net stuff I didn't carry over to AO3).

What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Belief is the Irrational Now Between Rising and Falling (Stranger Things)

The Perplexing Downfall of the van der Linde Gang (RDR2/Buzzfeed Unsolved)

R.I.P. to my Youth (Rick and Morty)

Structure (Rick and Morty)

The Glorious Second Life of Holly Monroe (RDR2)

What fandoms do you write for?

The real answer is "whatever I'm massively hyperfixating on at the time", which for the past 4 years running has been CP2077 exclusively. In a more general sense, I tend to write mostly for story-driven video games with themes that I feel I have a story I can use explore and build on.

Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I didn't use to-- I really get uncomfortable responding to praise, since I've built a somewhat middling view of my own writing-- but I've come around to it more as I've gotten older. I don't always respond timely, but I try to give the genuine comments that aren't just "love it when update pls" a reply if I can. It's a way to build community, and I acknowledge that.

What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

When I eventually finish Rain in the Desert seven years from now, probably that, but won't lie it's mostly by virtue of subject material. I have a tacked-on epilogue that's really gonna pluck at my own heartstrings, but a lot of it is thanks in part to the Mikoshi endings being very angsty in their own right.

What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Since Irrational Now is the only multichap fic I've ever actually FINISHED, probably that. Even if everything else in my bibliography was completed, it'd probably still take the prize; it was always intended to be whump with a happy ending and writing that happy ending was the reason the final chapter took seven months to come out lol.

Do you get hate on fics?

Once on ff.net, from a well-known spam flamer in the Ass Creed sphere. When they hit my fic, that was how I know I'd made it lmao.

Do you write smut?

I'm a very vocal non-romance writer and the one time I did write romance (not even smut) made me want to claw my eyes out (and, looking back, was almost exclusively to help a 16-year-old Seta's fic get hits). I'm not a huge smut reader, never mind writer, so I leave it to the professionals.

Do you write crossovers?

I HAVE, but in general I don't. If I like a piece of media well enough to want to explore fic for it, I find it's usually because the world itself is the biggest hook, so diluting that via a crossover isn't something that hugely appeals to me.

Have you ever had a fic stolen?

If I have, I haven't been made aware of it.

Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I'd be open to it!

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I have beta'd and assisted with giving ideas and thoughts to some of my IRL friends on their works. Doesn't really count, but it's the closest related thing I can point to.

What's your all-time favorite ship?

I guess I have to throw my hat into the Johnny Silverhand & V camp even though I'm not a SilverV shipper in the traditional sense. I think their relationship is so dynamic and can so easily be taken in different directions, which is something I really enjoy when occasionally browsing the Archive looking for different work. I suppose I also do really enjoy RDR2's Charthur from a narrative standpoint-- I just think the two really compliment each other, and it's probably my favorite RDR2 ship even if I don't actively read it.

What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

The fact that I never finished Glorious Second Life haunts me. It's 36 chapters deep and my writing notes put it at another 35 to go. I had every last narrative plot point planned out to the last detail. The ending that I had for it was so haunting and lyrical that it still keeps me up at night-- maybe one day I'll pick it up again, but ngl the workload needed to finish it is probably my biggest deterrent

What are you writing strengths?

I have a pretty good way with metaphors; even in some of my older pieces I'll usually find one or two I really still like. I'm fairly decent on descriptions (you'll find I'm the ultimate purple prose apologist, whoopsie), and I tend to get positive notes for keeping true to characterization.

What are your writing weaknesses?

I cannot write a well thought-out sexual/romantic element to save my life, nor have I really cared to learn how to. Sometimes my dialogue can be hit and miss, particularly on rereads. And my works are LONG. Way too long, and at this point I kinda understand if it's something about my works that people just don't want to deal with.

Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in a fic?

I've done it in multiple ways and I try to base it on context for the source material. If it's a sentence or two in a whole other language, I'll probably add a blurb in my author's notes with the translation at the bottom. In Glorious Second Life I have entire stretches of dialogue solely in Italian, so I'll add parenthesis translations in-fic for a character speaking non-English in a conversation that's primarily English, and then italicize a conversation fully in another language to designate another language is being used. If I use non-English words where I think the meaning can me intuited on its own, then usually I won't bother adding a translation at all and will just let it be.

I also prefer to use the aspect of reader immersion of, if a character has no means to translate a piece of dialogue-- i.e., if a POV character is speaking with someone who is French that occasionally inserts some French expressions into their conversations, and your POV character doesn't know French-- then you shouldn't include a translation directly into the piece itself, since your POV character wouldn't know what was being said either. I just think it's funner if the reader doesn't immediately have all the answers given to them in the work and does some digging on their own, or at least waits until they hit your end-of-chapter authors notes.

Wordreference.com will be your best friend for years to come.

Favorite fic you've ever written?

I have two different answers for this. Rain in the Desert will always be my baby and continues to be a labor of love that I've very proud of despite it's occasional lumps. In terms solely of audience reaction, Structure takes the cake-- someone made a fucking TVTropes page for an unfinished fic I made like 7 years ago. THAT takes dedication, and I'm forever honored, if not slightly confused, by it.

[lupinmoonlight]

Submission Part 4: Edge

Masterlist AO3 Submission Part 1 Submission Part 2: Establishing Rules Submission Part 3: Obedience

Summary - You sit in Professor Lupin's lap as he edges you with his fingers. You end up losing your v-card to him as well. (5,013 words)

Warnings - smut, teacher/student relationship, heavy D/s undertones, professor/sir kink, rules, fingering, LOTS of "good girl" and "Yes, Sir", age gap obviously, loss of virginity, teasing, edging, mentions of bruises and marking, very light innocence kink if you squint, choking, my grammar (english is not my first language).

Notes - This is not proof-read. So sorry for being MIA. I was burnt out from university and stuff. I still am but I wanted to finish this. I also have 5 hours of sleep left before I have to get up as I am writing this lol. This one is a bit different as I tried to incorporate more of how Remus feels and thinks.

Left alone in the quiet confines of his quarters, Remus sat back in his armchair, his mind racing. He was more than aware that what he was doing was dangerous, was wrong. He was aware of the risks, the potential fallout if you were ever discovered. His career, his reputation, everything could be destroyed in an instant. 

Yet, that day you came to him, desperate for guidance, for dominance, he couldn't say no. There was an undeniable attraction, a pull towards you that he couldn't ignore. He knew that if it hadn't been him, it would have been someone else. Someone inexperienced, someone who could take advantage of your vulnerability, your innocence, and it filled him with a protective rage. He preferred having you explore this part of yourself with him, in a safe environment where he could ensure your consent...or at least that's what he liked to tell himself.  

Remus had always prided himself on his self-control, his restraint. He was known for his moral compass, for his respect towards his students. But with you, all his rules seemed to evaporate. The intoxicating mix of your innocence, your submission, your desire, was too overwhelming to resist. 

Every moment of your encounter replayed in his mind as he sat in his armchair. Your flushed cheeks, your trembling hands, the way you'd looked at him with such trust and submission. The memory of you kneeling before him, of you looking up at him with those wide, innocent eyes, was enough to make him hard again. The way you'd whispered 'Yes, Sir', the vulnerability in your voice, made his heart race. He could still feel the softness of your lips as he grazed his thumb over them, the warmth of your mouth around his shaft, could still taste you on his lips...taste himself on your lips. The marks he left on your neck and back, a visible sign of your shared secret, would be a constant reminder of his dominance, of what you'd done, of what you were about to explore. 

With a sigh, he leaned back in his chair, his gaze fixed on the dark ceiling. He was in deep, and there was no turning back now. 

~

You made your way to DADA the next day trying your best to look as normal as possible. You were normal after all, and no one had any reason to suspect you had been on your knees before Professor Lupin the night before, gagging around him and swallowing him down. You couldn't even let your thoughts wander there. You forced yourself to take a deep breath and walked in the classroom like the most normal student ever. 

The moment you stepped into the classroom, his eyes fell on you. You did your best to look as innocent as ever, your eyes bright, your cheeks flushed with the morning chill. But the short skirt that hugged your hips, hiked up just enough to reveal laced stockings clinging to your thighs, told a different story, whispered secrets only the two of you shared. Your professor took a moment to appreciate the sight, practically devouring you with his gaze, his pulse quickening, his palms itching to touch, to explore. But no- he had to maintain his control- that was what you had asked of him, after all. 

Throughout the class, neither of you could focus on anything else but each other. Every time he looked at you, his gaze lingered longer than it should, tracing the curve of your neck, the shape of your lips. He didn't care how obvious his stare was, how inappropriate it might seem, how predatory it was. He noticed the way your eyes lowered when your gazes met, the faint blush on your cheeks, the subtle shift of your skirt as you crossed and uncrossed your legs. Each small action was a dangerous dance on the edge of forbiddance. He wanted you, needed you. His mind was filled with thoughts of you. Of how he could take you right then and there, on one of the desks. And you, you would just bend over for him, self-respect completely forgotten, dignity gone. 

After class ended, he found his voice, a low, steady command that made your stomach jump, your knees weak: "Y/N, would you stay behind for a moment?" 

Once the room was emptied, the sounds of chairs scraping and students chattering fading away, you found yourself alone with him. He sat on the edge of his desk, his legs spread, silently inviting you to step into the space between them. The air was thick with tension, anticipation, the room suddenly too small for the two of you. 

When you were within reach, he reached out, his fingers finding your waist, pulling you closer. He watched as your eyes widened slightly, your breath hitching as he pulled you against him. He could tell how he affected you, and he loved every moment of it. 

"Look at me," he ordered softly, his gaze unyielding. When you hesitated, he repeated his command, his voice just a notch firmer, "Look at me." 

Slowly, your eyes met his, hesitant yet trusting. His hand moved from your waist to your thigh, his fingers brushing over the lace of your stockings, causing you to shudder slightly. 

"I want these on you tonight when you come to my quarters," he told you, his voice husky. It was an order, a declaration of what was to come. "Understood?"

"Yes, Sir", you whispered, your voice shaky. 

He smiled at you, a small, appreciative smile with a softness only he could mutter. "Good girl," he praised. "Now go, and behave yourself today." 

With that, he released you and you walked away, your steps slightly unsteady, feeling intoxicated by the power he had over you. The arrangement was not supposed to hinder your academic success- yet, your mind was consumed by the memory of kneeling on the floor of his quarters, his length hitting the back of your throat. Everything had become a blur since then. Despite the rules he had established for you, you would never admit to him he had such an effect on you, the fear of losing the sweet feeling of being owned, dominated, too intoxicating, too good.

You were not surprised by your feelings. You were a horny teenager, after all. Inexperienced, desperate, touch-starved. And there was something about the way Professor Lupin held himself that made you want to surrender completely. He was attractive, yes. But it was more than that. It was the kindness in his eyes that made you know you would be safe with him. His quiet strength telling you he could be in charge, take control, make it hurt good, make you cry, make you beg, all the while making you feel like he was the safest, comfiest place in the world. 

Remus, on the other hand, had not anticipated the thrill he would be getting from this, from you. For the rest of the day, he had found himself caught in a heady mix of anticipation and unease, his mind never straying far from what was to come this evening, from what he wanted to do to you, with you. The knowledge that what you were doing was ethically wrong, taboo, only seemed to amplify his anticipation. He was acutely aware that he was crossing boundaries he had set for himself long ago. Yet, the intoxicating allure of the forbidden made every stolen moment feel even more intense. 

Later that evening, in the silence of his quarters, Professor Lupin sat in his armchair, his fingers tapping an impatient rhythm on the armrest. He was nervous, a stark contrast to his usual calm demeanor. He felt like a teenager again, debating what he was going to wear. Did it really matter? He doubted his clothes would stay on long enough. Still, he opted for something casual- comfortable grey trousers, a simple shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and a loosely tied tie hanging around his neck. 

Your nervous knock on his door snapped him out of his reverie. He was by the door in an instant, pulling it open to reveal you standing there. Your eyes wide, and your cheeks flushed in a way that made his heart pound in his chest. You were dressed just as he had instructed, your short skirt revealing the laced stockings from that morning. The lack of any underwear was invisible to the eye but he knew, and the thought sent a jolt of excitement through him. Your blouse was slightly see-through, the white fabric revealing just a hint of the mark he had left on your back. You looked every bit the innocent schoolgirl that you were (or that you pretended to be), and yet undeniably alluring. 

"Come in," he beckoned, stepping aside to let you enter. His gaze was intense, almost predatory, but not unkind, silently communicating his pleasure at your obedience. He guided you towards the armchair positioned opposite to his own. 

"Sit," he ordered. You obeyed, your steps hesitant. You could feel his gaze lingering on you as you settled down on the chair, drinking in the sight of you in the outfit he had chosen. 

"You look beautiful," he finally said. There was a note of genuine admiration in his tone, an honesty that was impossible to ignore. You couldn't help but blush. You wanted to return the compliment, but you couldn't find your voice, suddenly too nervous to speak. Your reaction did not go unnoticed and he gave a soft smile, satisfied with the effect he had on you. 

"How was your day?" he began, his tone casual, as if you were merely two friends catching up yet his eyes were studying you intently. 

"Fine, Sir," you lied hesitantly.

He noticed the hesitation immediately and raised an eyebrow. "Just fine?" He continued, his voice holding a note of intrigue. "Did you eat properly?" he continued. 

You nodded, stuttering a "Mostly, Sir." 

"And did you pay attention in your classes?" He asked. He knew the answer would be no, but he wanted to see if you would be honest with him. 

You bit your lip, obviously flustered. "I...I couldn't concentrate...Sir."

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest. "Couldn't concentrate?" He echoed your words, a hint of concern coloring his tone. "Did you complete your homework, at least?"

Again, you hesitated for a moment before responding a timid "I tried to, Sir." 

There was a silence as he digested your words, his eyes boring into yours. "If this...arrangement of ours interferes with your academics, or your health, it will end immediately," he stated, his voice firm. "Do you understand?"

You nodded, a soft 'Yes, Sir' escaping your lips. 

"Good," he approved, letting the stern façade slip away, replaced by an expression of anticipation. He took a moment to appreciate the sight in front of him, the nervous girl in laced stockings, awaiting his command. 

"Come here," he beckoned, leaning back in his chair and patting his lap. The command went straight between your legs. You hesitated, not trusting yourself to stand, but you obeyed, moving to sit in his lap. His hand immediately settled on your waist, steadying you. The other hand rested on your knee, his fingers gently tracing the fabric of your stockings until they reached the line of lace adorning the middle of your thigh. He let out a soft, approving hum as he appreciated your obedience to his request. 

"Good girl," he praised, his voice lowering into a whisper, stirring a thrilling shiver down your spine. His hand slid further up your thigh, disappearing under your skirt. He let his hand wander even higher, his fingers ghosting over your bare skin, noticing the lack of underwear. You squirmed, your body arching instinctively towards him. Your movements elicited a soft gasp from him and you could feel his length hardening against you. 

The hand that was resting on your waist snaked up to your neck and then reached to gently grab your chin, turning your face towards him, his thumb grazing your lips, pressing into your mouth. You obediently started sucking on it, your eyes never leaving his. The sight of you, eyes wide and innocent, your mouth working over his thumb, made his erection twitch in the confine of his trousers. 

He slowly withdrew his thumb, trailing it across your cheek, before tangling his fingers into your hair, tilting your head back slightly. His lips hovered mere millimeters away from yours, your breaths mingling. "Are you going to be a good girl for me?" he asked, his voice barely more than a husky whisper. "Are you going to do as you're told?" 

You nodded eagerly, unable to trust your voice again. He let out a soft chuckle, seeing how flustered he could make you with only a few words and touches. He tugged on your hair, pulling your head back just enough to expose your throat. He pressed the softest kiss below your ear, before sucking a mark there. His. His mark. His territory. 

This was too much, you wanted more, needed more. You arched further into his touch, straining for a hint of contact, a fraction more pressure from his hand from his hand that had remained teasingly still under your skirt. But the man was not one to be rushed. 

"Now, now. Have we forgotten our manners already?" he gently scolded, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards in an amused smile. His movements stilled completely, effectively freezing you in your tracks. He savored the sight of you: flushed, desperate, and teetering on the edge. 

"Use your words, ask nicely," he urged you. 

His directive sent a rush of warmth through you. You were flustered, your words stumbling out in a breathless rush, "Please..."

"Please, what?" he prodded, a soft chuckle escaping him again. The pleasure he took from your desperation, from your submission, was evident on his face. 

Your lips parted as you drew a shaky breath, finally adding the one word he'd been waiting for. "Please...Sir," you stammered, your cheeks flaming as the words left your mouth. His eyes softened at your admission, his lips curling into a pleased smirk. Your squirms and tiny whimpers sent delicious jolts of pleasure through him, his hard length pressing insistently against you. 

His fingers began to move again, trailing further up your thigh, ever so teasingly close to where you wanted him most. "Keep your eyes on me," he instructed you, watching as you forced yourself to meet his gaze. "Stay still," he ordered, letting his fingers dance around the most intimate part of you. The most desperate whimper escaped your lips, a sound that was music to his ears, pushing him to the brink of control. You involuntarily arched into his touch, making him withdraw his hand abruptly. 

"Did I not tell you to stay still?" he reminded you, his voice a low growl in your ear. "Good girls listen, remember?"

"I...I'm sorry, Sir," you managed to stammer out. You felt his hand around your waist tighten, anchoring you firmly to his thigh, not allowing you the satisfaction of grinding down on his fingers. This was his game, his rules, and you would have to play by them. 

Satisfied with your answer, his hand disappeared beneath your skirt again, your breath hitching in anticipation. His fingers ventured further up, tracing the damp path his touch had created until one finger pressed at your entrance. His eyes studied your reactions, your pupils blown wide with desire, your chest heaving. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice steady despite the clear arousal in his gaze. 

"Yes...Sir," you panted, your voice trembling with need. 

His finger pushed further inside you, a low growl escaping his lips as he felt your warm tightness clench around him. His thumb began to trace lazy circles on your clit, his touch maddeningly slow. Your hands instinctively clenching onto his shirt, desperate for some form of stability. Your knuckles turned white with the effort of staying still. He set a steady rhythm that had you trembling, your body fighting the urge to move, to chase the pleasure he was so expertly teasing out of you. 

He continued his rhythm, bringing you to the edge of release only to stop abruptly. He was enjoying this too much, the control, the power, the trust you had placed in him. He could feel his arousal pressing into you, the tightness of his trousers now bordering discomfort. But he ignored it. This was about you, about taking care of you, making you feel good. 

"Sir..." you whimpered, the loss of contact making your hips buck up in search of his touch. But he held you steady, his hand on your waist keeping you in place. His rhythm was cruelly timed, just enough to build your anticipation before denying you release. 

"Please...Sir," you cried out, the words a desperate plea. 

He chuckled, his voice laced with an edge of amusement. "Poor thing," he cooed, his voice dripping with feigned sympathy. "Look at you, so needy. Can't hold on any longer?" 

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, ashamed of yourself for being so desperate, so vulnerable. But in this moment, it didn't matter. You were so close and you didn't want to dare reaching that sweet release without his permission. 

"Tell me, what do you want?" he asked, pulling his fingers away once more and smirking at the whimper of protest that escaped your lips. 

You were a blushing mess, your eyes pleading with him as you struggled to find your voice. "P-please...I n-need...," you stammered, unable to finish the sentence. 

"Yes?" he prodded, his voice calm and steady, a stark contrast to the evident arousal in his eyes. 

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before speaking again. "I-I need to...to come, Sir. Please..." you admitted. 

A low growl rumbled in his chest at your admission, the sound sending shivers of anticipation down your spine. "Good girl," he praised. His finger, slick with your arousal, ventured back inside you, this time adding a second one. You gasped at the stretch, the pressure, but he kept his pace slow, steady, letting you adjust to the feeling of being filled. 

"Relax," he instructed, his fingers moving in rhythm with the steady circling of his thumb over your clit. Your body obeyed, relaxing into the touch, and soon his touch was robbed of all gentleness, setting a pace that had you panting and moaning beneath him. The relentless assault had you whimpering, your mind focused on nothing but the waves of pleasure he was eliciting from you. 

"Let go," he encouraged, a soft whisper in your ear. "You're such a good girl...let go for me." 

With a final whimper, you let yourself succumb to the pleasure, your body convulsing in his hold as you rode out the waves of your climax. Your body arched into his touch, your hands clutching at his shirt. He didn't stop his movements until you slumped against him, completely spent. 

"That's my girl," he praised, a note of pride in his voice. He withdrew his fingers slowly, bringing them to your lips. His eyes met yours with a silent instruction. You obediently took his fingers into your mouth, cleaning them with your tongue, your taste mingling with the salty remnants of your climax. He watched you, his eyes darkening with desire as he took in the sight of you, flushed and sated and completely at his mercy. 

"I think," he said in a low, husky voice, "we should move this to the bedroom." You swallowed thickly, your pulse racing, but nodded, letting him guide you up on your feet. 

His room was a reflection of him. A large, comfortable looking bed sat in the middle, the sheets rumpled and inviting. Dark wood furniture filled the room, bookshelves lined the walls. There was a distinctly masculine scent to it, a mixture of parchment, leather bound books and something else, uniquely him. 

He led you to the bed, his hand warm and steady on the small of your back. You could feel his gaze on you, it was heated, predatory. "Sit," he commanded. You obeyed instantly, perching on the edge of the bed. He stood in front of you, your eyes at the perfect level with the bulge in his trousers. 

His hand moved to the back of your head, pulling you closer. "I want you to see what you do to me." 

His grip in hair tightened, the sweet pain making you gasp, your lips now mere centimeters from his erection clearly outlined against the fabric of his trousers. You could feel your cheeks burning at the sight. It was a powerful thing, to know that you could evoke such a reaction from him. It was intoxicating. 

He took a step back, his gaze taking in your shivering form. His hands reached out towards the buttons of your blouse, the touch making you flinch slightly. His fingers worked slowly, undoing each button with meticulous care. "Relax," he murmured, his voice a soothing balm as the material fell away, exposing your delicate skin. 

Reaching behind you, he unclasped your bra with practiced ease, discarding the fabric with a flick of his wrist. You trembled, exposed and vulnerable, yet you held his gaze. His hands traced down your sides, stopping at the hem of your skirt. "These," he stated, his fingers ghosting over the fabric of your skirt and stockings, "stay on." 

He gently pushed you, guiding you to lie down on the bed. His figure loomed over you as he positioned himself between your trembling legs. Your professor, still clad in his clothing, a cruel barrier between your bodies, pressed his hips into yours. The friction drew a sharp gasp from you, and you instinctively tried to hide your face in the crook of his neck. 

He was quick to catch you, his hand cupping your cheek, forcing your gaze back to him. "Look at me," he commanded. His hand slipped from your face, down to rest on your throat, his grip just tight enough to make you swallow nervously. 

He stilled, studying you under him, his thumb pressing ever so slightly into your soft skin. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice a mere whisper against the silence in the room. You wanted him to dominate you, to control you, even if this meant giving you permission to breathe. Your response was instinctive, your hand reaching up to press on his, urging him to tighten his grip. But he simply smirked at you, "Use your words."

You swallowed, your eyes flickering with a mix of fear and anticipation. "Y-yes, Sir," you stuttered, the honorific rolling off your tongue, only fuelling his arousal. His thumb pressed deeper into your skin, feeling your pulse there. 

Maintaining the pressure on your throat, he leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. The tenderness of the action stood in stark contrast to the dominance he held over you, the grip on your throat sending jolts of pleasurable fear through your body. Breaking the kiss, he moved to straddle you, his eyes never leaving yours. 

Deliberately, he began to loosen his tie, pulling it free from his neck and discarding it with a carelessness that had your breath hitching. He started on his shirt next, each button revealing more of his toned chest. Your eyes widened at the sight of his bare skin, your mind foggy with the realization that you were probably the first student to see this part of him. Sure, no other student had been on their knees gagging around him, but seeing this part of him, like this, felt different. It was more intimate. 

He caught your wandering gaze, the corner of his mouth curling up in amusement. He took hold of your hands, guiding them towards the buckle of his belt. You hesitated, your eyes darting up to meet his, silently seeking his approval. A low chuckle escaped his lips, "Go on," he encouraged. 

Your hands trembled as you reached for his belt, the metal clinking softly. Once you had the buckle undone, you moved to his trousers, pulling them open to reveal his black boxers. Your hands froze at the sight, your eyes looking back up at him, uncertain. 

"Keep going," he reassured you. You swallowed, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, pulling them down, letting his erection spring free. He shifted back, pulling his boxers off completely before settling back between your legs. His bare skin against your was a new sensation, a very welcomed sensation. It felt warm, strangely soft, and safe. 

His tip brushed against you, teasing your entrance, yet he made no move to push forward, causing you to whimper softly, your breaths coming out in short gasps. He stilled, his dominant façade melting away for a moment to reveal the gentle, kindhearted Remus Lupin you knew so well. He looked down at you, his gaze soft, "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. He lifted his hand to stroke your hair comfortingly. "We can stop at any time if you're uncomfortable." 

You loved that he was so caring, you felt safe, but you also wished he could read your degenerate mind. You didn't want him to be so gentle, so attentive. You wanted him to be rough, to use you, even if it was your first time. You shook your head- no, you absolutely didn't want to stop- a breathy plea of "Please, Sir," tumbling from your lips. Your hands came up to his shoulders, clinging to them in anticipation. The sight of you, so willing, so eager under him, had him teetering on the edge of losing control. 

He started pushing in, slowly, agonizingly slowly. A groan escaped his lips, the tightness around him was almost too much. You held your breath, the unfamiliar feeling of being stretched causing you to tense up. 

He paused, fully sheathed within you, giving you time to adjust to his size. His hand moved to your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek, "Breathe, love. Relax," he instructed gently. 

At your needy whimper, he began to move, setting a rhythm that had your breath hitching in your throat. Your small noises of pleasure spurred him on. "You feel so good," he groaned, his hand moving up to cup your breast before resting on your throat once more, pressing down just enough to slightly restrict your airways. 

You arched into him, your body begging for more. "H-harder...please, Sir," you begged, your words coming out breathlessly. His heart pounded in his chest at your plea. "Such a good girl for me," he praised, his movements becoming harder, driving you into the mattress. 

He moved his hand to your hair, tugging harshly to expose your neck. His lips descended upon your exposed neck, sucking a possessive mark into your skin. His other hand slipped down, tracing the line of your thigh, over the lacy stocking that clung to your skin. "Mine," he growled, the statement punctuated by a particularly harsh thrust. His grip tightened in your hair, pulling you closer to him as he buried himself deeper within you. His rhythm was relentless.  

Your breaths were becoming shallower, your body tightening around him. He could tell you were close, so close to that edge he had brought you to earlier. His movements became rougher, more aggressive as he began to lose himself in the pleasure of the moment. "Please..." you whimpered, your voice barely audible over the sound of your bodies coming together. 

His body was coiling tighter, the pleasure mounting as he thrust deeper and harder into you. "Come for me," he rasped out, his voice strained with the effort of holding himself back. Your body tightened around him, your moans growing louder as you neared your second climax of the night. "That's it, good girl. Let go." 

With a final thrust, he stilled inside you, his body tensing as he spilled his seed within you. The pulsing sensation was enough to send you over the edge, your climax washing over you in waves. You clung to him, struggling to catch your breath. 

He remained still on top of you, your bodies pressed together, intimately connected. "Good girl," he praised, his lips brushing against your cheek as he planted soft kisses on your flushed skin. 

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern evident in his voice as he looked down at you. Your body felt heavy, exhausted. You could only manage a weak nod in response, your eyes still half-closed. 

"Did I hurt you?" he pressed, his gaze lingering on the mark he had left on your neck. You shook your head. He watched you carefully, his eyes studying you for any sign of discomfort or regret. All he saw was exhaustion and bliss. 

Slowly, he pulled out of you, the action causing you to let out a soft whimper in protest, leaving you feeling oddly empty. You barely registered his movements as he got up from the bed, only becoming aware of his absence when you felt the warmth of a cleaning spell between your legs. Your skirt and stockings were discarded, your body tucked under the comfort of his bed sheets. 

He settled next to you, pulling you close to him, cradling you in his arms as he murmured softly "I've got you." He kissed your temple, the action tender and loving, a contrast to the intensity of what had just happened. As much as you loved being manhandled, owned, dominated, right now, this is what you needed. His heartbeat, steady against your ear, was the most comforting sound you had ever heard. 

You knew this was not going to last forever, the reality of things pulling you out of your post-climax bliss. You would have to go back to your dorm soon, pretend to be a good, innocent little schoolgirl. But for now, you allowed yourself to melt into his embrace, the warmth of his body lulling you to sleep.

[oldiesstationlover11607]

Daughter Part 2 - Torchbearer + Clancy + Nico!Daughter

Warnings: Anything Dema related

Word Count: 2343

A/N: WELCOME TO PAHT 2 BESTIES. Not much happens here but it leads up to stuff :)

PART 1 + PART 3 + Part 4 + Part 5

The name lingered in the air, heavy with implications. Clancy. The way Keons said it hinted at something significant, a spark of promise that tugged at my curiosity. But could I trust him? Trust anyone? My mind was still reeling from the encounter with my father and the fallout with Torchbearer. I didn’t want to add another layer of complication to my already tangled life.

“Why should I care about him?” I asked, my voice harder than I intended, but the walls I’d built around myself felt too fragile to let anyone in.

Keons stepped closer, lowering his voice as if afraid someone might overhear. “Because he’s not just another citizen, Y/N. He has potential—potential that could help us challenge the Order, challenge your father’s grip on Dema.”

My pulse quickened. The thought of someone with the potential to stand up against my father sparked a flicker of hope. Was it possible? Could this Clancy be the ally we needed?

“What do you mean by ‘potential’?” I asked, intrigued despite myself.

“He’s smart, resourceful. He’s been gathering information, making connections, and he’s not afraid to speak out against the silence that Dema enforces.” Keons’s eyes glinted with fervor. “But he needs someone to guide him, someone who understands what it means to defy Vialism.”

A part of me wanted to dismiss him, to turn away from this new temptation, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was a chance to turn the tide against the regime that had controlled my life for so long.

“Where is he?” I asked, my voice softer now, the walls beginning to crumble.

“He’s currently living in an apartment in the outer section of my district. I can take you there if you’d like?” Keons asked, glancing around as if worried my father’s eyes might still be watching.

I hesitated for a moment, torn between the impulse to flee from the memories of my past and the curiosity about this boy who might change everything. Finally, I nodded. “Okay. Let’s go.”

As we made our way through the streets, the weight of Dema loomed over me like a shadow. The air was thick with memories of my childhood, the lessons my father drilled into me about loyalty, obedience, and the futility of rebellion. Every step felt like a betrayal of those lessons, but I was no longer willing to be defined by them.

We reached the tall cement structure of the building Clancy was allegedly in. There weren’t many windows but the few that were there were either boarded up, closed, or had vultures perched outside. 

“Stay close,” he murmured, leading me down a narrow hallway lined with flickering lights. Once we reached a door at the end of the hallway Keons knocked three times before waiting. I could hear footsteps from the other side of the door before the latch on the lock clicked and it was pulled open,  revealing a dimly lit interior. 

Inside, the air was filled with murmurs and the scent of something cooking. As we entered a small room, my eyes landed on a young man sitting at a table, his unruly brown hair falling into his eyes as he scribbled notes on a weathered notepad. He looked up as we entered, and the moment our eyes met, something shifted in the air.

“Clancy,” Keons said, gesturing to me. “This is Y/N. She’s… well I’m sure you know who she is by now.”

Clancy’s expression shifted, a mix of surprise and caution flashing across his face. He set down his pen and leaned back in his chair, studying me with a blend of curiosity and skepticism. 

“Is it true? You—you’re N-Nico’s…” he asked, his voice steady despite the shock of the revelation.

I nodded, my heart racing as I braced for his judgment. “Yes, but I’m not here to uphold his legacy. I left Dema for a reason.”

Clancy’s gaze softened, and I saw something in his eyes—a flicker of understanding. “I get it. Dema’s suffocating. It’s designed to keep us all in line. But it’s hard to know who to trust when the whole city is built on secrets.”

“Don’t you think I already know that?” I scoffed. Keons flashed me a threatening look. While he was one of the less strict bishops he always acted like an uncle to me—which meant he would try to tell me how to behave (not that it worked). “I’m not here to play games,” I replied, feeling a surge of determination. “Keons believes you have what it takes to help us fight back.”

He raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism creeping back into his expression. “You really think we have a chance to fight back? To win against them? They have eyes everywhere. You’re risking everything by just being here.”

“And what do you propose we do instead? Sit around and wait for someone else to save us?” I countered, anger rising within me. “I spent my whole life under my father’s thumb, believing in his vision for Dema, but I can’t live like that anymore. I want to change things.”

Clancy studied me for a moment, his expression thoughtful. “I suppose I could help you.” He ruffled through the several sheets of paper spread across his wooden desk–each typed on with a typewriter. 

I took a deep breath, steeling myself for the weight of what I was about to say. 

“What do you know about the rebellion?” I asked, moving to sit next to him. Keons kept his composure as he stood in the corner in the room, his blood red robes standing as a stark contrast to the monotone cement walls which likely made the room cold at night. 

“You haven’t read my letters?” Clancy looked slightly surprised. 

“Letters?” I turned to Keons who nodded.

“Clancy has made quite a name for himself by publishing letters going against your father’s teachings. There have been several outbreaks of rebellion in the districts in the last few months as a result of his messages,” he explained, voice cold. Vialism had that effect on people, it made them darker, less human. Clancy’s eyes flashed with a mixture of pride and defiance as he shifted his gaze from Keons back to me. 

“I’ve been sending them out—smuggling them beyond the city's reach. People are waking up, realizing they don’t have to follow Vialism blindly. But the more I do, the more dangerous it becomes.” The weight of his words hung in the air. I could see the conviction in his expression, the way he spoke about rebellion as though it were inevitable, a flame that couldn’t be extinguished. It was contagious, that hope he carried. But the risk was just as palpable.

Keons, standing rigid in his blood-red robes, folded his arms, watching us both carefully. “The rebellion needs direction,” he said. 

Clancy’s eyes darkened as he thought about it. “You’re taking a huge risk being here. You know that right? If your father finds out, you’ll be—”

“I know the risk I’m taking,” I cut him off, the words sharper than I intended. “This isn’t about just me or my father anymore. This is about Dema and everyone trapped under its shadow.”

The room fell into a tense silence, broken only by the flickering hum of the dim overhead light. The concrete walls seemed to close in, making the weight of our conversation feel even heavier. Clancy looked down at his hands, tracing the edge of one of the papers before him, and then he spoke, his voice quieter but no less determined. His fingers brushed against the worn paper, the edges frayed from countless hours of reading, writing, and rewriting. He seemed lost in thought for a moment, weighing his next words carefully.

“We can't just run,” he finally said, his voice steady but low. “If we leave now, without a plan, without weakening Nico’s control first, it’ll all be for nothing. Dema will hunt us down, and you know they’ll find us. They always do.”

I looked at him, realizing the gravity of what he was saying. I had been so focused on the idea of escape—on breaking free from the chains of my father’s rule—that I hadn’t considered the consequences if we failed. Clancy was right. Dema’s grip extended far beyond the walls, and Nico had eyes everywhere.

“So what do you suggest?” I asked, leaning in. “We can’t stay here forever. They’ll figure out I’ve gone missing.”

Clancy glanced at Keons, and for a brief second, I could see the wheels turning in his mind. His gaze shifted back to me, sharp and calculating. “I’ve been having regular confessions with Nico. I’m getting close to convincing him to take me out of the walls. I’m sure I can find a way to sneak you across. Clancy’s words hung in the air, thick with a mix of hope and uncertainty. The idea of sneaking out of Dema through Nico’s own trust in Clancy felt like a dangerous gamble, but it also seemed like the best option we had. I could feel the tension in the room, a silent understanding passing between the three of us.

Keons spoke first, his voice careful but authoritative. “You realize what you’re suggesting is borderline suicide, Clancy. Nico is paranoid—he’s not going to let you waltz outside the walls without a hundred eyes watching.”

Clancy met his gaze, his determination unwavering. “I know, but we need to take that risk. If we can get outside the walls, even just for a moment, we can figure out the next step. We can start unraveling his control from the outside, where his reach is weaker.”

Keons turned to me, his expression a mixture of worry and resolve. “Y/N, this plan hinges on you too. If you disappear, Nico will know something’s wrong. He’ll start looking. You need to be ready to face whatever comes next.”

I felt a cold knot form in my stomach. This wasn’t just about me or Clancy anymore—it was about destabilizing Dema, risking everything to tear down the system my father had built. But there was no turning back now. I had to play this game carefully.

“We can’t just storm out,” I said slowly, trying to piece it together in my head. “Nico’s too smart for that. If you’re meeting with him, we need to make it look like everything’s normal. I’ll have to stay low for a while—make it seem like I’m still following his rules.”

Clancy nodded, his brow furrowed in concentration. “Exactly. If I can convince him I’m loyal enough to go beyond the walls with him, we can use that time to plan our real escape. But we’ll need to be precise. One mistake, and it’s over.”

Keons folded his arms, his eyes narrowing in thought. “How do you plan to get Nico to trust you enough to take you outside? He doesn’t trust anyone that deeply.”

Clancy let out a breath, running a hand through his messy hair. “I’ve been careful. Over the past few months, I’ve been subtly reinforcing his belief that I’m buying into Vialism, that I’m starting to see the ‘value’ in his teachings. I’ve planted the seed that I need more exposure to the ‘outer districts’ to understand the full picture.”

My heart raced as the plan began to take shape. It wasn’t foolproof, but it had the potential to work. Still, something gnawed at me. “What if Nico changes his mind? What if he decides you’re a threat after all and takes you somewhere else instead?”

Clancy met my eyes, and I saw the same doubt reflected in them, but he didn’t flinch. “That’s the risk we have to take. If we stay here, hidden behind these walls, we’ll never have a chance to fight back.”

Keons’s gaze flickered between the two of us, and for the first time, I saw the weight of his own conflicted loyalty. He was one of the few bishops who hadn’t completely lost his humanity, but he was still bound to the Order in ways neither Clancy nor I were. “I’ll do what I can to buy you time,” he said after a long pause. “But you need to be careful. If Nico even suspects for a second that you’re trying to manipulate him, he won’t hesitate to smear you.”

“I know the risks,” Clancy said, his voice steady. “But this is our only shot. If we can make it outside, I’ll figure out the next step.”

I could feel the weight of the decision pressing down on me. We were walking a tightrope, and the slightest misstep could send us plummeting into disaster. But I also knew that if we did nothing, we’d be doomed to live under Dema’s suffocating rule forever.

“What’s the timeline?” I asked, looking between Clancy and Keons. “How soon do we move?”

Clancy glanced at Keons, who gave a subtle nod. “It’ll take a few more meetings with Nico before I can convince him,” Clancy said, turning back to me. “But when the time comes, you’ll need to be ready. We’ll make it look like you’re still under Dema’s control, so no one suspects anything. When we’re outside, we strike.”

Keons leaned forward, his voice low and urgent. “And Y/N, you’ll have to act as though nothing has changed. Stay close to your father, play your part. Make him believe you’re still on his side, even if it kills you inside.”

I swallowed hard. It felt like I was stepping back into the nightmare I’d just escaped, but I knew it was the only way forward. “I can do that,” I said, though my voice shook slightly. 

Clancy gave me a brief, reassuring look. “We’re in this together. Once we’re outside, we’ll find a way to bring Dema to its knees.”

I nodded, feeling the weight of the moment settle in my bones. There was no turning back now. The plan was in motion, and we were about to step into the lion’s den—together.

//

REQUESTS OPEN

[kiragecko]

cherrystainedknuckles

I guess the only problem with being asked to take a “marie kondo approach” is that in order to find any fanfic that appears to be based in actual canon timeline and plot points and characterization (which does exist, and I’m not sure why fanon fans seem insistent that it doesn’t), I literally have to search for hours. I’m not joking, I consistently make fic rec lists, and I have to search for hours and hours for actual canonical basis. same thing with character tags on tumblr.

I’m not saying fanon fans have to stop enjoying fanon or making up their own content. I’m just saying that when the tags used for both fanon tim drake and canon tim drake are the same tag it just becomes incredibly annoying sometimes, and I understand why people who like to engage with canon (me, often) become frustrated

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I have definitely had periods where I got incredibly frustrated with fanon! Around 2019, I was wondering if I needed to leave the Batfandom, because it had been so long since I read a new fic where the characters felt 'right'.

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But, if you're willing to, I'd like you to consider what you mean when you divide 'fanon' from 'canon'. Because I struggle to find a hard line between the two, for several reasons:

1. Fandom is transformative. Every fanfic is going to have some interpretation of the source material. The line between what is too much interpretation and what is acceptable is different for every person. For me, I find it can even vary based on writing style or other odd things - lighthearted fic can have more noncanonical stuff in it than heavier fic, and still seem true to canon.

2. 'Canon' is subjective. I do not consider the movies or video games to be 'canon', and it annoys me when things from those creep into the fic I'm reading. (I'm okay with SOME Battinson.) Some aspects of the cartoons are okay. I consider precrisis Jason Todd to be an alternate reality version, but Donna's precrisis origins are more canonical than the dumb retcons. Wayne Family Adventures isn't my main version of the characters, but I'm not bothered if some elements show up in my stories. I'm ignoring most of the nu52, but I like Duke and I'm still watching this new Lian to see what happens. I doubt your divisions are identical to mine.

(Also, some things that I think of as 'fanon' have shown up in nu52 canon! I do not accept them as any more canon because of this.)

3. Most 'fanon' is based on canon. Canon Tim has weird sleep habits. 90s Dick is really lighthearted and joking around some characters in ways similar to fanon. Dick can canonically not be trusted to take care of himself if his mental health gets low enough. Jason likes classical literature. Etc.

These are exaggerated and/or twisted in a lot of fic, but where is the line where they stop being canon? I wouldn't bat an eye at a lot of this stuff, if it didn't show up SO OFTEN.

4. Most 'fanon fans' do know some canon. What line are you going to set where it will be 'enough'. And are they allowed to mention parts of the canon they haven't read yet? Is anyone allowed to talk about Dick's early Robin days, or only the tiny amount of people who have read the golden age stuff? A lot of the 'mistakes' I see are obviously made by people who have read ABOUT canon, but don't know quite how it fits together.

5. 'Canon' is FULL of contradictions. Yes, there are canon events. Yes, there is characterization that is consistent across 3/4s of comics. But. I'm still working on my sidekick timeline. I've devoted days to figuring out ages and passage of time. I've spent over a decade trying to figure out Jason Todd's motivations, and why Tim treats him the way he does. I've read all the 90s and early 2000s CANONICAL character assassination of Jason.

I spent years thinking that Donna's death was almost as foundational as Jason's, only to later discover that I had just happened to read the specific comics that focused on the fallout, and she only stayed dead for a short time. That happens to fans ALL THE TIME! We read a character summarizing an event we haven't directly read, and just accept it as what happened. But characters have biases, and not all writers care about accuracy.

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I've read some Tim Drakes that I consider to be almost entirely 'fanon'. And quite a few that were so scarily 'canon' that I got chills. (Not all of which were similar to each other.) But the vast, vast majority have fallen somewhere in the middle.

I definitely do not want the responsibility of deciding which ones count as 'canon'! And I think I would strongly dislike anyone who tried to decide for me.

Being frustrated is logical, and I empathize. But the original post was about the impossible expectations some fans feel. The expectation to read thousands of comics, synthesize all the contradictions, and come to conclusions that match the 'true fans'. That's a perfectly reasonable thing to be complaining about.

If that's what some fans are experiencing, of course they're not going to want to engage with canon! There's no way for them to succeed, so why should they even try?

When you join THAT conversation to discuss your frustration about fanon, it strengthens that perception. When you call them 'fanon fans' it emphasizes their belief that you don't think they belong. And rather than trying to change, it's more likely that they'll double down. Canon is full of gatekeepers, so they'll avoid it.

[thomas-is-my-name]

Some quick thoughts on Deltarune chapters 3 and 4 (spoilers for both!)

They were really good!

I think it's great how quickly and dramatically they broke the formula established by the previous chapters' self-contained adventures.

I especially like the way "late-game" elements suddenly got dragged into the mix, along with the blatant subversion of prophesied elements.

Hey do you guys think Toby Fox has read Homestuck.

The chapter 4 secret boss was a delight, obviously.

Tenna was also a delight. Admittedly kind of a mashup of Mettaton and Spamton, but there's nothing wrong with a good mashup.

There were a few patches of gameplay that were more annoying than fun. Luckily the optional fight for the shadow mantle was the only one where the frustration actually killed my interest in beating it.

I was surprised but not upset by Toriel's actions at the end of chapter 4. It strengthens the story to see some blatant bad parenting from her firsthand, rather than having it hidden in anecdotes and subtext. I would have been genuinely disappointed if we got through the whole game without her fucking up somehow.

Relatedly, I NEED Asgore to do something very cool very soon. His shtick is getting old. I imagine the game will end with Toriel and Asgore seeming about equally at fault for The Badness, but Asgore still has a lot of catching up to do.

The central cast are all still great and have great chemistry with each other. Back in 2018 I never imagined I would like Susie this much.

If I have one complaint about the writing, it's the tendency of characters to overexplain their conflict. Having characters spell out their arcs or backstory at pivotal moments has always been a thing in Toby's writing, and a lot of the time it works (Susie's piano story is a good example) but other times it just undermines the more subtle stuff that preceded it. Ralsei transforming into convenient objects during Tenna's game, and having an empty room, are good visual metaphors. But his monologue when we see the room was too on-the-nose.

The other writing point I'm uncertain about is Ralsei and Susie's conflict in chapter 4. I think they talked it out and resolved things a bit too easily considering the stakes. Even at the end, Ralsei still wasn't being honest, and Susie appeared to take it way too calmly. Then again, this all happened near the end and we haven't seen the fallout yet. It might all hit in chapter 5.

Speaking of Susie suffering... this really is the story of her being let down by everyone she trusted, isn't it? Noelle, Ralsei, Toriel, and probably soon Kris as well. She is going to be Mad and I can't blame her.

Ummm what else? The soundtrack is great as always. A lower banger density than chapters 1 and 2, but that's a natural consequence of the story getting less straightforward & cheerful and more unnerving/abstract/subversive.

oouuuughh the conflict between kris and the soul is so good. what is their deal. what is OUR deal. 2026........