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If the crucio scene was realistic.

I’ve been thinking about this moment for a little while now. The mc seemed to brush off crucio as if nothing happened. Like whatttt. Nooo.

This is really how it would go down.

Aneira (MC) would be in utter agony. looking for anything/one to cling onto.

Ominis would be freaking out and having ptsd flashbacks from hearing Aneira (MC) screaming. But he’s a gentle soul and he knows what it’s like to be struck by that curse so he would try his absolute best to comfort Aneira (MC) through it.

And Sebastian would be in total shock from seeing the true consequences to using curses. He would just freeze up.

All in all I think this scene would be utter panic and chaos in reality.

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Which primarchs do you think would be most into fucking their partners until they pass out from exhaustion.

Horus �� he’s insatiable, he’s amazing, and fucking you until you swoon into a sticky limp mess is concrete proof of both of those things. It makes him feel all powerful to lift you into his lap, letting you fall limp into his chest as he keeps fucking his way through the cum he’s already pumped inside you. He especially likes doing that with the Mournival, trading you between himself and his sons until it’s literally just passing around an unconscious Luna Wolf fleshlight.

Fulgrim — yes, but in very specific circumstances. He’s a complete perfectionist, even in bed — especially in bed — and if you pass out from exhaustion at the swelling crescendo of an orchestra, or just as he puts the finishing touches to the sculpture he’s carving (of you, while fucking you; he’s a multi-tasker) then he’s ecstatic. What a sense of timing! What artistic brilliance! This is why he loves you! When you wake up, it will be to a doting Primarch nuzzling your hair, telling you how fantastic it all was, and already aching to go again.

Lion — a little different from the others on the list, as he will do it by accident. The first few times he fucks you, he gets really overexcited, and he just doesn’t want to stop. You’re the best thing he’s ever felt; he had no idea that anything could be so amazing, so silky and wet and warm. He doesn’t want to stop, and so — being the entitled forest king he is — he doesn’t. He goes again and again and again, flipping you over to see how it feels from this angle, now this one, oh and now he wants your mouth again — until eventually you collapse from exhaustion. He panics a little (though he will deny ever having felt anything approaching concern) and you wake up after he dropped a bucket of ice water on you. Then he grabs you, shoves his face in your neck and sniffs deeply as he gropes along your body, checking for injury.

Then he grabs you by the scruff and shakes you. “Foolish mortal,” he snaps. “Why did you do that?”

Yes. Because him fucking you to black out is clearly your fault.

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If i dont [experience pathologically concerning sex act] within the next [arbitrary time period] im going to [federal agency watchphrase]

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“Fallout TV show retconned New Vegas-“

Stop. Listen to me. Look me in the eyes. “Canon” isn’t real. I’m completely serious. It’s whatever you want it to be. This franchise is rooted in games where you literally choose what ending you want based on your actions. Please, please for the love of god tell me that this whole time some of you have not been deciding that in games with multiple endings there is actually one “real” ending and all the others are “not canon.” If you really want my opinion half the fun of this whole series is that EVERY SEQUENCE OF EVENTS IS EQUALLY “VALID.” It’s time to kill the Todd Howard in your head and realize that literally no one is stopping you from choosing what to believe is part of this series. Incorporate every game, including the ones that never got made and only exist as details on the wiki. Or don’t. Decide that only the first two games and New Vegas are real and pretend 3 & 4 don’t exist. Create a new timeline in your head where EVERYTHING happens BUT Fallout 3 and yet Fallout 4 still fucking happens. Incorporate the fan theories you like and disregard the ones you don’t. Add your headcanons. Just MAKE SHIT UP. It doesn’t fucking matter! And that’s beautiful!!!! War never changes but goddamn canon sure will, but only if you believe!!

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i've got this sentimental heart that beats (but i don't really mind that it's starting to get to me)

It doesn’t take long to pick up on just how spitting mad the Vault Dweller is, being on the road together. 

She’s always been angry, since the first time they had the misfortune of running into each other, an undercurrent of righteous rage threading through each of her words to him. Before the observatory, all the anger had been directed at him or Moldaver, but now there’s a jaded tilt to everything she does, a building fury at the wasteland around them. 

And hell, why wouldn’t she be? Cooper certainly is, vengeful in a way that just about eats through the drugs he keeps himself loaded on. Janey and Barb keep him that way, a pot just on the brink of boiling over, carefully kept tucked away until he needs to use it. Most people are angry, these days, between the Brotherhood and Fiends, whether they’re trapped inside of a Vault or stuck outside of them. 

Little killer, he’d called her, back in the earliest days of their acquaintanceship. How right he’d been, he muses now, watching the heel of her boot cave in the thorax of an unlucky radroach that had scuttled into their path. She grunts as she kicks the creature, a frustrated little exhale from between her gritted teeth. 

read the rest on ao3 (major show spoilers)

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Lucy & Cooper: Eye to Eye

A/N: So short but needed it out of my head. Vague spoilers for the end of Fallout's first season, so be aware.

L & C: Eye to Eye

Vaultie doesn’t talk much for the first couple of days. 

Coop tries not to dwell on it—lot easier for him, lot safer for them, if she keeps her mouth shut. Just…well, hell, it’s one of those things that niggles at him, twitching in the back of his mind like a worm on a hook. Dumb fuckin’ fish that he is, Coop lets it draw him in. 

The ghoul gives her a once-over as they settle in for the night. Blood’s still crusted on her uniform, near the corner of her mouth, some of it flecked into her hair. A mottled bruise stretches across her cheek and up over her temple, purple at its center before paling to yellows and greens on the edges. Coop knows it hurts, but Vaultie doesn’t say shit. 

A noose and a prolonged stay on death’s door, dehydration, and irradiation hadn’t shut her up, but she’s sitting there, staring into the fire, all banged up and silent. 

Cooper chews a sardine ponderously. There’s no taste, not anymore, just the tension of flesh and little bones giving way beneath his teeth. He grunts before sliding the rest of the tray across to her. Vaultie doesn’t take it. He clucks his tongue. “Eat when then eatin’ is good, Vaultie. Get deeper into the Wastes and…well.” he shrugs as if the silence should be all the answer she needs. And it should be, but she just goes on staring with her huge doe eyes. 

“I’m not hungry.” Almost as an afterthought, she adds. “Thank you.” 

“Do what you like. You’re a big girl. And I ain’t your daddy.” 

The phrase jostles something in her head. Vaultie’s whole face screws up—nose scrunching, lips curling—and she opens her mouth as if to speak, only for it to snap shut. A muscle twitches in the corner of her mouth and it’s…it’s a hell of a thing. 

He doesn’t see his daughter in her face…doesn’t see Barb. He’s looking in a mirror. It’s two centuries ago, and he’s staring at himself—all offended dignity as he reads something unsavory in a script or listens to a suit wax philosophical about a battlefield they’ll never see.  

Vaultie must clock something about his reaction. All the stiffness leaves her posture. She just…deflates, eyes dropping. “I know that,” she says, voice soft. Not the “let me de-escalate this situation” bullshit she’d put on in Filly…just human. Very human and so tired. “I’m sorry—it was wrong of me to snap at you.” 

Coop almost laughs. He holds his arms out wide instead. “No harm done.” 

She goes back to her staring, back to her silence. Something howls off in the distance.  

Out of nowhere, and because it’s all just fuckin’ disorienting—the silence, having somebody around again—the ghoul says, “Reckon you’ll kill him?”

“Excuse me?” 

He picks nonexistent grit out of his teeth and spits. “Think you know exactly who I mean, sweetheart.” Vaultie cocks her head to the side. Firelight licks at her skin—it makes his hard lines harder, edges more jagged, but for her? She looks soft and young…a gross oversimplification. There’s steel in her eyes. Coop shrugs, flashing a smile that must look horrible. She doesn’t shrink back. “You find it offends your finer sensibilities and I’ll do it for ya.” 

“No.” Her tone leaves no room for debate. 

“Vaultie, that’s not a word I’m in the habit of hearing.” 

“It’s Lucy,” she corrects. “And I…said what I said.” The girl hugs her arms around herself. “He’s still my dad. I don’t want him…” Vau..Lucy pauses. Her brow furrows, “...Well, I guess I don’t know what I want yet. But…I have time.” 

“Less and less of it every day.” 

She screws up her nose again. “Maybe. But it’s my choice.” It’s the damnedest thing: the words just hang there for a second, silence broken by the crackle of the fire. And then she seems to actively register what she’s said. It’s Lucy MacLean’s choice. She smiles and nods—brilliant and bloodied and somehow still clean. “But…thank you for offering.” 

Like he’s suggested giving up his seat on the bus and not filling her daddy full of lead. Fuckin’ Vaulties…Coop shakes his head, “Anytime, sweetheart.”

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I love my loser boyfriend. I'd cause physical harm for him I think.

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i hate when theres a post where i agree w almost everything then theres a sentence i absolutely despise sneaked in the middle of it like. fuck you now i cant reblog any of that 😑

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"You're going to miss out on all this media because of the strikes!"

Y'all shot a whole-ass Batgirl movie and refused to release it so you could get a tax break, constantly cancel popular shows after a single season, and remove stuff from streaming while refusing to sell it on physical media, so maybe shut the fuck up.

I hope every major studio and streaming service crashes, all your executives end up permanently unemployed, and that all we're left with is indie media produced by people who can see beyond the dollar sign.

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regular lobsters start out as just little lobsters but spiny lobsters start out as these beautiful weird larvae that also evolved to ride on top of jellyfish. This jellyfish is too small though!!!

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i meant to be a casual fan but it ended up ruining my life

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solidarity between mean lesbians and bi sluts

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I like saying "I'll allow it" only in contexts where I have no power or authority

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We’ve been saying it for decades