#Ruin Dweller

[fatchance]

Cliff Dwellers, Arizona.

[lifewithaview]

Ella Purnell in Fallout (2024) The Target

S1E2

Maximus commandeers the armor of a fallen knight. Lucy's quest leads to encounters with Wilzig and a trip to Filly, where she meets The Ghoul.

*The scenes where Lucy Maclean is walking on a desert next to the ocean was shot in Namibia on the Skeleton Coast.

[prettyentertaining]

was listening to a podcast the other day where the american hosts had a revelation that lots of british music is bleak because it's climatically bleak here. and now i have had a revelation that people keep drawing magnus archives characters like american theatre kids for the same reason. the thing about jonathan sims is that he doesn't just become a monster, he also has to endure the grey misery of working in an office in london. he couldn't have cool body horror glowy green eyes on his face because then he might provide a shred of interest or excitement for somebody on the 8:17 train from east finchley

[quietcalligraphy]

"The Old Temple". (Hurbert Robert, 1788.)

"When I think about it, I must say that my education has done me great harm in some respects. I was not, as a matter of fact, educated in any out-of-the-way place, in a ruin, say, in the mountains – something against which in fact I could not have brought myself to say a word of reproach. In spite of the risk of all my former teachers not understanding this, I should prefer most of all to have been such a little dweller in the ruins, burnt by the sun which would have shone for me there on the tepid ivy between the remains on every side; even though I might have been weak at first under the pressure of my good qualities, which would have grown tall in me with the might of weeds."

(Franz Kafka. Diaries. July 19th, 1920.)

[cavedwellermusic]

Poison Ruïn – Confrere (2024)

Matt looks at Confrere, the new album from Philadelphia based black metal tinged punk/post-punk act Poison Ruïn, released August 2nd on Relapse Records.

Poison Ruïn have gone full genius alchemist with this release as Confrere blends the best parts of black metal’s self-serious aesthetic and production choices with the rollicking hooks and energy of garage punk. A small release in terms of track and listen length, what is lacks in length, it repays in droves with just how good it is. This band is currently without peers and or without equals in terms of what they release.

Read Matt's full review and listen to the album:

[cosmik-homo]

Lying in bed crying about Alfred's fucked up identity situation

[cpunkbubby]

I dont. Fully get titles but theyre very fun 2 come up with

[chaoticvictorianspirit]

look I know my tumblr pretty much looks like a stranger things fan blog (and has been like that for months now) but like... I don't even like the show, really. any time I get reminded of pretty much anything that happens post season one I realise over and over again how many creative decisions I outright hate and how angry I got watching the later seasons. but also the fanon has me in a chokehold crawling on the floor licking its boots. the version of stranger things created by gay strangers in my phone sustains me, it's nutritious, I eat it for every meal, I breathe it, I bathe in it, I roll around in it like a pig in a mud pit. it clears my skin and folds my laundry. it also has pretty much nothing to do with the actual show and I love that for her. the gifs, the fics, the headcanons, love them. the show itself? wouldn't shoot her point blank execution style but also wouldn't call an ambulance if she got hit by a truck you get me?

[anshares]

Xian tag comments are basically you saying whatever you want in the tags ahahahahahah @ronanroenevan

[phoenix-creates]

Genshin Impact, Both the Game and the Community, Cannot Hide Their Colorism or Racism Anymore

This is going to be a long read. I refuse to stay silent.

I've played Genshin Impact on and off since 2021 when I was first introduced to it. I drew fanart but rarely participated in the fandom, as Genshin has one of the most toxic and racist fandoms that takes pleasure in driving off content creators of color, perpetuating racism within the communities, as well as harassing and threatening people who dare try to speak out about it. But, for as racist as the fandom is, what can I expect from them considering Hoyoverse as a whole has it's own set of racial problems.

It is clear from the release of Sumeru to the recent teasers of Natlan. Hoyoverse has colorism problems and racism problems and we're going to take a look at them here.

Before we begin, I want to take a moment to say that there will be a lot of information presented in this post. I ask that you read carefully and be considerate of every talking point presented.

Now, let's talk about Sumeru.

Sumeru, the fourth region released in Genshin Impact, draws a lot of real world inspiration from Middle Eastern culture, with even the geography mimicking the real world geography of China and India. The characters, music, food, and geography all draw inspiration from various different real world cultures, and just from a few glances, it is easy to see exactly where and what cultures they’re taking from.

Candace for instance, from name to appearance, draws inspiration from kandakes, which was the title of a queen mother in Nubian kingdoms. Even her accessories, her talents, and her weapon take pieces from other aspects of Egyptian culture.

Cyno, another character from Sumeru, is dressed in garb that mimics depictions of Anubis, the ancient Egyptian God of funerary rites and protector of graves. As with Candace, his talents and abilities reference Egypt.

Even Sethos, a newcomer to the game and also a Sumeru character, has clothes, skills, and a name that alludes to either the Egyptian God Set, the god of the desert and storms, the Egyptian pantheon in general, or the Ancient Egyptian King Seti/Sethos.

These three characters are tanned, anyone can see that, but if you take a closer look you'll notice that they're all around the same shade. Considering all three of them take inspiration from real world Egyptian culture, it is insane to me that they're all a similar shade of the same slightly tanned tone. It is unacceptable that they're all a shade or two away from white when all of them has some aspect of Egyptian culture in their character.

To further shed light on Sumeru's racist sins, there exists a long standing conflict in Sumeru regarding The Eremites, a race of people descended from the ancient, now-collapsed civilization who primarily live in the desert. These people are the enemies in the game. You read that right. The desert dwellers are the enemies and not only that, but unlike the treasure hoarders who disappear into smoke when defeated, the Eremites collapse to the ground like the Fatui.

Why do the Treasure Hoarders, a band of pale skinned thieves, get away but the Eremites, treated as if their culture is lesser, presumably die?

Worse than that, there is a long quest in Sumeru where a white academic from Sumeru spends nearly the entire length of the quest insulting an Eremite. The quest I'm referring to, Golden Slumber, is a multi part quest that has the Traveler accompanying a researcher named Tirzad who is exploring the ruins in the deserts of Sumeru. Throughout the quest, Tirzad spends most of his time complaining and insulting Jeht and Jebrael, calling the latter an uneducated brute whenever Jebrael tries to do anything. And the Traveler is no help, with dialogue options remaining neutral instead of rightfully telling Tirzad to stop.

What we have here is a white man stereotyping a man of color and assuming things about himself and his race due to his own racist biases.

Many players have called out the racism in Tirzad’s actions and this quest overall, but Tirzad at multiple times fails to see the error of his ways and leads the group into life threatening situations simply because he can’t believe an “uneducated desert brute” could possibly know more than him.

I could sit here and pick apart more aspects of Sumeru and it's failures to properly represent the culture it's using, but I want to get into the inciting incident of this entire post, which is Natlan.

When the teaser for Natlan was released, it was just another failure on Hoyoverse's part. To understand why, we can break it down into parts, starting with the character leaks:

Mavuika, presumably the pyro archon, with a name inspired by Māori fire deity Mahuika.

Ororon, a mispelling of the Yoruba god Ọlọrun, the creator deity in the Yoruban pantheon.

Kinich, named after the Mayan god of the sun.

Iansan, another character whose name comes from the Yoruba pantheon.

Xilonen, this name coming from one of the aspects of the Aztec goddess of maize and the goddess of sustenance.

Kachina, name inspiration directly lifted from the religious beliefs of the indigenous Pueblos people.

Chasca, name coming from the Incan goddess of dawn and twilight.

Citlali, a name derived from Nahuatl, which is a language from ancient Mexico.

Are you seeing something interesting with these characters?

Hoyoverse has shoved multiple different cultures under one region and whitewashed every character. They did the bare bones work of lifting names and small design inspirations from so many different cultures and using them in the laziest way possible. If not pale white, the few characters who are tanned are a mere shade darker than Cyno and almost the same shade as Kaeya. There is nothing darker in sight with any of these characters.

Cultural representation matters. If Hoyoverse can explore the cultures of Germany (Mondstadt), China (Liyue), Japan (Inazuma), and France (Fontaine), it is insane that the same sort of love couldn't be given to both Sumeru and Natlan, both nations where we should rightfully be seeing more people of color.

(Side note, we should be seeing more people of color in the previous regions as well, even as NPCs. Bi-racial people exist all over the world, not just in America. Quick google searches will show what I mean.)

I can already hear the arguments against me.

"But Hoyoverse is an East Asian company! They don't need to/don't care about representation!"

Oh really? Because Lilithgames, the company behind Dislyte, is a company based in Shanghai, China. And when you compare the variety of skin tones of Dislyte to Genshin, you cannot make the argument that a company based in Asia doesn't care about diversity. Hoyoverse does not seem to care, but don't make it a blanket statement for all companies.

Still not convinced? Bluepoch, a small Chinese company behind Reverse:1999, is responsible for this character:

Smite, a game published by Hi-Rez Studios and Tencent Games (A Chinese publisher), has a character based on Olorun. And they did just fine in their depiction of him:

And the director behind Tekken 7, Katsuhiro Harad, shared concept art of an Arab fighter they want to add to the game. Why? Because he wanted to make sure he was respecting Middle Eastern culture and asked for feedback to see what can be improved. He posted this concept art and asked the community for input to make Shaheen as accurate as possible:

But sure. Asian companies don't care.

"It's a fantasy world! It doesn't have to 1-to-1 mimic the real world!"

Oh really? So why are characters named after real world cultural figures, why is the food based around real world food, why are outfits somewhat inspired by real world garbs then? If you're gonna draw inspiration from something and use the real world in your game, the world is a diverse place. It is not all white nor all slightly tanned.

"You can always stop playing the game."

I could, but that would mean letting them win and get away with their racism. It would mean letting Hoyoverse think this is the norm instead of the outlier. It would mean staying silent during injustice. I can do a lot of things, and exposing their issues is one of them.

"It could be difficult for them to implement dark-skinned characters."

It actually is not. Look at all the examples from other games and companies discussed previously. It's not hard. Plus, take a look at Wriothesley's concept art:

Originally, he had a different skin tone. So characters with different tones existed but got lightened and changed over time.

"I don't want [insert race here] in my fantasy game/it doesn't matter!"

Honey, you're just racist.

"Wow, I get it now. This is bad. What can I do to help?"

There are several ways:

Use Surveys and Feedback when you log into Hoyoverse games. This problem extends past Genshin, into HSR and ZZZ (a game whose ads promote itself with rap music and yet noticeably lack playable dark skinned characters so far). Use the platforms that they gave us in order to spread the word. Tell them that you're dissatisfied with the cultural appropriation and disappointed in Hoyoverse for taking certain cultures and whitewashing them. Email genshin_cs@hoyoverse.com if the feedback buttons aren't working for some reason.

Stop putting money into the game. A lot of companies listen when there's monetary loss involved. Show them that you mean business and stop supporting their business. You can also leave a one star and a review with your thoughts on their cultural appropriation.

Amplify the voices of those speaking out. There are plenty of posts out there better worded than mine that go in depth into a lot of these problems. Multiple voice actors of all ethnicities and backgrounds have spoken up about Hoyoverse’s injustices as well (many of the VAs from the game, including the voices of Albedo, Sucrose, Layla, Beidou, and even VAs for smaller NPCs have spoken out). When you see those posts, share them. Spread the word. Get those voices out there.

Shut down those silencing others. For as many posts out there trying to bring more light to this issue, there are others who try to shut us down. They continue to be racist and double down that nothing is wrong with Natlan. Do not let them get away with this. Show them this post or the myriad of other posts that exist. Tell them to shut the fuck up. Call them out. But don't let them silence anyone else.

If you've made it to the end and learned something, I'm glad. If you've made it to the end and want to further support me or anyone else in this fight, share this post and others like it.

Thank you for reading.

EDIT: As noted in this ask, the naming conventions of characters from other regions as opposed to Sumeru and Natlan. I’ll be adding a separate reblog to this post with a full list of naming conventions from each region.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I’m BEGGING You 🙏🏼

Write de Delete Pressure ending

'I've got him now..I can put an end to this.'

That was all you could think about as you stared down at the monster, the fishman you once bartered with, seeing how utterly pathetic he looked.

Finally.

Finally.

You've caught him in his latest hideout, and this time there was no escape for him.

It's quite ironic considering you were the one who's been running away from monsters for so long, never having the means to fight back. All you could do was hide and pray that they wouldn't find you.

After having lost count how many times you've perished to the anglers, Pandemonium, and all the others...you figured Sebastian, your "only friend", would be your safe haven from those savage creatures.

But after someone in a previous team accidentally triggered their recently-purchased flash beacon in his shop....you realized he wasn't any different from them.

Not after he nearly choked them out, breaking the tool with a spiteful warning to never try that again--as though convinced they did it on purpose--before throwing them to the ground.

They died instantly, blood pooling all around their head, and the only thing Sebastian was concerned about was needing to move his shop to a new hideout.

Oh, and of course, the items they left behind after their corpse was retrieved.

Then the next time you met him, somebody else tried to do the same thing with intentions to annoy him....and he shot them point blank in the chest. No warnings. No mercy.

That's right.

He had a shotgun hidden beneath his coat. Something that Urbanshade wouldn't dare allow you to possess lest they detonated your gear for even looking at one.

But now that they've given you clearance to eliminate him by whatever means necessary--so long as it was only used to target him and not to escape or damage any property--you were currently holding that same weapon in your hands.

It had one shell left in the chamber, as Sebastian used up the rest during his pursuit of you.

He must have caught wind of the orders the overseers gave out, as he closed his shop and became completely fed up with your attempts to reach the crystal.

Now that Painter was no longer able to stall your progress after you destroyed him for good, he was next on the hit list.

Eyefestation was on it, too, but she would be...difficult to contain. She was the least of your worries.

He, on the other hand, could be easily cornered if you were persistent enough.

The bastard tried playing dirty, at first--sending anglers after you, getting Eyefestation outraged enough to fry your brains, and even distracting you so a Wall Dweller could feast on your body. All before you could even reach Door 50.

You were more than angry.

You were livid at these cheap tricks of his, constantly yelling his name and daring him to come face you himself....and indeed he did at some points, armed with nothing but his gun, claws, and teeth.

True to his document, he was surprisingly fast for his size, able to crush you in a vice grip with his tail, leave deep gashes in your flesh, shoot you point-blank, and even throw you into the dark pits of the ruined facility.

As expected, you came back again and again, finding new ways to outsmart him.

This time, you had the crystal in your possession and repaired the cables in the ocean floor, but your mission wasn't over yet.

Sebastian refused to let you leave, and HQ demanded one final task from you: kill him, lest he sabotaged the submarine that was your only ticket out of here. They refused to send it until the deed was done.

While it became difficult to leave even a scratch on him at first, you managed to wound him more and more every time with makeshift weapons like planks with nails or anything you had at your disposal.

Now it was all finally coming to a head, as you've got him cornered, seeing his clothes shredded and his flesh bloodied from all the fighting.

And while you weren't in any better shape yourself, with your uniform a bit tattered and the crystal's container bearing scratches from his claws..he was in a far worse state.

He wasn't even trying to fight you anymore.

He just curled up in the corner of the room, hand pressed to his chest--his white shirt bleeding red--and the bandage on his third arm having become undone, revealing a reopened wound.

"You've lost, Sebastian." You huffed. "This ends here."

"....gh...ngh...."

You removed your scuba mask so he could see the fury in your eyes, and how they also stung with betrayal. It consumed your heart, leaving an ache greater than the physical ones you felt in your legs.

Once, you liked him, his company, and his attempts to make jokes and light out of grim circumstances.

Once, you considered him a friend and a humble shopkeeper who was just trying to help those who used to be like him: prisoners wrongfully incarcerated such as yourself.

Once, you could never imagine Urbanshade giving you the orders to kill him AND be willing to follow through with them.

That's all changed, however.

"They were right..you're nothing but a goddamn animal." You spat, watching the way he shuddered and gnashed his teeth. "You're just like the rest of them. You're all killing machines."

"...no.." Sebastian managed to choke out, looking up at you through his matted black hair, wheezing. "D-Don't..say that..I'm nothing like them.."

"Maybe you aren't a complete savage, but at least they didn't steal from me. At least they didn't act like they were my friend."

"......"

"Even Painter was honest with me about his intentions. He knew you weren't gonna come back for him..so I did him a favor. And he thanked me, Sebastian. If only I could've put you out of your misery just as easily."

"Go..to...to hell.." He clutched his torso, his jacket slipping off his shoulders as he coughed. "Go to hell.."

"I'm afraid that's where we're both heading." Frowning, you could feel your finger sliding towards the shotgun's trigger. "It's waiting for all of us. No matter how innocent or guilty we are. But unfortunately for you...I'll be a little late to the party."

He said nothing to that, but when you were about to speak again, he mumbled something. You tilted your head, wondering why he was suddenly looking off into space. "What did you say?"

Blinking several times, you grew alarmed as he suddenly raised his hands up to his face. Then you heard the sniffles, and a drawled-out whine that sounded like something from a wounded animal, and it was all coming from the utterly broken and defeated sea creature before you.

"...m...mom..?"

"Huh?"

"Are you there? I...I-I don't wanna die.."

Was this another trick of his? To feign weakness so you could let your guard down?

That's what you wanted to believe, and yet...as he began to cry and curl in on himself, you started having doubts that he could be this manipulative when he was so, so weak and near death.

"M-Mom..everything hurts..I-I need you...please..please, please, please..help.." His voice broke, tears dripping onto the concrete floor as he tugged on his hair and lure. "Ayudame..ayudame.."

Now he's lost it.

His sobs were the only sounds that filled the room, aside from the humming lights and sounds of the sea's pressure constricting the hulls of the blacksite.

You hesitated, suddenly feeling an overwhelming sense of guilt.

How could you have forgotten?

He's mentioned a family several lifetimes ago, back when you were a naive expendable eager to have somebody to chat with who recalled their humanity. At one point, after obtaining his document, he began opening up to you a bit more about his past. Before Urbanshade and their cruel experiments.

He had a mother and siblings...his father figure was likely absent, but you knew it was rude to question that. So you let him talk about them and what he remembered. He'd never know for sure if they moved on from his "execution", or even if they were still alive at all today...

Either way, the worst feeling for him was that they'd never know he was found innocent of those crimes that got him on death row. And even if he was somehow freed...what would they think of him?

Probably as a monster, no doubt.

Yet despite it all, he cried out for his mom anyways, wanting nothing more than to be in her arms again. He had given up on attacking you and spewing vile threats in your face.

What was the point? You would just come back over and over again, and he'd run out of ideas eventually.

He was just so tired of fighting.

He wanted it all to stop.

Watching how quickly he fell apart in front of you constrained your heart, and for a moment you wondered if there was another way out of this situation--a way that didn't require one having to kill the other...

Until your diving gear began to beep.

'Shit..' Suddenly you were snapped back to the cold hard reality, as your eyes shifted to the broken experimental scrambler on the ground. It was still sparking, showing signs of irreversible damage.

Now that it no longer blocked out any communications from Urbanshade, the cameras could see you and their target in the same room together, with you hesitating to complete the mission and take the shot.

And to them, hesitance showed disobedience...and they've told you that was cause for immediate execution.

You were still an expendable. Someone they can replace in a heartbeat.

The noises seemed to snap Sebastian out of his own trance, as he looked up at you with tears staining his scaled face, blood leaking from his mouth.

He could only stare at you with resignation.

"I'm so..tired.."

Regrettably, you nodded and raised the shotgun, forcing your hands to be steady. You couldn't afford to waste anymore time, not when the beeping had gradually slowed down, allowing you to focus.

Without needing to exchange further words, you two knew the true enemy here..the one who put you both into these horrible, horrible situations in the first place..

But unless you act now, they were just going to find someone else to finish the job.

No.

"I'm sorry, Sebastian. I'll make this quick."

It had to be you, as much as you wish it wasn't you.

If only you met him under better circumstances.

He just nodded and closed his eyes.

And you fired.

You looked away as soon as his body slumped to the floor, already growing nauseous over what you've done. The shotgun fell out of your hands, landing with a loud clatter, but it was finally over

He was gone. Silenced forever.

The beeping stopped completely, before you heard HQ come back online with one last message:

"Z-13 has been eliminated. Good work. Now leave the weapon on the floor and head through the marked doors that will lead you straight to the submarine dock."

Somehow, your weary legs managed to move towards the green-lit doors on their own, and during your long walk to the dock, the crystal's container thumped against your pant leg.

Even when you finally got to rest inside the submarine as it took you away from the blacksite, you felt as though....you didn't even deserve to rest after what you did. You felt like you've committed a crime worse than the one that put you here in the first place.

They made you take a life to earn your freedom.

But why did it have to be his life?

Was there truly no other way?

[slash-me-please]

Hi! Can I request a Fem!Reader x Pennywise Smut where pennywise uses his tounge to fuck reader?

Literallsfsdfsdfsdfsdsdsd yes you can. I haven't written for Pennywise in a GRIP.

I present to you:

Drops from a Nectarine

warnings: fem receiving oral, dub!con, cunnilingus

Sun pours in through the open shades fallen onto your bay window. Eyes fluttering open with an exasperated moan, you turn your head to the side to get away from your offender. They do not follow. Your head sinks into the plush, microfiber sheets of your full-sized bed and for once, you decide to stay. Your bliss isn't taken advantage of, dread filling your chest as the overwhelming feeling of an uninvited visitor overcame the morning euphoria.

"Good morning, Bee." He tumbled over his words. That fucking clown. You tense, legs curling up and away from the foot of your bed.

"Go away Clown..." You murmured, voice shaky and unstable as his gloved hands pressed down on your sheets. He was covered in a thick layer of grime, as he was always. The sewers were no place to live, and a sewer-dweller had no place in your room. But still, he insisted, mimicked knuckles spreading and pulling against your clean sheets and effectively ruining them from further use. You'd have to burn them later, it was the only way.

"Buzz... Buzz... Buzz..." His head twisted rapidly towards you, faintly jingling as he crawled up your bed with a twisted grin. Pennywise's puffy red lips dripped with saliva, you watched a little too long to be the perfect victim. "You always know where to sting." You turn away as he lunges, towering over your frail, be it in comparison, body. Your limbs begin to shake with fear, anticipation as he watches over you with a blank expression.

"Why are you here Pennywise." You ask, it comes as a plea, and you fall deeper into the plush safety of your dirtied sheets. He gives you a smile, a fake one, which has your stomach twisting with something evil. "I am... hungry." He replies to your question as if it had been a simple answer, not one you had tossed and turned for the last few nights. "I do not fear you."

Pennywise grips you by the thighs, claws breaking through makeshift gloves to rip apart your underwear to shreds. "I've had my fill on fear... I am satiated." He giggles, head tilting downwards to glare at your exposed cunt. "I need a different type of food." And so he leans, his claws pushing your legs backwards and into a position which had you gritting your teeth. One that would have him giggling his crazy little giggle again.

With that, his tongue extends and begins to lap at your swollen folds. He holds you down as he tortures you with a callous tongue. His head ducks further, spreading them open to reveal your aching clit- which he nudges with his large tongue again. Your hands find his hair as you arch against the bed, pushing your heat against his dripping tongue. He tortures your clit with a cruel precision, one that has you knowing he's racked up quite the body count in his thousands of years alive. You cannot bring yourself to care, a whimper falling from bitten lips.

"I told you not to come back!" You sobbed, legs involuntarily squeezing around his head. And his head drops further with that, tongue parting you to dip inside your warm heat. Pennywise moans against your cunt, eyes rolling back and teeth enveloping the lower part of your pelvis. It felt as if he was eating the soul inside of you, yourself slipping through the closed fingers of your spirit and falling into his mouth where you'd meet your sweet demise. His tongue pistoned in and out of you, sucking in your wetness with loud slurps and squelching. You'd never been eaten out in such a way, eaten like he wanted more than just your sex. Like he wanted you.

"God!" You cried, pushing against his head as his claws drew blood from your skin. It rolled down your thighs and into your sheets, the same ones you had ran your fingers through and grabbed. Pennywise jingled for a moment, tongue rubbing against the roof of your heat as you thrusted your hips against his mouth. "Mm close!" You gasp, fingers rubbing against his head as his hands hold you in place.

Pennywise chose not to respond, instead his chest rumbled with a feral growl as he pushed his tongue impossibly deep into your cunt, a gloved thumb moving to rub circles around your clit. And with a loud whine, you released into his mouth. He drank you in like you tasted better than any blood that had ever touched his tongue. Back curled over your pelvis as he held your heat flush with his face, his eyes were rolled back and his teeth had sunk deep into your skin. Fear erupted with the blossomed pleasure which ran hot through your veins and Pennywise audibly moaned.

"Let go..." You gasped, pushing lightly at his hands. You already wanted to go back to sleep. Luckily he obliged, pulling away from you and licking his lips with a lewd glare. It didn't take long before he dropped your legs and crawled over your shaking body. You pressed your hand against his chest and sighed. "You'll be back?" You mumble, and he slots his thumb between your lips. "Can't get enough of this cunt..." You release a hollow giggle, nipping at the tip of a gloved finger and pushing Pennywise away. He watches you slip underneath the covers and stays until you fall back into a restful sleep.

He'll be back.

[chiscaralight]

#7 on fishy’s failed kinktober! includes: nsfw sukuna x fem reader, primal play, outdoor sex, fingering. unprotected sex, breeding, not tf!sukuna but he’s still pretty big, reader gets referred to as bunny once

you’re running as fast as your legs can take you. you’re out white sundress is ruined from hooking on the branches obscuring your path as you make your way deeper and deeper into the forest.

the deep laugh behind you shakes your bones down to the core. the adrenaline is coursing through every vein in you, propelling you forward to escape the man behind you.

sukuna thinks it’s adorable that you think you have a chance. his steps are slow, almost lazy as he watches you weave through the terrain. your feet are probably getting insanely sore, but he admires your determination. too bad he’s already set his mind on you, his prey, and he’s starving for a fill of you.

and you’re trying to muffle your cry when you trip over, protecting your face with your arms as you collide with the ground. no. you can't die here. you have to get out.

but it’s already too late. this large being chasing you for minutes is already closing in.

you’re backing up despite the pain shooting up your leg. his smile is sinister as he steps closer, eyes darkening when you realize you're trapped between him and a large tree.

even if you weren’t burdened by the damage on your leg, he’s far too close for you to escape. sukuna crouching in front of you, a large hand gripping your chin as he forces your eyes onto him. your predator.

and it’s in these moments that you take your time to observe the evil that has been chasing you. from the way his hair is slightly illuminated by the moonlight to the intricate markings around his bare chest and body. you keep your eyes trained directly on him, attempting to stand your ground.

but sukuna is not like you. he can smell the salt in your tears, the fear emanating from your body. but most importantly, he can smell the arousal that’s starting to seep from your body.

even in the face of death, you still dare you think such horrible thoughts? wonderful.

you’re the kind he especially likes, unable to control the primal urges built into your dumb human system.you've also managed to come much farther than he ever thought you would, and that is deserving of a bit of praise, no?

he could have killed you long ago, but sometimes, it’s more fun to play the waiting game. after all, he wouldn’t have the opportunity to dip his fingers into the essence that’s leaking from your cunt and see you cry on his fingers, struggling to get away from the pleasure he’s drilling into you.

nor would he have been able to press you into the ground like he is now, bullying his large cockhead into your sopping hole. your screams and moans reverberate through the dense collection of trees, scaring birds into the sky and small forest dwellers into their hiding holes.

your pussy is squeezing down on his length, almost begging him to not go. his thrusts are quick and sharp, striking your cervix with harsh blows each time he sheaths his entire length inside you. your nails are digging pathetic into the large expanse of his shoulders, a pathetic attempt to keep him locked in place as he fucks you senseless into the grass.

but it’s the way you ask him, beg him; the one who terrorized you, the one who only plan was to kill you, to cum inside that flicks that switch in his malevolent brain. all the thoughts of ending you washed away in an instant as he only has one goal now. to breed you.

and he’s pumping you stupidly full with his release, trapping every last drop in you until he’s perfectly sure he’s done. he’ll drain his balls completely in you as you whine into his skin, sensitive from the brutal fucking you just endured.

it’s not often that sukuna changes his mind, but he has mentally revoked his plans to kill you. he’s claiming you as his, carrying you over his shoulder like a sack despite your weak protests.

in all his years, not a single concubine has made him feel the way you did. even just the thought of fucking you once more, even for a moment is causing blood to rush to his aching cock, nasty thoughts flooding his mind about all the ways he’ll bend you to fuck you stupid, pumping you just right so you can give him the perfect heir he’s always desired.

how could he ever let you go? your pussy is dizzying, perfect. even for him; the king of curses, is a large feat. so he’ll keep you as his for as long as he wants and breed this pussy as many times as he pleases. all you have to do is sit there and take it, like the good bunny he’s made you out to be.

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (12) - In the Beginning

Chapter summary: Astarion meets up with Ava and it triggers something deep within him.

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Astarion's POV. Mention of masturbation. Dissociative episode. Bloodlust.

Word count: 4.8k

Series Masterlist . Ao3

He should have known this would happen eventually. 

His love affair with the sun had reached an unavoidable end. Yet again. Luck had seldom ever been on his side, so this shouldn’t sting this much.

But it did.

His eyes darted to the half-moon window high up above through which scorching shafts of sunlight tore and lit up the dingy cellar.

Revulsion stirred within him and the flares of anger threatened to consume him whole.

The very same sun rays in which he had bathed for weeks were now a sore reminder of his true and inescapable nature.

He titled his head back against the wooden crate, his eyes fluttering shut in defeat as he sat on the cold floor.

Astarion had served his purpose and was now cast to live in the shadows once more, bound to his hunger and to all the inconveniences of being a vampire spawn.

The pain of being scorched by the sunlight had been revived in his mind after weeks of freely strolling around the Sword Coast in some impromptu quest to save Baldur’s Gate whilst having to deal with an inconvenient wriggling dweller inside his head.

But all the physical pain of being burnt mercilessly paled in comparison when his ears picked up approaching footsteps.

He knew who they belonged to.

The sound was carved into his mind like a dagger that wouldn’t budge.

You.

He winced as the squeaky door was pushed open. 

“Astarion?”

He gritted his teeth, silently praying you’d simply walk away and leave him to his misery. 

But his prayers had never been answered before, and that wasn’t about to change now, least of all when it concerned you.

In truth, he doubted any God above would be able to keep you from plaguing his thoughts.

“Astarion, I know you’re in here.”

Then leave.

He remained silent, eyes fluttered shut and an urge to be swallowed whole by the ground below.

Light and careful footsteps drew near and only came to a halt as a swift rush of air indicated to him that you were crouched in front of him.

Shit.

“Hello,” you said and he could hear the warm smile in your voice.

Slowly, he opened his eyes and he was sure that if he had a beating heart, it would most likely skip a few beats. Instead, he felt his stomach lurch as hunger simmered dangerously.

Your kind eyes met his and he craved nothing more than to have you be gone. 

From all the afflictions he was yet again a slave to, you were by far the most painful one.

“Did you come here to mock me?” he spat, the poisonous words leaving his mouth before he could hold back.

Your eyes widened slightly. “Mock you? Astarion–”

But he cut you off like a knife through flesh. “Spare me – I saw the way they laughed as my skin crumbled to ashes. So if you’ve come here to have your share, you can just leave.”

He was being unfair and he didn’t need your wavering smile as proof.

After all your travels together and his unrequited feelings towards you, he couldn’t fight his arrogance from surfacing.

But you never gave up on him – through deceit and manipulation, you were unmoving and relentless in your loyalty to him.

“I’ll have you know that I scolded all of them for doing so,” you said firmly. “It was uncalled for, especially after everything we’ve been through together.”

His jaw clenched harder and his eyes narrowed. 

Oh, he couldn’t stand it. That look on your face – pity. It immediately triggered a visceral reaction deep within him, and when he saw you reach out to him with your hand, he flinched away and recoiled against the crate behind him. 

“Don’t touch me.”

Your hand immediately stilled before dropping to your knee, and he saw a glint of sadness cross your eyes.

It wasn’t disgust or anger that caused him to utter such words.

He just knew your touch would ruin him and that he’d allow it.

“We can find a way to solve this,” you tried again with newfound determination. “We will find a way.”

He scoffed, averting his gaze.

Unfortunately, the laws of the worlds didn’t bend to the whims of lesser beings without compromise. 

And he soon realised what really bothered him was how vulnerable he felt – how exposed and weak he surely looked in your eyes.

Pathetic.

Useless.

Tainted.

Broken.

“Do you trust me?” 

He remained silent.

“Do you?”

Your insistence gnawed at his nerves, causing him to lock eyes with you again. 

“It goes beyond trust, darling. If walking in the sun again – or curing vampirism altogether – were that easy, I would not be here in the first place.”

Even through his snarky remark, you found a way to hold a smile and it immediately disarmed him. “Astarion, if there is anything our travels together have taught me is that we're quite good at turning the impossible into possible,” you said with conviction. “If there is a way to help you, we will find it.”

In another lifetime, he would have called you a foolish human who uttered big words without knowing their meaning.

But in this one, he did know you didn't extend promises lightly.

And if there was a sliver of hope he could cling to, he'd take it, especially now that Cazador was no longer around to compel him otherwise.

“Well, who's ‘we’, exactly?” he asked, easing himself against the crate.

Your face lightened up. “You and me, of course.”

The two of you. Just the two of you?

Oh, he liked the sound of that. Very, very much. 

His jaw slacked as hope kindled inside him, soaring dangerously high.

“Well, and Wyll – he's offered to help.”

Said hope plummeted back to the ground, shattering.

He scowled with a click of his tongue. “Did he, now? How chivalrous of him.”

You nodded. “I'm sure the others will come around, too.”

Astarion supposed this was a decent prospect, but almost grimaced when you extended your hand to him.

“Deal?”

He wanted to believe your relationship with him surpassed a mere friendship value, but he had grown tired of hoping for more.

Still, he would greedily take anything you would offer him.

Whether it was an indication that you craved more than friendship, or a simple handshake.

As such, he took your hand in his, revelling in the familiar warmth. “We have a deal, darling.”

Once he entered The Blushing Mermaid, it was evident that the presence of six Flaming Fists was not welcome at all.

Bork immediately asked for only two to stay inside as they were beginning to frighten the clientele.

But, much to his convenience, he immediately found who he was looking for, sitting in the furthermost corner of the lounge area.

Ava.

The plan was simple: try to get a confession from her – if applicable – but they would still be bringing her in for questioning as Rob Sorel, her lover, awaited her with Wyll.

A measured smile spread across her face as she noticed the fists behind him.

He slithered to her table with determined steps, aware that there was a possibility that this conversation would lead nowhere.

He slowly took the seat across from her, casually placing his twin daggers on the chipped table.

Ava's eyes dropped momentarily before meeting his again. “Oh, Astarion. Offering a silent warning with poison-coated blades? You needn't do that with me.”

Astarion's lips twitched upwards in silence.

He knew this dance better than most. He could read others quite efficiently when it came to sudden shifts in body language, and he had noticed Ava sitting straighter and her saccharine smile wavering all of a sudden.

And he had her right where he wanted her.

“You can't be too careful. Isn't that what some say?” he said, absentmindedly drumming his fingers along the handle of one dagger.

She took a sip from her cup before tilting it. “I'd order one for you, but I know this isn't your drink of choice – unless you brought her along for a sip, that is.”

Her taunt was enough to set him ablaze and the tip of his blade was immediately carved into the wooden table, earning a jolt from her.

“You do not get to goad me with her,” he snarled, gripping the handle so fiercely he might snap it in half. “She is off limits and you were delusional to even think you could bring her into this without consequences.”

Suddenly, her face twisted into a hard scowl and whatever traces of sweetness vanished. “I would not do anything with her without talking to you first.”

“You still offered her a deal, thereby roping her into something she is not to be a part of,” he retorted. “Her blood is off limits. She is off limits.”

Ava leaned back with a roll of her eyes. “Is this a case of you not wanting to share? Not even if that could be beneficial to you?”

His grip loosened slightly as his brows furrowed. “What is your point?”

She took another sip. “Her blood mixed with yours could be beneficial to my experiment and, thus, to you and even that massive horde of spawn in the Underdark.”

Of course Ava would want to play her cards right to keep him around.

It was a temptimg prospect, and he would never consider it at your expense.

He was no fool and you were no bargaining chip.

“I could never ask that of her. She stays out of this.”

She forced a yawn. “Have you forgotten your arrangement with her? Her blood for your good behaviour? Or does all sense of reason rush to your cock when you feed on her?”

Ava's words slashed through the air and he was momentarily taken aback.

The nature of your arrangement with him was vastly different. It wasn’t as simple as him being kept in line like some obedient pup. He could have turned the offer away and live exclusively off boars and deers – much to his horror.

The difference was… well, you.

Your unwillingness to let him go.

Your blood.

Your insistence on helping him keep his mind clear by allowing him to freely feed on the blood of a thinking creature.

And not just any thinking creature.

You.

His first.

The only blood he craved to the point of madness.

“Though, I can tell you haven't fed in a couple of days,” she went on with a dramatic pout. “A lover's quarrel, hmm?”

Oh, she was vicious.

This was the same woman who had shared a bed with him to ease him coming to terms with intimacy. For the most part, her simply being naked by his side hadn't helped much, but it seemed enough, and he was desperate to overcome the prison that his mind had become.

However, this was also the same woman who slayed her kin without hesitation.

She could go from being as kind and sweet to holding a stake to his chest.

Astarion felt a sense of dread wash over him as he realised he had greatly underestimated her.

Now, he needed to tread lightly.

The blade sunk deeper into the table as he leaned closer. “You wanted her blood in exchange for information.”

“Yet it is a far less selfish bargain than your arrangement with her, is it not?”

He ignored tar taunt. “Who is after me?”

“I do not know yet.”

He gritted his teeth. “Lies.”

Ava's face softened and he watched her slip into her usual overly sweet demeanour. “Astarion, we can be here all night hurling accusations and witty remarks at each other,” she said with a sigh. “Or we can approach this in a more sensitive manner.”

He didn't budge. “Who is after me?”

“I do not know who is after you,” she said. “Someone is, but I have yet to find out who.”

There was something in her tone that felt disingenuous. Almost as if she hadn't expected him to press her on this.

“Or there is no one at all besides you,” he said casually.

Her eyes widened slightly. “Me? And what would I gain from doing such a thing? Your blood is an integral part of this experiment. Locking you up in a prison cell would prove to be a nuisance.”

His patience was wearing thin.

“Darling, I've been around long enough to know people lie – you are a pristine liar, but a liar nonetheless.

In truth, he was merely bluffing in an attempt to spot any cracks in her story. He needed anything he could get from her.

And a part of him still hoped this was all a misunderstanding.

She cocked an eyebrow at him. “I can see what you are trying to do and it won't work.”

He thought as much. Still, he had to give it a try.

“What about Waterdeep?”

For the first time that night, Ava looked genuinely dumbfounded. “What about it?”

“No casual killings over there, hmm? In the past hours – accidental ones, perhaps?” he pressed.

She frowned deeply in response. “What are you accusing me of, exactly?”

“Someone was murdered and I am simply trying to rule you out as a suspect,” he said, feigning concern. 

“You overestimate my reach outside Baldur's Gate.”

He scoffed. “But not the reach of a certain patriar who so happens to be your lover.”

Ava's lips parted but she didn't utter a word.

“Rob Sorel has dealings in Waterdeep and knows which strings to pull to order a murder.”

She was visibly agitated, but he couldn't tell the cause. Was it the mention of a patriar? Or was he simply nearing the truth?

“Who was killed?”

It was all pointless.

A shame.

He merely turned in his seat and motioned for the two Fists at the door. Both immediately approached with the Mage Slayer right behind.

By this point, Astarion wasn't sure if Ava was even involved in this at all, but he couldn't take any risks. She would be taken in for questioning regardless of his judgement.

“Astarion?”

The room was immediately plunged into silence as multiple heads turned to watch the scene. From behind the counter he spotted Bork shaking his head in clear disapproval, visibly displeased with the ordeal.

“Astarion? What are you doing?”

His eyes met hers as he sheathed his daggers. “The right thing.”

He was known to do that from time to time, even against his better judgement.

She rushed to her feet, clawing at her dress in search of her own dagger. “Astarion!”

He could hear the rising panic in her voice, and he silently watched as the mage cast Hold Person on her before she could so much as blink.

She was instantly left petrified in place as the violet sign on the floor caged her in.

Gasps echoed around him and the two Fists promptly rushed to her side.

“We'll handle it from here,” one of them told him.

There was a part of him that vaguely wondered if this was the correct approach. 

A part of him that hoped for Ava not to be involved in any of it.

And then, from across the room, he saw you.

He blinked twice, thinking his eyes betrayed him, but there you were, standing by the door with a Fist at your side, staring back into his crimson eyes.

And it was as if he had been mentally slapped.

Ava had dared to involve you.

You.

And it had been his fault.

The unruly and dense crowd in the room wasn't enough to contain him from darting hurriedly to meet you.

Annoyance hit him first and it was woven into his words once he was in front of you, gripping your forearm. “Why are you here? I told you to let me handle this.”

You immediately yanked free with narrowed eyes. “I wasn't trying to interfere. But this idiot,” you said, pointing to the Fist who merely shrugged, “pushed me inside and – wait! How did it go with her?”

Astarion caught hold of your shoulders, pulling you to the side as Ava was carried away through the door.

As soon as it closed behind them, the fanfare commenced once more in between heated whispers and glares from those around the two of you.

“Marvellous as you can see,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm. “She didn't confess to anything, and I had limited time.”

You pushed the door open once again and he promptly followed you outside, until he felt a hard shove from someone's hand.

“Move, spawn.”

He glanced over his shoulder only to see a frowning Fist right behind.

“We are not cattle to be ordered around,” he spat, adjusting his vest. “Honestly, Wyll ought to have you all stand trial for severe lack of manners.”

“It's Duke Ravengard to you,” the Fist growled, hand on the hilt of his sword.

Astarion clicked his tongue humorously. “It's Wyll to me and Duke Ravengard to you, Fist.”

Before tensions could escalate any further, you were already tugging at his sleeve, and dragging him across the wooden pier.

Just as the Fist opened his mouth, a myriad of clashing and banging sounds were heard from inside and he turned to open the door.

Probably a tavern brawl.

What fun!

Seconds later, the armoured man was toppled to the ground as the door burst open with people yelling profanities and slinging fists at each other.

“I'll kill ya! WHERE IS MY CHICKEN, YOU OAF?” a drunkard missing most of his teeth yelled, holding a frying pan in his hand.

“YOU ATE IT, YOU IMBECILE!” said another, stepping on the fallen Fist and nearly losing his balance.

Behind them, Astarion spotted several items being tossed whilst Bork's voice begged for order.

He almost clicked his tongue.

Tavern brawls were too much fun and he always adored adding fuel to the fire by standing on the side and instigating these drunkard fools.

But a quick glance at you and he could tell you wouldn't approve of such activity, so he remained at your side.

The other two Fists that were standing guard nearby, clumsily rushed to the entrance.

“Go call for backup!”

The youngest nodded and nearly bumped into Astarion as he tried to keep his helmet steady.

“Oh! Do not leave! Do not move!”

Astarion immediately raised both hands innocently. “Wouldn't dream of it.”

“Right. Thank you!”

Idiot.

Surprisingly, you hadn't let go of his sleeve and your hand moved to his wrist, pulling him to cross the road until you reached the metal balustrade that allowed a privileged view over the Grey Harbour Docks.

It was far away from the chaos that had erupted, but not quite far that would potentially get you into trouble.

Although… “Maybe we should leave.”

Astarion arched an eyebrow at you. “And going against the voice of authority?”

Your face dropped and he fought the urge to pinch your cheek teasingly.

You were so easy to rile up.

“You scheming little delinquent, you,” he said with a devious smile and a chuckle. “I'm all for acts of rebellion, but we ought to stay nearby this time.”

“Do you think we should go help them out?” you asked, glancing over at the rising commotion nearby.

The two of you exchanged looks before shrugging.

“No. They can fend for themselves,” you said, leaning over the fence, eyes set on the lulling sea that spread vastly into the distance.

“Actually, they're quite incompetent, but I don't feel like creasing my shirt,” he said with an annoyed click of his tongue, inspecting his sleeves as he joined you. “Let them fight off the drunkards. We get to collect the scattered coins on the floor afterwards.”

You shot him a curious look. “You do that?”

“Well, obviously? I put the gold to good use, at least.”

“Embroidery?”

That tugged a genuine smile from him and he caught himself staring at you under the moonlight.

Gods.

He would never tire of admiring your beauty and how it was almost embarrassingly too easy for him to get lost in your eyes.

It also didn't help that he hadn't fed in a few days.

Bloodlust clouded his mind and made his insides turn.

It was the soft sound of your voice that snapped him from his thoughts. “What now? I mean… Ava.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, they are to interrogate Rob Sorel and see how both their stories hold up.”

You heaved a deep sigh. “So we wait.”

“We wait.”

Astarion had grown used to the silence that would often settle around the two of you. It wasn’t an uncomfortable one. It was the kind that he had never experienced before.

He wasn't sure there was a name for it, but he knew the feeling attached to it all too well.

The silhouette of passing ships on the horizon, dancing along the calm waters added to the overall soothing atmosphere.

He could stay a while longer like this.

With you.

His eyes eventually darted to the side and he nearly jolted when your head turned to him, as if you had felt his burning gaze.

“You can feed on me once we get home.”

He wanted that.

He needed it.

He craved it.

But… “I can do without your blood for a while longer, darling.”

A white lie.

He could feel his mind spotting and blanking at times already, especially when near you. Maybe he had gotten too addicted to feeding on you to the point his body could no longer go extended periods of time without blood.

Your blood.

And as much as he appreciated your offer, he needed to withstand his hunger.

Ava's words echoed in his mind and he almost felt repulsed from having allowed himself to be so dependent on you and putting you through it in the first place.

“Are you alright?” you asked, visibly worried.

“Yes – of course, darling,” he forced a smile to curl his lips.

Your hand came to rest on his forearm. “Astarion, you can feed on me. I mean it.”

His eyes dropped to your neck, the symmetrical puncture wounds still visible from when he had last bitten you.

Hunger swelled to the point of agony and he could almost smell your blood and feel it coursing through your hand.

You gave him a reassuring nod, which only made it harder for him to resist the urge to give in.

“I should go hunt, actually,” he eventually managed to say and his words felt like ash in his mouth.

You chuckled slightly, squeezing his arm. “You'd probably have to bring a Fist with you.”

He grimaced, but appreciated your attempt at diffusing the tension. “They would end up being the ones hunted by some beast in the woods, and I would have to step in and save the godsdamned idiot.”

Your eyes widened and then you laughed.

Hard.

And it was the most comforting sound he had ever heard in a long while.

It was enough to steer the bloodlust away and he laughed with you.

“It reminds me of the first time you fed on me,” you said, wiping off the teardrops that had formed in the corners of your eyes from laughing. “Remember? When you drifted off into the woods to hunt for something more ‘filing’?”

Oh.

Shit.

His smile wavered and you immediately caught on to the sudden shift.

“What?”

He thought he had told you what truly happened that night….

…. he hadn't?

“Well… I…” his words failed him and as he pondered how he should approach the topic.

Concern suddenly splattered across your face. “What is it? 

Shit. Shit. Shit.

“I didn't exactly go hunting,” he said with a tense chuckle.

You remained silent, waiting for him to go on.

“I just had to get away from you… to… uhm, well – take care of a little problem that stirred whilst I fed on you, if you catch my meaning.”

He allowed the implication to dangle from his words, and it wasn't a particularly subtle one.

And then your eyes widened once more in sudden realisation.

“Oh… it makes sense,” you said all flustered, withdrawing your hand from his arm. “You did say my blood feels really good.”

‘Good’ was an unfair understatement.

It always felt divine.

“Don't misunderstand,” he quickly added. “It was totally out of my control. I was quite surprised when I realised just how…” hard he had gotten.

“Just how…?”

“Just how much your blood affected me.”

He could remember it clearly in his head.

How desperate he was to slip into the woods and find a secluded place so he could see just how much of a mess his trousers were.

He could feel it, obviously, but he wouldn't know the extent of the ‘'damage’ until he undid his trousers.

“Did you… get…. really hard?” you drawled out in a hushed tone as if scared someone other than him might overhear you.

Astarion figured this was the last topic he expected to be addressing given that the background noise consisted of screams and threats and loud noises and glass smashing.

Hardly the right ambience.

“Yes.”

He could almost remember the feel of the bark of the tree digging into his back as he hurriedly undid the lacing at the front until he was able to free his cock.

“And what did you do?”

Were these merely questions that stemmed from curiosity or were you trying to stir something else…?

“Well…” he started, “you can't expect me to reveal such things aloud.”

He watched you swallow hard as you nodded. “You can say in my ear, then? If you want to, of course,” you quickly added.

You were too adorable and he was in dire need of a distraction from his bloodlust.

This would suffice.

He leaned closer, and pressed a kiss to your heated cheek before his lips grazed the shell of your ear.

“I had to take care of it.”

You shuddered.

His cock had never been as hard and as thick before he had fed on you. It had made him utterly speechless to see all the precum dripping from the tip.

He had been almost too scared to even touch it.

But when he did….

The groan that had erupted from his throat had been too difficult to rein in. His cock had felt warm and it had throbbed from your blood coursing through it, giving it a faint pink tint to it.

“In the woods?” you asked, gripping the railing with both hands.

“Yes.”

He could hear the faint beating of your heart increasing. “What if someone had run into you?”

His cock twitched.

Innocent, little pup…

“Why, darling… did you want to run into me,” he lowered his voice as his lips brushed against your ear, "and witness my despair as I touched myself?”

You gasped.

Despair didn't quite cover it. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he had ever felt like he'd implode lest he reached climax.

It was a novelty and he had felt… alive. 

He had heard of how delectable the blood of thinking creatures could be, but he had never anticipated this feeling of fullness and how addictive it could be.

“It was so warm… from your blood, sweetheart,” he purred, feeling himself getting carried away.

You bit your quivering lip before replying, “Did it feel good?”

Maybe too carried away.

And when you shuddered again under his faint touch, it was as if he had been slapped back into another plane of existence.

He suddenly straightened himself and blinked.

What was he doing?

His abrupt change in demeanour was enough to earn a reaction from you, and he could see lust in your half-hooded eyes as you stared at him in confusion.

And just like a tidal wave that one couldn't hold back, he felt disgust and revulsion lacing themselves into a powerful mixture that caused him to take a step back.

His mind was flooded with Ava's accusatory words and the memories of him seducing you for his own benefit.

“Astarion?”

Your voice was miles away and he couldn't even bring himself to blink anymore.

The nauseating feeling was heightened by the fact that he had a very inconvenient erection strained against his trousers, begging for attention.

“Astarion… what is it?” 

Your voice seemed even more distant than before, as if he had been plunged into a well and couldn't get out.

Why couldn't he get out?

Why was his cock so hard, but his mind so repulsed by it?

And the impending feeling of dread began to slowly overtake him like storm clouds rolling over the mountains, bent on flooding the land below.

And when it began to rain in his mind, it poured.

He needed to get away.

He needed to get away from you.

You tried reaching out to him with your hand, but he flinched away. “Don't touch me!”

And he could see it in your eyes.

Pity.

Again.

“I – I must go.”

And he didn't look back.

TBC

[vintagegeekculture]

The Evil Little Hairy Cave People of Europe in Pulp Fiction

From the 1900s to the 1940s, there was a trendy theme in occult and horror stories that the explanation for widespread European legends of fairies, brownies, pixies, leprechauns and other malicious little people, was that they were a hereditary racial memory of the extremely small non-human, hairy stone age original inhabitants of Europe, who still survive well into modern times in caves and barrows below the earth. Envious of being displaced on the surface, these weird creatures, adapted to the darkness of living underground and unable to withstand the sun, still mean mischief and occasionally go out at night to capture someone.... usually an attractive woman....to take to their dark caves for human sacrifice.

Displaced by the arrival of Indo-European language speakers at the dawn of the Bronze Age, these original, not quite human stone age people of Europe were driven deep underground into caves and barrows below the earth, where they went mad, adapted to the darkness and acquired a fear of daylight, became extremely inbred, in some cases acquired widespread albinism. It is these strange little people who gave the descendants of Europeans a haunting racial dread of places below the earth like mines and caves, and it also is these strange, hairy troglodytes who originally built the uncanny and mysterious menhir, fairy rings, and stone age structures of England, Scotland, and Ireland that predate the coming of the Celts and Romans.

In some cases, these evil troglodytes are usually identified with the mysterious Picts, the pre-Celtic stone age inhabitants of the British Isles. In some cases, they are identified with the Basque people of Spain, best known as the inventors of Jai Alai, and the oldest people in Europe who speak a unique language unrelated to any in the world.

The original codifier of this trend was Arthur Machen, a horror writer who is less remembered than his contemporary, Henry James, but who may be the best horror writer in the generations between Poe on the one end and Lovecraft/CL Moore/Clark Ashton Smith on the other. His story, "the White People" from 1904 (a reference to their strange cave albinism) was a twisted Alice in Wonderland with a girl who is irresistibly attracted to dark pre-Roman stone age ruins and who is eventually pulled underground.

In addition to being a great horror writer, Arthur Machen was a member of the Hermetic Society of the Golden Dawn, an occult organization, and was often seen at the Isis-Urania Temple in London. Many of his works have secretive occult knowledge.

H.P. Lovecraft in particular always pointed out Arthur Machen as his single biggest inspiration, though he combined Machen's dread and occultism with Abraham Merritt's sense of fear of the cosmic unknown, seen in "Dwellers in the Mirage" and "People of the Pit."

Another and scarier example of this trend would be "No Man's Land," a story by John Buchan, a Scotsman fascinated by paganism and horror, who often wrote stories of horrific discoveries and evil rites on the Scottish moors. He is often reduced to being described as a "Scottish Ghost Story" writer, a painfully reductivist description as in his career, Buchan wrote a lot of thrillers, detective, and adventure stories as well. In later life, he was appointed Governor General of Canada, meaning he may be the first head of state to be a horror writer.

It was Buchan who first identified the cave creatures with the Picts, something that another Weird Tales writer decades later, Robert E. Howard, would roll with in the 1920s.

Howard is a very identifiable kind of modern person you often see on the internet: a guy who talks tough, but who was terrified to leave his small town. He created manly man, tough guy heroes like Conan the Barbarian, Kull, and El Borak, but he himself never left his mother's house. It's no wonder he got along well with his fellow Weird Tales writer and weird shut in, HP Lovecraft. With 1920s Weird Tales writers, despite your admiration for their incredible talent, you also can't help but laugh at them a little, a feeling you also apply to a lot of Victorians, who achieved incredible things, but who are often closet cases and cranks who died virgins ("Chinese" Gordon comes to mind, as does Immelmann).

With Howard, his obsession with the Picts and the stone age cave dwelling people of Europe started with an unpublished manuscript where at a dinner party, a man gets knocked out and regresses to his past life in the Bronze Age, where he remembers the earliest contact between modern humans and the original inhabitants of the British Isles, the evil darkskinned Picts. This is a mix of both the "little cave people" story and another cliche at the time, "the stone age past life regression novel," another turn of the century cliche.

Still with the Picts on his mind, Howard would later create Bran Mak Morn, a Pict chieftain, who predated Kull and Conan as his Celtic caveman muscle hero. Howard was of Irish descent and proudly anti-Colonial and anti-British, with his Roman Empire and Civilized Kingdoms as a stand in for the British and other Empires, which he viewed as rapacious and humbug, a view shared by his greatest inspiration, Talbot Mundy. His "Worms of the Earth" gets to the heart of why these little cave people scare us so much: they remind us that we live on land that is impossibly ancient and we don't fully understand at all.

It was another Weird Tales Writer a decade later who wrote one of the last stories about the little hairy cave people of Europe, though, Manly Wade Wellman in 1942. Wellman was mainly known for creating the blond beefcake caveman hero Hok the Mighty set in stone age times, and for his supernatural ghost stories of Silver John the Balladeer set in modern, ghostly Appalachia (like many ex-Weird Tales writers, he made a turn to being a regional author in his later career, in the same way Hugh B. Cave became a Caribbean writer), but Wellman also had a regular character known as John Thunstone, a muscular and wealthy playboy known for his moustache who used his great wealth to investigate the supernatural and the occult. Thunstone had a silver sword made by St. Dunstan, patron of Silversmiths, well known for his confrontations with the Devil.

Most John Thunstone stories featured familiar stories, like a demon possessed seance and so on, but one in particular featured a unique enemy, the Shonokins.

The Shonokins were the original rulers of North America, descendants of Neanderthal man displaced by American Indians. This fear that the land we live is ancient and unknowable and we just arrived on it and don't know any of its secrets is common to settler societies, who often hold the landscape with dread, as in Patricia Wrightson's fantasies of the Australian Outback. It was easy enough to transport the hairy cave people from the Scottish Moors to North America. I suspect that's what they are, a personification of a fear shared in the middle class, that in the back of their minds, that everything they have supposedly earned is merely an accident of history, built by rapacity and the crimes of history, and that someday a bill will come due.

A text page in the May 1942 issue of Weird Tales gives strange additional information on the Shonokins not found elsewhere:

Since then, there have been too many examples of evil cave people who predate Europeans. Philip Jose Farmer's "The All White Elf" features the last survivor of a pre-European people who live in caves. A lot of other fiction of course has featured the Picts, but according to our modern scientific understanding, which describes them as much, much less exotically, as a blue tattooed people not too different and practically indistinguishable from the Celtic tribes that surrounded them, and which they eventually blended into.

[fhrlclln]

it started in hollywood | the ghoul

SUMMARY -> after 200 years, after the bombings, after everything went to shit, the ghoul still had one thing in his mind that never left him, it was his family. it was you. his star wife.

the ghoul/cooper howard x wife!fem! reader

masterlist

GENRE -> fluff & angst

WARNINGS -> typical fallout violence, vault-tech sucks, cryo shit, poor lucy, radroaches, swearing, emotions, you’re his wife, drugs (chems duh)

WC -> 4.08k

a/n: so fAWK I FORGOT TO POST THIS anyways, so i’ve fallen for walton goggins and of course the ghoul hence a fic!

likes, comments and reposts are greatly appreciated !! <3

enjoy !!

underneath the scorching sun of the wastelands, the ghoul stares ahead at the vaultie ahead of him that’s walking limply that’s bound by his lasso. the sand underneath his feet is a pain in his ass feeling the grains go inside his shoes every step he takes but it was a treck. all went to shit when this particular vault-dweller got the head of his bounty eaten by a fucking gulper and destroyed his vials trynna not be eaten by it, and now he’s running out of his chems which was a total shit indeed.

yet he stills keeps living on as usual. just a lot of shit that’s going on.

lucy huffs out a breath out of her chapped lips, dehydrated and legs sore from walking a mile. the rope wrapped around her waist wasn’t helping either and neither was the scorching sun shinning brightly over head either. her vision was starting to get blurry but she could see they were nearing abandoned pre-war buildings. she glances behind her, seeing the ghoul still walking cooly, coughing a bit but still looked like he was still holding up which annoyed her. she sighs, walking a bit more, hoping maybe the ghoul would have a change of heart and maybe they’d settle down at some abandoned building there and rest for a bit— and maybe a chance to escape and continue on her quest to bring back her father.

lucy huffs as they halt for a moment. the sound of splashing water catches her ear as she glances back again to see the man holding a canteen as he screws it open and chugs the water down. she stares at it, panting, her mouth salivating at the sight of water.

“sir…” she pleads, “sir, please, i need water… please.” she begs as the ghoul momentarily stares back at her and eventually ignores her as he continues to drink. her brows furrow, desperation gnawing inside her. “please.” she rasps, more loudly. the ghoul doesn’t say anything as he drinks then emptying out his canteen once he’s done. precious water droplets wasted as a mockery to the poor girl. lucy stares at him with disbelief as the ghoul unsheathes his shotgun as he gestures for her to walk. the poor girl obliges, not wanting to get a bullet to her head as they continue on until lucy’s pip-boy rad meter suddenly triggers. her footsteps halt as she turns to where it was indicating radiation to a puddle of water in which her eyes hunger at until the ghoul spoke.

“water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink.” he says casually. “ain’t much stays clean here, vaultie. you’ll see.” he warns.

“is that what happened to you?” she huffs. “radiation?”

“something like that.” he answers as they continue the walk, passing by a large vault-tec advertisement. lucy looks at it, a sign of determination for her remembering her dad and her vault. a gunshot rings as the face of the vault boy is shot right clean. she quickly glances at the ghoul, seeing he was the one who shot it.

he lowers his shotgun, staring at the holed face, anger seeping in him silently. distain for whatever vault-tec shit he sees. they continue on yet the cold silence from the ghoul can be felt all the way. he hated that fucking corporation, ruining his fucking career, sending him into a downward spiral all because he trusted that woman. but amongst all he fucking hated was how not only his career went to shit in hollywood, he hated that he got his wife involved in it.

ah, hollywood. his thoughts run to there, a distraction for the walk. he wasn’t one to dive in much in his memories, past was past, but dammit was the past the only thing that maybe kept him sane. because after all, it all started in hollywood.

when he met you.

his hand dives down in his inner pocket of his duster, fishing out something. his hand grips a worn-out photograph, one he got along his travels exploring the worn out california crest studios, back when he was fresh from this awful new world he awoke to after the bombings. a small photograph of you. one he ripped out of a picture frame out of desperation from a studio. you were a star, a known actress back then, known for your bombshell status and numerous romantic films you’ve been in. and known for being his wife as well thereafter.

cooper howard’s star wife.

he remembers it clearly, meeting you for the first time behind set when he got casted for one romantic film he did for the first time, as only a side character. he was fairly still new in the industry back then before his big breakthrough and you were already big in name. you were the female lead and his heart immediately knew from then on that he was in love with you from the first meeting. you captured his attention and everyone else but he was smug enough to say that he caught your attention, and the rest was fucking history.

the ghoul stares at his precious photograph, gently caressing the worn out picture with his thumb. the one thing that kept his sane. a numbing feeling encapsulating him as he forces himself to look away, focusing now on the present. he tucks it back in his pocket, right inside his chest pocket, above his rotting heart. it wasn’t the time to grieve now, he spats in his mind, he has shit to deal with.

the walk continues on, the ghoul could tell they were passing by studios seeing a lot of tour buses surrounding the area. they past through it on a route to another road in where the ghoul’s destination is. he coughs, a little more hoarsely as suddenly the vaultie in front of him stops and stares at something.

“what you starin’ at, vaultie?” the ghoul tugs his lasso harshly as lucy yelps at that as she glares at the ghoul before he turns his head to take a look at what the smoothie halted their walk for. his eyes slightly widened and his radiated heart stops momentarily at the sight before him.

it was you.

you, on a life-size poster, holding an appetizing cold nuka-cola bottle, smiling brightly as ever with your signature red lips and perfectly styled hair. the poster was a bit shredded and dirty but it still had the picture of you still intact than his photograph that he stares at it now. the same old fluttering yet sentimental feeling filled his hollowed chest as he takes a step to get a good look on your face, that face he dreams of everyday. memories started to flood in and he remembers this very advertisement that you had done. heck, he was even behind the camera, watching you from the set when you posed for nuka-cola, being the it girl that you are.

lucy is confused at the sudden silence the ghoul gave as he stares at the poster she was staring at on a while ago. she knew you, she was even a fan of you after watching numerous movies of you back back when she was still in the vault. was the ghoul a fan of you as well? she thinks as she opens her mouth to speak.

“big fan of her?” she asks yet the ghoul doesn’t answer her for a moment, still staring at your poster. but hearing your name made him feel something, something he hadn’t felt since forever.

“you know her?” he asks back which surprises lucy expecting he’d shrug her off or tug his lasso again and tell her to get a move on.

“y-yeah, loved her movies. always watched them ever since i was a kid… with my dad.” lucy says, surprised at the sudden small talk she was having with the cold bounty hunter.

“huh.” he grunts at that, a genuine small smile gracing his lips as he lifts his arm up to touch your poster as he admired you. his darling star wife. your eyes were still sparkling like diamonds even on a poster. still a star after 200 years, huh baby? he sweetly thinks.

lucy’s eyes widened at the sudden genuine… genuine smile the ghoul gave. he must be a really big fan, she thinks.

yet the sweet feeling dies down inside him. you were gone. gone from this world. he grieves at that harsh realization that he never got to see you one last time before the nukes dropped when you went away for work as any other day while he was at a kid’s birthday party. he never knew what happened to you, never knew if you survived or if you were still alive, if there was a miracle. but there were no such things as miracles in the wastelands, that he knew well. he steps back, letting his hand drop and he turns ahead, tutting his chin to lucy who was staring at him.

“get a move on.” his small smile fades as lucy nods when he tuts his shotgun again. he glances back at you one last time and he sees the wedding band on your finger, a pang in his chest erupts as he forces himself to look away and continue on. you were gone. that was it, he harshly tells himself.

that was it.

they arrive to a town, to a medical clinic of some sort, a worn down one as usual. they could hear some grunting and hissing coming from inside and the young girl was hesitate go in as the ghoul pushes her to move forward. the ghoul was looking for rog, another fellow ghoul, hoping he had some spare vials yet luck run out for that. and things did get ugly, shooting roger on the head was mercy, poor fella almost to the brink of turning feral. and poor lucy watched him cut the man up and eventually she cut him up for the ghoul for some ass jerky.

well shit. the ghoul thinks, as they continue on the walk inside the town. concern floods in him, turning feral wasn’t on his list today as well and neither was the vaultie almost escaping from him and biting his damn finger off. on their walk, they happen to past a vault, just a little bit out of the town, he don’t give two shits about what’s in it yet lucy was now adamant they try to go in there.

“please, sir!” lucy pleads again, pointing to the direction of the vault. “i can g-get in there, and maybe the fellow people there can give us supplies and your vials.” she pleads, the idea of her mind getting non-radiated water and food making her gnaw in desperation. he raises a brow at how she can get in there yet the idea still opposes him. he didn’t want to be dealing with more bubble-head smoothies.

“and why the fuck should i agree on that, vaultie?” he coughs out, more violently now.

“please, i can get in, my pip-boy can get us in.” she begs, desperate for him to agree. “listen you need those vials, right? my vault had those and i know every vault has a storage of that in our clinic. if i could get to talk to the people there and reason with them, maybe they can give it to us.”

“maybe.” he scoffs at that, another cough follows through as he could feel the more drastic changes in him now. he wheezes, sighing. he had no problem defending himself if the vaultie turns on him once they get into that vault so why the fuck not? he steps forward as lucy’s pleading eyes wait for his answer.

“well, alright then.” he says as lucy face fell into relief until he spoke again.

“but so we’re clear, vaultie, we’re not done yet. and i won’t hesitate to shoot you and those damn other vaulties if things turn to shit from what fuckery you’re saying.” he warns as lucy quickly nods.

it was amusing for him to see the girl stumble in her steps despite being dehydrated and exceptionally tired as she rushed to the massive vault. it made her look mad, like an addict rushing to a pile of chems. he stands before the vault, feeling the coolness of being in the shade a little relief for him. still, looking at what vault-tec created, on what he advertised made him sour. he sees lucy plugging in her pip-boy to some panel beside the vault, a minute passed and the massive doors open, the sound of it ringing through his ears. before lucy could get in, the ghoul tugs his lasso as she stumbles back as she glared at him.

“gentlemen first.” he says as he got in, the vault was different to see. not like the ones he got in to advertise back then. it was more… industrial from what he can see than a home. lucy steps to his side, confused at the sight of this vault, expecting there should be a vault keeper by the control panel but there was none. the vault door behind them seals shut again, sealing them from the wasteland.

“cat got your tongue, vaultie?” he speaks up to the dazzled lucy.

“this…” she doesn’t know where to start, the vault isn’t the same as hers. “this is d-different.”

“yeah, well…” he shrugs. “i guess vault-tec don’t cater that home of yours to all vaults.” he walks forward to the hallway, an empty hallway, he couldn’t hear any footsteps or murmurs coming in so he guessed this vault must’ve been abandoned.

“t-there should be people here. a vault keeper by the vault door to greet us and an overseer ready to question us—“ she explains, walking behind him, still confused.

“then you’re wrong.” he replies “place still looks intact though.” he looks around, rounding a corner and now into a room in where he halts his steps, surprised at what’s in it and how cold it was.

“well shit.” so many cryogenic chambers filled the room in where he sees. humor fills him, so vault-tec wasn’t advertising just a home but also a way for people to be frozen, huh?

lucy walks quickly to him to see it. “w-what—“

“the people you were looking for are frozen turkey.” he says casually, stepping in, still cautious of his surroundings as he ready his shotgun. lucy walks faster, looking around to see multiple people frozen in these chambers.

“are they… pre-war?” she asks.

“i’d reckon.” he answers, standing in front of one, getting a good look of this person. observing the state of the man in the chamber, he could tell he looks alive seeing the fella still breathing.

“and still alive.” he snickers. he wonders what vault-tec advertised for this shit.

“i don’t understand…” she’s still confused, confused why people are willing to be frozen alive. “why… if they’re frozen then there must be someone watching them?”

“not if that someone is already dead.” he tuts his chin to the control panel where a skeleton is lying down in front of it. he must have guessed maybe something happened to the one caregiver—or more in this vault.

lucy gasps at that. “then how will they all get out?”

“their fate, vaultie. just a fucked up one.” he reminds her and steps away from the chambers. it was grim realization for all the people living here, that they’ll be frozen forever because of vault-tec after they promised them their safety. lucy is rendered speechless of what she’s learning. a moment of silence transpires and a sudden alarm rings off from one of the cryochambers, a blaring red light is seen from it. lucy looks at the ghoul, seeing him confused as well. she rushes to it to see a woman in the chamber as a terminal beside it warns that it was failing life support.

“she’s dying!” lucy shouts, worried.

“leave it.” the ghoul warns, not wanting lucy to touch any shit here.

“if i don’t do anything she might die.” she reasons as the ghoul sighs at her. the terminal’s screen flashes that the chamber is critically failing and that to press the eject button immediately. lucy huffs as she searches for the eject button, ignoring the ghoul’s warnings. a red button is under the terminal and she could see the eject label. despite her arms tightly tied to his lasso, she does one thing that surprises the ghoul as she butts her forehead to press it quickly.

“motherfucker—“ the ghoul grits his teeth as lucy slumps down to see the cryochamber open, cold air hitting her cheeks as the woman in it groans awake. lucy watches as her eyes open suddenly and a gasp is awoken in her as the very woman stumbles out of her chamber, falling to the floor as well.

“ma’am?” lucy spoke up, dazzled to see this woman. seeing clearly that she wasn’t wearing a vault suit like hers but in a black mini-dress. the ghoul watches from afar of where he stands, something familiar about this woman who lucy ejected sparked curiosity in him. it couldn’t be—

“i-i can’t see.” your hoarse voice croaks.

“is someone there?” you call out, blinking your eyes frantically but you still couldn’t see clearly. everything was blurry and confusing for you as you tap the floor from where you are slumped.

lucy is starstruck. you were the woman she just saved from life support. she couldn’t believe it as she glances to the cowboy, seeing him equally shocked as her as well.

“ma’am, i-i’m here.” lucy gently calls out as you raise your head yet the image of lucy is still blurry. your face then drops, into a sudden look of worry.

“m-my husband. is my husband here?” you immediately ask, remembering cooper was supposed to visit you on set after his gig at a birthday party and yet the bombs fall and you couldn’t get to him.

“cooper… cooper howard is he here?” you ask again, panicking.

“he’s…” lucy couldn’t answer that. “i don’t know, ma’am.”

“please… please tell me he made it. i need…” you blink again as it was still blurry. hysterical now that the woman talking to you didn’t know where your husband is or if he even got in time to get into this vault despite you knowing he fucking hated this.

“i-i need, fuck, please tell me he’s here. cooper—“ you sob now. “is my husband alive?” you asks, tears staining your cheeks.

“i don’t know…” lucy’s voice lowers, sympathetic for you. after being frozen for such a long time, your vision was still adjusting to the sudden awakening. your sobs grew louder, realizing he didn’t make it. lucy lips tremble at the sight of you as she looks to the ghoul, seeing him stand frozen as like the people in the chambers.

“sir?” she calls him out.

cooper is dumbstruck at the sight before him. he didn’t know if the lack of chems were taking a toll on him but there you are, his darling beautiful wife, alive and in one piece. still looking like the day he last saw you, all gorgeous in that black dress you wore. he hesitantly steps forward, his rotten heart beating so loudly. a number of emotions are mixed in him. and he was scared. but seeing you crying had his feet finally moving to you and lucy. you were sobbing, calling out his name, and that struck him that you thought he was dead. but in reality, he was in fact dead, now just a shell of a man that turned into a ghoul. he wasn’t cooper howard for a very long time but maybe now, he could still feel his old self inside him from just seeing you alive.

“coop…” you sob his name out. confused and scared as your vision started to become more clearer by the minute. you couldn’t stand, just by the thought of cooper dead had you wanting to be put back in that chamber again.

“i’m here, sugar.”

he finally speaks, crouching next to you. “i’m right here, baby.” he whispers as you frantically lifted your head up hearing his voice, vision still a bit blurry. but a silhouette of a man wearing a cowboy hat had you stopping your sobbing.

“cooper, that you?” you sniffle as you weakly tried to sit up.

“slow, baby.” he ushers you gently. “your body’s still adjusting.”

“you made it?” you ask.

“sort of.” he says as he gently caresses your cheek, he shudders feeling of your soft yet chilled skin. yep, this is real. you’re alive. “once your eyes adjust, sugar. i ain’t the husband you had back then.” he sadly tells you as you nuzzle your cheek to his warmth.

“that’d be impossible.” you tell him as he chuckles at that sadly. “how long have i been frozen turku?”

“give or take, 200 years.”

“well shit.” you say, shocked. had it been that long?

“shit indeed.” he grins, he could tell your vision was starting to come back as he warns you now. “i’m telling you sugar, you not gonna like what i look like now.”

you blink and blink and the light blinds you for a moment before you stare up at him. you gasp, seeing his face now. he was right that he was different. his face was all muscle, no nose, eyelids were sunken, as if the bones are starting to come out but his hazel eyes were still the same. cooper stares at you, waiting for you to be scared and disgusted by him but you surprised him again.

“what happened to you, coop?” you cup his face, softly caressing it. he shudders, the coldness from your hands and the feel of your soft fingers again mad him relish it. “what happened without me?”

“long story, sweetheart.” he says. “not a good one.” his face is stern at that and you could tell he’s gone through a lot of shit.

you hum, letting go of his face, sitting up now. “i thought you were dead.” you tried standing up but failed as cooper helped you up, hands on your waist to keep you steady as you look into his eyes.

“so did i, sugar.”

“i’m glad you’re here. don’t care you look different, coop.” you sigh with relief, caressing his chest as cooper nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing in your scent, glad you still smelled like warm vanilla. it made him feel more warm, the cold exterior he put on melting down because of you. it felt like for a moment that he was in home with you. the two of you dancing in the kitchen with the radio on after you made dinner.

“mhmm.” he hums, loving this feeling of having you in his arms finally as he caresses your hips to your waist. “feelings mutual, baby.” you giggle a bit when he kissed that spot on your neck.

“uhm…” both of you pulled apart for a moment at lucy’s interference. “just so you know, there’s a couple of roaches on the walls.” she points out as cooper whips you to his side as one lurches at him. you yelp at the sudden gunshot, shocked to see cooper handling a gun again. it kind of looked like he was acting in his cowboy movies with attire but you sure knew that this was not a movie as he eliminated each one. their guts splattered on the floor, sticky and green looking, you cover your ears from the gunshots as you watched your husband stomp on the last one.

“those were roaches?” you asked frantically, appalled at the sight, used to seeing those little critters being little.

“radiation does some fuck up evolution, sweetheart.” he explains calmly, taking your hand into his. for the first time in 200 years he finally feels that feeling he was denying for, hope. and that hope went straight to finding him to you. he kisses your hand lovingly, a promise made he’d protect you once you two get out of the vault.

“a lot has changed up here.” you look at him, there’s this unspoken sadness in his eyes. you understood what the world would like up there and you felt ready for it knowing he’s by your side as you nodded with determination.

“i’ll be ready to face it with you, coop.”