#hollow dweller

[earthworms-worm]

Common Hollow Dwellers enjoy getting snacks, and will do a little dance when given food!

Yes he is dancing upside down, and he is okay with that

[ophazines]

Applications for our RPG Maker zine are now opened! Artists and writers apply now! Applications close September 18th! Apply here!

[theliteraryluggage]

exclusively referring to ribcages as "breastbaskets" from now on tysm for this information

AHAHAHAHAHA you're welcome :D

go and spread the breastbasket propaganda!

[neptuniadoesstuff]

Goofy Ahh Sketch of my HK OC

Weird Godly Being reborn as another god's (who's ded) child who later becomes king of a kingdom filled with bugs.

Anyways... This is Dweller. My uh... Vessel creature thing who somehow unlike his siblings, actually has a gender bcs bro is actually a higher being reborn as a Vessel.

He's apart of a lil AU I created of HK called "King of Darkness" which features him. It's kinda more of a OC/Future based "AU" bcs KoD does kinda take place after Silksong (which we know ain't out but honest I rather wait for to come out bcs game are hard to make sometimes, trust I know bcs I made one & tbh am still not good)

This however is NOT the final product, but instead a sketch of what I'm gonna do with it in the... prob far future bcs.. I KEEP CHAMGIMG THIS MORON'S FEATURES BCS MY MEMEORY IS BAD!

Anyways.. My art, dont steal/take (W/o permission or credit), or I'll steal yur knees & throw them off a cliff, leaving you kneeless.

[rejectofsociety]

spotify wrapped game: 23

mr brownstone - guns n’ roses

Now I get up around whenever I used to get up on time But that old man he's a real motherfucker Gonna kick him on down the line

send me a number from 1-100 and I'll tell you the song and my favorite lyric!

[eupheme]

— below the belt [into the fire, part iv]

part i | part ii | part iii | masterlist

cooper howard / the ghoul x f!reader

rated e - 4k

tags: dubcon, power dynamics, vault dweller!reader, bounty hunting, sex for favors, sub/dom elements, brief somno, fingering, light degradation, oral (f & m), light ass play, hair pulling, swallowing, miscommunication, cooper is a diiiccckk, canon-typical violence and death

a/n: just a small warning there’s very brief references about pregnancy and infertility in this, in reference to reader’s vault (in regards to other members)

“I don’t think I‘ve ever been more desperate. Told myself I’d do anything to make sure they didn’t find me.” A small smile, then - as you remember, "But then I found you, and..."

As you turn, you notice he's gone still. Hat tipped down low, a guarded look as the pink of his tongue slips across his teeth.

"Huh. Should've known." He muses - voice slow and rough, "Think I'm startin’ to put things together."

(Or - you open up, and things don’t go as planned)

There’s a pressure at your hips. Something nudging your thighs apart, strong and solid. The ghost of fingertips at the hem of your shirt, pushing the fabric up.

You stir in your sleep, the dark room swimming. Jerking awake at the press of something against your core - a hand splayed across your lower back, pinning you down.

A snarl in your throat, as you try to twist away.

“Easy there, you lil’ yao guai.” The Ghoul’s voice cuts through the dark, and with it - you feel your muscles start to ease.

“What are you doing?” You croak sleepily.

“Takin’,” He husks - teeth biting into the leather of his gloves, tearing them from his fingers.

Cupping you, the heel of his palm pressing against your clothed cunt. Fingers sliding beneath the thin fabric of your underwear, as your thighs nudge wider.

Back arching, as you stretch out on your belly. A rough hum as you fill his palm. Warm against his fingers, as the tip of one rubs at your clit.

“Was just gonna sleep.” It’s quiet. You don’t know if it’s early or late - the room still bathed in moonlight, “But seeing all this skin, the way you’re offering up your pussy on a silver platter…”

He tugs at your underwear, ripping it down your thighs, “Makes a man wanna take a bite.”

Teeth sink into the soft curve of your ass - a yelp as you jerk beneath him. Glaring at him from over your shoulder, from beneath heavy eyelids.

He’d been gone all day. Something about needing to check the next place out. Not wanting you slowing him down.

There had been a spike of something in your stomach at his words. Fear. Unease.

Condescension dripping in his tone, in his “You best stay put, or I’ll make you stay put.”

Funny how after all this time, it’s him being apartfrom you that had you pacing. Checking out the battered windows, ready to dart back down to the basement. Fighting the nausea of the RadAway still that lingers in your system as the radiation purges itself, after the days before.

Busying yourself with more scavenging. Scrubbing the grime and dust from your clothes in a bucket of radiated water, your pants still hanging off the back of a chair to dry.

The hours slowly ticking by, until the sun dipped under the horizon. The thin blanket pulled up to your chin, as you waited - until finally, you drifted off.

You’re not ready to unpack that. Or the fluttering in your belly now. The relief.

His features are even more skull-like in the darkness, his hat discarded on a nearby table. Faint shadows cast across his face by the still-buzzing static of the television. Dark hollows carved out at his nose, the set of his eyes.

A smear of red against his cheekbone. Flaking off the leather of his discarded gloves. Adrenaline slowly leeching from his system, from an unexpectedly rough afternoon. Unable to resist the urge to sink into something soft and wanting.

There’s a low sound of amusement as he nudges at you, urging you onto your knees. Your back still arched, shirt riding up to where your tits still press into the bed, your face now buried in the crook of an arm.

“Ain’t this a sight.” His hands grasp at your hips, fingers denting flesh as he spreads you open. Baring all of you to him.

Spit pools on his tongue. The dip of his head as his lips part - letting it drip down, warm and wet against your holes.

It makes you gasp, clenching down around nothing. He must see it, how you string tight, with the rough exhale he makes.

Your fingers curl against the mattress. Holding you breath - waiting for the press of his cock, the sharp stretch that you know will follow. Waiting for whatever he gives you.

Not expecting the brush of his tongue, as it flattens against your folds. Languid when it flicks up to your entrance. The sound you make is ragged, thighs pressing together.

They’re caught by his hands. Wrapping around the crook of your knees, forcing them apart again.

“No you don’t.” He hums, feeling your muscles flex in his grip, “You best keep these nice and spread for me.”

Another exploratory lick, tasting you - a muffled groan as he discovers how wet you are when he parts you.

He’s never touched you like this. Your mind is still caught on the kiss, his tongue against your tits, knuckles bruised by the bite of his teeth. Never expecting to know the feeling of his mouth anywhere else.

You don’t want him to stop. Arching more, using your leverage on the mattress to hike yourself higher for him.

“That’s more like it, sweetheart.” He rasps, “You learn fast, I’ll give you that.”

You keen, as he teases at your clit. Tight flicks of his tongue that have you rocking against him. Smearing his spit and your slick across your skin, before his lips are following.

Devouring you. Groaning at your taste.

“Been dyin’ for another taste,” It’s almost a coo, with the syrupy drawl of his words - muffled against your cunt, “Sweeter than stolen honey.”

Marveling at how wet you are, for him - in this dry and dead desert landscape. Nothing but sand and death for miles but you’re here, soft and slick against his mouth, biting back a muffled whine for more.

His tongue dips into your tight heat. Feeling the tight clench of you as he presses close, unhindered by the bulk of a nose.

Your hips rock against his face. Fully awake now, eyes tightly shut. Soft sounds melding with the suck of his mouth, thigh muscles tight and trembling.

“S’good,” It’s rough from sleep. Quiet, as if afraid he’ll stop if you reveal just how good he feels, “Feels so fucking good.”

A whine when his mouth does leave you.

“Yeah?” His voice is low, as his hand leave your legs. Thumbs finding the curve of your thigh, pressing into the meat of your ass, “Like getting tongue-fucked by a Ghoul?”

Opening you up, his thumb ghosting across your clit. Your answer is half-moan, half-sound, as he pinches the tight bud.

“Only if it’s yours.”

He makes a low, rough sound at that. Palming himself from his position behind you.

“Still talkin’. Sounds like you need a little more.” It’s your only warning before two of his fingers nudge against your opening.

Your gasp rings out, turning soft when they press deep to fill you. The nudge of his thumb with each plunge of his fingers bringing you ever closer. Unable to help the rock of your hips, as his fingers curl inside you.

Each breath is a pushed from you. Ragged and high-pitched, as your fingers pinch tighter. The slight plateau spiking again as he strokes against a spot his cock had found.

Fingers twisting, as the pleasure climbs higher. A third fitting into you, one knuckle at a time. It’s almost too much, your legs pressing flush against his, knees locking as heat pools in your belly.

“Look at these tight little holes. Always takin’ what I give you,” He admires, as feels the way you clench down around him.

The tip of his thumb sweeping up. Following the path of slick and spit, until it rubs against your tight rim, “Good girl like you gonna let me in here, too?”

It shocks you. His words, that hint of praise. How unexpected his touch is. Your focus narrows to the pad of his thumb, the steady pump of his fingers. His groan rough as he feels you tighten around his fingers.

“Fuck. Filthy little thing.” He grins, adding the slightest pressure.

Your own moan is wanton, loud and needy in the near-silent room. So close you can almost reach out and taste it - ready to sink your teeth into the ripe flesh.

“I’m gonna-” You manage, but it peters off, slipping into a moan.

“What? You gonna come?” He mocks, but it’s ragged. Losing its edge with his own need - too focused the wet squelch of his fingers, how your hips buck against his palm.

The mattress is rough against your cheek as you nod. Words are all but stolen from you now, leaving unable to answer. Nothing left but the ache for your release, everything inside you winding tight.

With your soft sighs, his neck bends - another lick against your pussy, where his fingers still pound.

The next slick brush is against your clit. The tilt of his head so his tongue can flick at the tight bud. Again and again - and with the third, you feel yourself shatter.

You wail, as he rips it from you. A bright pulse that radiates inside you - your release dripping from you with the clench of your cunt. A low hum as he feels how hard you come around his fingers, against his tongue.

Eyes closed so tightly that stars spark behind your lids. There’s the rough cadence of his voice, but everything is muted except the pleasure that sends your nerves alight.

Not noticing the panting whines are coming from you, until you drift back down.

Softening, when his fingers ease from you. A hiss when he leaves you empty, already missing the heavy fullness.

“Flip over,” The Ghoul growls, as he leans back on his heels.

Your muscles tight in the best way from the bend of your knees, the pounding of his fingers. A soft groan as you shift, your back pressing into the mattress as your thighs open for him.

His eyes already there, seeing the slick shine between your legs, the pretty gape where he’s worked you open. There’s the clink of his belts, as he works himself free, achingly hard in his palm.

Anticipation swelling as you wait for him to hike your legs around his waist and bury himself in you.

That heavy gaze flicks up, instead. Bare skin, the pushed-up tangle of your shirt. The cock-drunk haze of your eyes. Your soft, parted lips as you catch your breath.

He’s like a shadow as he crawls up you. Tattered coat licking at your legs, lean thighs spreading as they bracket your ribs.

A hand plants next to your head as he arcs over you. The other wrapping around his cock - where it hangs heavy, brushing your chest.

Your eyes are wide, focused on the thick shine of him as he works your slick over his cock - how the flushed head disappears with the stoke of his fingers. Lips already parted in anticipation.

His hand unwrapping, fingers slipping against your bottom lip. Hooking around your teeth, as your tongue licks at his knuckles.

A sharp inhale, when you close around and suck.

“Gonna use this mouth,” He husks, “The way it ought to be used.”

Pressure against your jaw, until you’re opening. He leans back, thighs spreading wider. The hand by your ear leaving to curl around his base.

Eyes dark as he feeds himself into your mouth. You can’t help but moan when he hits your tongue - the musky taste of you that clings to him.

Fingers slipping free, but his eyes stay fixed as he inches between your lips. How quick you are to close around him - watching the grit of his jaw. Licking over the rough and uneven flesh, swollen and leaking against your tongue.

He eclipses everything else, with how he fills your vision. A hand slipping beneath your head to angle you, so you can take him deeper.

A shallow thrust that inches towards the back of your throat, constricting around him as you moan.

Intention in the way you slide your hands up for him. Fingers wrapped around the straps of the pack you were using as a pillow. His knees framing your tits, as he rocks into your mouth.

A silent submission that he does not miss. The curl of his lip and the shine of teeth, as you let him decide how much you can take.

His weight presses into your chest, keeping you pinned. Unable to go deep at this angle, but content with the hot suck of your mouth, the wet swirl of your tongue. Finding his rhythm, the clink of his spurs as his knees dig into the ground with each thrust.

There’s an unsteady buck of his hips, and his shaft scrapes against your teeth. You go still - eyes rounding with a jolt of fear - but all he does is let loose a rough groan, chin jutting as his teeth click together.

His hand still cradles the back of your head. Fingers twisting in the hair at the nape of your neck, but not enough to hurt. Almost as if grounding himself, as he pumps into your mouth.

“Goddamn.” He growls, “Should thank whoever taught you to suck cock. Gonna make me come, sweetheart-”

Your eyes do close then, resisting the urge to let your hands drift. To slide up his thighs, across his vest, aching to slip beneath. They curl instead, grasping at the straps.

Air rushing into your lungs, as he pulls from you. Eyes fluttering open to catch the way he strokes himself, angling the tip towards your parted and glossy lips.

“You gonna take it?” He rasps, and you nod - letting your tongue peek out for him.

His hand tugs at your hair, his chin tipping down to watch, “Wanna hear you say it. You gonna let me fill your pretty mouth?”

You don’t know when use became let, but if he wants your permission - he has it. It’s always been his, even when it’s been wrapped tightly around you. Tied up in a bow.

“Yeah,” Your eyes are on his when you say it. Focusing on the grit of his jaw, the dark shine of his eyes, “I wanna taste you.”

His fingers tighten, brow pinching. A jerk of his hips into his fist - something bitten back between his teeth, caught in the heave of his chest.

“Open.” The Ghoul groans, and it’s all the warning you get before he’s coming - spilling across your lips, and then into the wet heat of your mouth.

Your eyes flicking up to watch again, though you’re torn. Tempted to watch the rough jerk of his fist, all that exposed skin. But it’s nothing compared to the way he looks at you as you take him. The weight of his gaze, the baring of teeth that has nothing to do with anger.

The Ghoul still tastes like a man should, as the salt of him as it floods your tongue. The kick of his length between your lips with each throb, his eyes rolling shut as he milks himself into your mouth.

His thumb smears across your lower lip, before it sinks inside to join his cock. A ragged breath, when he feels you swallow around both. Your tongue flicking across your lips when he eases from you, the tips of your fingers wiping away the rest.

“Fuckin’ Christ.” It’s a low exhale, a held tension gone from his shoulders. Fingers finally loosening from your hair, though you would have kept your heady steady for him without them.

He flops down on the mattresses, where they are pushed together. Stretching out beside you, the long hours finally catching up to him.

A lift of his hips as he tucks himself away, as you reach down to find the twist of fabric around your knees - tugging your underwear back into place.

Your mind is blissfully quiet - drowsy again, in the late hour and your post-orgasmic haze. Warm, as you roll on your side, studying him from under half-lidded eyes.

He’s close. Enough you can see the rough cut of his cheekbones, the straight line of his teeth. A second as you wonder, not for the first time, what he might have looked like before.

Your cheek grazes his shoulder, as a dark eye flicks your way. An arm splayed out, still tucked beneath your neck from where he had angled your head.

The phantom pinch of his fingers still lingers. The taste of him on your tongue when you lick against your teeth.

“What?” He grouses - as he does, when he can’t read you. When you manage to surprise him.

“Nothing.” You murmur, sleepily, “Just glad you made it back.”

It’s easy then, for your head to tilt without thinking. For your lips to ghost against his throat, where his pulse flutters beneath rough skin.

A ragged breath rattles in his chest, when you press another kiss lazily against his jaw. He stiffens beside you, fingers curled in the fabric of your shirt.

Before he’s pushing - rolling you over. Tucking you between him and the old basement wall, his back to the locked door.

“Yeah, yeah.” He grunts. All bark now, with the way his bare fingers splay across your skin, where your shirt has ridden up.

“Get some sleep. Long walk tomorrow.”

The morning dawns, and there’s something about it that seems more clear.

Or maybe it’s just you, your mind drifting back to the night before. How you woke up with the heavy press of him against you.

It hadn’t lasted long - a rough groan against your ear. Nothing said as the hat fixed itself back where it belongs. A silent tilt of his head towards to door, indicating the departure.

He still follows behind you, but you think just a bit of that gap between you has closed. A silent corner being turned, somewhere between dusk and dawn.

Only thing shared is that he’s narrowed the bounty down to a settlement, six miles from here. Deeper into the desert, instead of the crop of trees you had been hoping to head towards. Shade would be a welcome improvement, to the miles on empty road.

Maybe before, you would have been disappointed. But somehow - today - you don’t mind.

"Yesterday." The Ghoul’s voice comes from behind you - some time later, "You didn't want to stay alone."

It's not a question, but you can hear the way his words trail off. A second as you pick through your thoughts, settling on something you’ve been carrying since the beginning.

"Didn't want to be found." The wind carries your words back to him.

A few more steps pass, before he's asking, "What'd a thing like you do to get a bounty?"

Your steps slow, until he's beside you. A sideways look sent his way, catching his eye.

"You took it." It's the first real time it's been addressed, after your init meeting, "Wouldn't you know?"

He could outpace you if he wanted, with those long legs. Content enough at the moment, to stick by your side, "I know what I know. Wanna hear your side."

You hum, contemplating. Wondering how to explain. If it would make sense to a man like him. If he’d think you were weak.

"Our Overseer had a… god complex," You start slowly - never having to explain it out loud, trying to find the words, "Had it coded in the beginning that only his direct, patrilineal bloodline could work the Vault. Everything went through him."

Food. Water. Power. Everything locked under codes and keys. Thumbprints and DNA, the role of Overseer shared across the current generation.

"All his sons, then their sons, and so on... they all got married off to other families in the Vault. Or they’d find a way to bring in new blood from the outside.” Your mother had been a Wastelander, carrying you when she had been traded. You had never seen the sun until a few weeks ago.

“If you couldn't produce a male heir, you disappeared. If you tried to leave, they'd bring you back, and then you'd disappear. Been like that a long time."

A whispered secret that many knew. Followed, because the security of control and safety outweighed the horrors of the unknown. The knowledge that whether you left or not, your bones would stay in the Vault.

"So what? Didn't want to play the role of broodmare in your utopia?" He sneers, and it's not the first time you've picked up on his distaste of the Vaults, of Vault Dwellers like you.

“Seems like a goddamn picnic compared to the shit you see up here."

“You asked.” Your arms cross over your chest, as you scowl at him.

A few weeks ago and you would have gone silent. Now, you’re starting to her used to his gruff comments, the sharp bristle. Waiting, until his eyes tear away, a small jerk of his chin to continue.

"My name got drawn. Was supposed to marry one. But… in the last five years he's gone through three wives. Not a single child." You can feel the weight of his gaze on your face, the pinch of his brow.

A beat, as you start off again, "Told you, I worked as a chemist. I saw his vitals. It wasn't them, but  for it."

"So you left." His words comes reluctantly, as he fits the pieces together, "I take it they weren't happy about that."

"Wasn't gonna let it be me next." You nod, "But no, they weren't. Like I said, no one truly leaves, but I was dead either way, right?”

A beat, as you take a breath to steady yourself. Stuck in the fear from that day and the ones that followed, afraid of your own shadow.

“I don’t think I‘ve ever been more desperate. Told myself I’d do anything to make sure they didn’t find me.” A small smile, then - as you remember, "But then I found you, and..."

As you turn, you notice he's gone still. Hat tipped down low, a guarded look as the pink of his tongue slips across his teeth.

"Huh. Should've known." He muses - voice slow and rough, "Think I'm startin’ to put things together."

"What are you talking about?" You ask with a frown, thrown off by the change in pace.

"I think you know." He presses, your eyes flicking down to watch the way his wrist reflexively presses against the butt of his revolver, where it juts from his holster.

Scowling now, stalking closer, "Not a bad plan, Vaultie. Was gonna have to fuck someone either way, right? Might as well pick the man with the biggest gun. That what you thought?”

There's venom in his tone, biting into you. The first time his fury has fully been directing at you, freezing you in place.

A shake of your head, your voice sounding small, "It's-, it’s not like that."

You haven’t been using him. Not like he thinks, though you don’t know why he’s so angry. He’s treated almost everything like a transaction - keeping you at arms length.

You’ve been the one that’s falling, not him.

"Christ, you really had me going. You're a damn good liar, you know that?" He spits, with a low shake of his head. A scoff, as his eyes narrow, "Been wondering why you’ve been offerin’ yourself up so eagerly to me."

It makes your head spin, as you try to make sense of his words. Another small shake, the words caught in your throat.

You don't know how to explain that your desperation in the beginning did have its roots in self-preservation. But in all the days and moments that have passed - that surely, surely he couldn’t still think so.

“I know how it sounds but, I-” Your words cut off, as a hand reaches out, wrapping around your bicep. Yanking you closer until you stumble.

"You do, huh? Let me tell you, all you did was trade one devil for another.” The words ground out, snarled between clenched teeth, “You're a goddamn fool if you think I hadn’t been planning on turnin' you in the first chance I get."

His words chip away at your heart. With an effort you try to wrench your arm away - a shove against his chest that does nothing, as your own fury boils inside you.

"How can you say that? You found me, asshole." You snarl, "I haven't lied about anything. I could have left, but I stayed because I wanted to. Didn’t last night mean anything to you?”

“It was just business.” He growls, “Ain’t that right?”

The look he gives you is the final piece that shatters you, as his fingers pinch harder against your skin.

He never cared after all.

Your throat aches. The urge to fight, to make him understand, slips through your fingers. Another shove, harder this time, right into his gut. A ragged breath as his grip loosens, and it's all you can do to twist on your heel.

Shooting him a venomous glance from over your shoulder, "If you're going to take me in, then fucking do it."

You don’t care anymore. Waiting for the rope to lasso around your waist. Bind tightly around your throat, until it chokes you.

But, it doesn't.

You don't look back.

Tears prick your eyes, as you hoist your pack higher on your shoulder. One of the few things that has made the journey with you - so much shed over the miles.

You had endured enough. Had thought something had changed, since those first days together. That maybe, as the days had passed, he had softened. That maybe you weren’t alone in your feelings. That offer just a mask, to act on them. 

All you did was trade one devil for another.

A foolish thought. It makes your jaw grit, an angry shake of your head. You wouldn't cry over him, not after everything you've been through.

The edge of the abandoned town passes, fuzzy with the way your eyes fix ahead.

Blinded to the rest of the world, as you set off for the unknown.

Small pieces forming a loose semblance of a plan. Something about another settlement, a while down the road, into the forest. No bounty there, but you didn’t give a shit anymore.

With the food in your pack, you might be able to trade for some caps. Find some work - maybe stick around, if it's safe.

If not, it's not like you're not used to sleeping on the ground.

Sand leads to dirt paths, then to grass. Brushing your ankles as you weave through the barren forest, the bark stripped bare and bleached by the sun.

The weight of him follows you, though you do not turn around. A hand held loosely on your holster by habit more than anything, as you pick your way across fallen branches.

You didn't need him. Right now you tell yourself you didn't even want him.

But, you’ve never been a good liar.

There's the snap of a branch, then. A metallic creak.

It's cruel, how your heart leaps. How you look for him, breath held with the swivel of your head.

Only to feel like you are falling, when it's not the Ghoul. When a figure steps out from the trees. Two more from an outcropping of rock.

Your body freezes on its own, when you see them. All familiar.

The two from the town, those days ago. Springing to your mind now, as you had peered from over his shoulder at the bounty board. The amateurs - the man with the scar, and his partner.

And the other. All that blue - encased in padded leather armor. He is the one that makes your blood run cold, your fingers curling into fists.

Baine. He was from your Vault. Someone they sent out to bring people back, and every time they came home battered - left to you to patch up, if they lived that long.

"Took a bit you find you," He smiles, though it does not reach his eyes, "Had to enlist in some local help. Thought you'd never split off from that creature."

Your head whips to the side, as they shift - trying to box you in. Fear and fury licks in you, as you grit out, "He's not a creature."

He scoffs, "You keep strange company, but you'll be back where you belong soon enough. I am sure the Overseer will be... forgiving, if you come quietly."

The man with the scar lunges - reaching for your arm. At the same time, you remember yourself. Just able to get your fingers around the butt of your gun, drawing it out.

There's a snarl but you're firing - downing him just before he reaches you, his body careening over the edge of the rock. Your aim twitches towards Baine, but he's faster.

His hand wrapping around your wrist, twisting until you cry out - fingers opening. A sharp pain in your chest, as his fist slams into it.

Fingers unfurling to reveal the syringe, slipped between your ribs. The plunger flush with the base - whatever was inside, already flooding through you.

"Should've gone quietly, girl." It's faded, as if you're in a tunnel. The world tilting on an axis, as your legs give out.

You cry out, for him - the broken noise sounding like it comes from a thousand miles away.

And then… there's nothing.

(someone got their feelings hurt 👀) thank you so much for reading!! 💖 I have really loved writing this and them, really appreciate all the love!!

[m1d-45]

i love your sagau/imposter au fics so much (esp kazuha’s),, do you think nahida would be able to sense if the creator isnt an imposter because of her having access to Irminsul and being able to see if there are records of them? anyways okok so uh hear me out, maybe the creator tries to seek safety in sumeru while they’re being hunted? sorry if this is a lengthy ask ekwjkwm anyways thanks for reading, ur amazing !

sandy refuge

word count: 3.4k

-> warnings: spoilers for the final sumeru archon quest

-> gn reader (you/yours)

taglist: @samarill || @thenyxsky || @valeriele3 || @shizunxie || @boba-is-a-soup || @yuus3n || @esthelily || @turningfrogsgay || @cupandtea24 || @genshin-impacts-me || @chaoticfivesworld || @raaawwwr

< masterlist >

sumeru was a deadly nation.

liyue was guarded by the adepti, and inazuma’s storms tore the sea around the archipelago to shreds, but sumeru…

sumeru, the land of wisdom, headed by academics and led by scholars and sages. the nation split in two, lush forests barely a stones throw from barren deserts, believers of two (three?) separate gods walking side by side through the city. for a nation so divided, it was rare to get everybody to agree on something, every decision inevitably and invariably leaving some group of people unsatisfied.

and yet, there they were, united under one flag. eremites and the matra, the beige robes of the desert dwellers shifting in the wind besides the glittering armor of the akademiya’s soldiers, spears and swords aligned towards the same target.

it would be beautiful, if only you weren’t the one they rallied against.

you didn’t know how long you had been running when you managed to work your way past the wall, nor how long you had managed to stumble across sand dunes before finding your current oasis.

literally. trees swayed around a large pool of clear water, thick grass cushioning your knees as you barely hesitated before cupping some in your hands and drinking. it was blessedly cool, and you were tempted to swim in it and let it soothe the continuous heat from the desert sun. sadly, you didn’t have a spare set of clothes, and you weren’t keen on stripping when the matra could storm the place at any moment.

or the eremites. or the corp of thirty. or literally anybody else, since you’ve apparently been declared public enemy number one.

you splashed some water on your face and over your head, goosebumps rising where a drop raced beneath the collar of your shirt. how water was so cold when the sand was so hot, you didn’t know, but you weren’t going to complain.

after drinking a few more handfuls of the water, you finally looked around. there was a large spire of stone next to the oasis, flanked by large trees, with a thankfully abandoned hilichurl hut beside it.

you try not to think about how an archer would have had an easy shot as you were drinking.

at the base of a few of the trees is something green, and you remember the nuts that grew in the desert. you were too wary of the henna berries and the cacti they grew on to try and eat those, but you distinctly remember these being used in a few recipes.

all you could do was hope they were edible raw.

you stood—your vision blurred, the ground tilting, but you ignored it—and walked around the oasis, inspecting the green and hoping it wasn’t a fungus.

good news, it wasn’t. bad news, it was the husk of one of the nuts, hollow without any of the fruit inside. fresh, by the looks of it, the green leaves squishing instead of crumbling when you kicked at them.

great.

you sat on the curved trunk of one of the trees, holding up a hand to shade your eyes as you looked up. you could see another nut, hanging off the top of a tree, but.. the bark of the trees were smooth, and any of your athletic abilities were worn away by exhaustion and malnutrition.

you let your head drop and tried not to focus on your hunger, instead inspecting the mix of sand and grass beneath your feet. sand and grass. all of sumeru, represented right at your feet. hot, slippery sand, and cool, spiky grass. the desert and the forest, two wildly different ecosystems, and yet… both drove you out.

you tried not to cry, to push away the helplessness of the situation, but you couldn’t. what had you done, you wondered, for your very face to cause such an uproar? for two separate groups of people, divided in location, name, and faith to ally in their shared hatred of you? if somebody asked you what the millelith, matra, and eremites had in common about six months ago, you couldn’t have answered. you’d have thought about it, maybe, but drawn a blank outside of ‘defenders.’

but what were they defending? and how were you a threat?

when the first tear fell, so did something else.

you jumped at the dense thud, digging your nails—overgrown, bitten at, broken—into the bark as you searched for the source of the noise.

a large fruit had fallen, the one you were eyeing earlier by the looks of it. it sat atop the empty husk of another, magically fallen from the tree by seemingly nothing.

you weren’t going to complain.

you slid off the tree, reaching for the nut, grabbing the stem and pulling, but dropped it just as fast. a fungus was standing just behind it, large orange eyes looking up at you.

you were frozen. would it attack you? was it trying to eat? did they even need to? could you get sick from fungus spores? even if you couldn’t, getting hurt wasn’t worth the meal…

the fungus tilted to one side, then the other, bumping the large fruit towards you.

it… was giving it back?

you stared, but the fungus didn’t move. when you carefully tugged at the nut, slowly drawing it closer so you could properly pick it up, it didn’t move. it just watched you, the rim of its cap slightly falling into its eyes.

you sat back on the tree, pulling it into your lap. the outer leaves were coarse, softening as you pulled away the many layers. there was a high chance some of the inner leaves were edible, but you didn’t want to take chances. the fruit itself was a pale green, easily tearing under your fingers. it was soft, with the barest edge of sweetness that had you prying up more. it wouldn’t make for a full meal, but it was certainly far better than nothing.

you checked on the fungus every once in a while, but it just stood there. by your guess, it was the floating anemo kind, but where was its group? fungi rarely appeared alone, and part of you felt bad.

(felt bad. for a fungus. you’re in dirty, torn clothes and on the run for your life, and you still find the empathy for a fungus. at least you knew your morals were still intact.)

you offered a piece of the nut to the fungus, but it didn’t react. instead it turned, floating into the air and drifting away.

…alright.

you try to eat the fruit slowly, as to not make yourself sick, taking breaks to sip more water from the lake to dim the sweetness. you didn’t know how long the fruit would stay good now that you’d opened it, but you were trying to enjoy it. its not as if you were overflowing with excess, and you likely couldn’t linger here long. you don’t even know why you resorted to the desert anyway.. between cyno, the ruins, scorpions, the primal constructs.. to say it was dangerous was an understatement. even if you made it to the far west, the pari were there, and you didn’t think they would take too kindly to you. fontaine wouldn’t be much better, provided you somehow crossed the sea around it…

nowhere was safe. you supposed that was the point, that nobody would give you refuge, but it still hurt. you didn’t think you’d ever land in this situation when you first downloaded the game..

whatever. you’re not going to go down that path for the nth time. you hold the remains of the nut in one arm as you stand, picking off chunks as you walk toward the hilichurl hut. with any luck there would be something useful inside, or at least be a safe place to rest temporarily.

the camp looks like it’s been clear recently, which is both good and bad. good, because neither hilichurls nor patrols should come by here for a bit, but bad because it lowers your chances of finding anything useful. there’s no arrowheads or vegetables, not even embers in the fire pit, all the supply boxes long since broken.

at least it’s shelter. at least you had food today, and (hopefully) clean water. small wins, small wins…

you gather your strength and begin to drag all the rubble into the hut, using what was left of their training dummies to make a hollow pile. hopefully it would just look like trash to anyone walking by, and could maybe keep you warm. the scraps of furs littered over the camp were matted with something you didn’t want to think about, so this was your best bet.

man, you missed your bed.

you returned to the oasis for more water, scrubbing off some of the dirt from your arms and face. you wouldn’t be clean for long, what with the dirt floor you’d picked as your shelter, but it felt nice. a topical fix for a bone deep wound.

you didn’t try to clean your clothes, eyeing the sun dipping in the sky. having wet clothes wouldn’t help at night, even if it might feel good. perhaps tomorrow? yes, tomorrow. tomorrow you could scrub at your shirt—*blood doesn’t clean easily without soap*—and try to undo some of the knots in your hair, maybe even use leaves and some of the scraps of twine around the camp to bring some water with you.

tomorrow. you got this. surely.

(just ignore the fact that you don’t know where in the desert you are. or how easy it would be to get lost, or dehydrate. nope. this is a perfectly fine and normal situation that you have an okay amount of control over. you got this. you have to.)

you return to the hut, retrieving the other half of your fruit and taking it with you into your pitiful shelter. at least you didn’t have to worry about rain…

it was only slightly cramped beneath the pile of junk, but you had enough room for you and your food. you laid there for a long time, occasionally peeling off pieces to eat. you didn’t know how much was left, and you didn’t think about it, distracting yourself by thinking about tomorrow. if you were clever with some sticks you could fashion some wider soles for your shoes to get more grip on the sand, or maybe a hat to keep from burning… but there was water and food to worry about, but the area along the wall was certainly dangerous, but it might be worth it if it meant you lived a little longer…

you fell asleep at some point, the faint sweetness of your dinner lingering on your tongue.

normally, waking up to someone barely a foot from your person would be unsettling. in your situation, it was terrifying.

you immediately pushed yourself back, crawling backwards away from nahida. she was kneeling, seeming surprised at your actions. you almost wondered how she was out here, and in your survey of the area, it clicked.

you weren’t in the hut anymore. you’d missed it in your fear, but you were lying on grass, in a small meadow. you didn’t pay too much attention to it though, putting a hand to your chest to try and calm your heart.

“just a dream,” you breathed, and nahida’s expression fell. not into anger, more.. sadness?

“i’m sorry if i startled you.” her voice was soft, but flat, motions stiff as she stood up and dusted off her dress.

what a weird dream. first you’re lucid, then she’s here… maybe it was wishful thinking. maybe your brain had finally had enough.

“it’s fine,” you said, taking another look around the field. tall trees arched high above you, the bushes and ferns between them reminding you of the rainforest. in the center were three chairs, with various plates laid out on the table between them. you stood, automatically wiping for any grass caught on you, only to find that you were actually wearing clean clothes again—one of your favorite outfits, actually.

you mostly ignored nahida as you walked to the table, looking over the various dishes. you recognized a few as sumeru recipes, but not all of them, deciding to pick at a bowl of fruit instead. you’re not sure how dreams work here—you haven’t had many since coming to teyvat—but it feels safer to stick with a food you’ve actually tried before.

(you ignore the nut from the oasis. calculated risk.)

“i hope they’re to your liking?” nahida’s voice is hesitant as she comes to your side, sitting in one of the chairs. you don’t do the same.

“i’m surprised i remember so many of these,” you say instead, looking over the sheer variety of food laid out. your subconscious has done well.. almost a bit too well.

“eat. you need the energy.”

“i’ll just miss them in the morning, and it’s not like they’ll give me any actual nutrition.”

“…please, my god.”

your head whips to her in an instant, the fruit falling from your hand as if it was poison. it could be, considering everything.

even after all these months, you’d let your guard down. in front of the one god who had control over dreams, you ate of her food and showed that you were weak.

nahida raises her hands, and you have half a mind to grab a knife off the table. it wouldn’t do anything, but it would make you feel better. “it’s just me. there’s nobody else in this dream.”

you should have known better. “leave me alone.”

“i mean you no harm, i only-“

you put your hands over your ears and close your eyes, trying to make yourself wake up. you pictured the walls of the hut, of your makeshift shelter and the leaves of last night’s dinner. you pretend you can’t hear her voice, that the only sound is the whisper of the wind.

if only you’d remembered her powers quicker, or perhaps discovered yours sooner.

you don’t know how long it took you to break free from the dream, or if you managed to break it at all. you just knew that you woke up to the sounds of talking from outside your hut, the words were faint but still discernible from the wind. two voices, one soft and one rough, picking their way around the oasis.

you didn’t dare try to run, instead shifting some of the wood in your pile to cover the entrance. where could you even go if they found you? west was dangerous, east was deadly, north led you into either a sandstorm or a dead-end sea, and south was entirely uncharted, and that was assuming you even made it that far.

they came closer, and you reached for one of the smaller planks in your small shelter. it was still about the length of your forearm, and though the rest of the stack shifted, you felt a bit safer. maybe you could hide in a cave for a while until they left? no, that would mean you’d have to get enough of a lead to lose them, and you doubted you could run that fast.

“-abandoned.” there was a sound like a rock kicked against the side of the hut, covering the sound of your breath as you recognized the voice. “you sure this is the right place?”

wanderer.

“i’m certain, i saw it myself.”

and nahida. she probably tapped into your mind to see where you were trying to wake up to… it would be clever if your life wasn’t on the line.

footsteps drew ever closer, and it was getting hard to judge the distance. the hut was empty save for your little scrap pile, but how close was too close? could you even have a chance with wanderer’s skill? not to mention the dendro archon…

maybe you were doomed from the start. there was no good ending for you, just a constant delay of the fate that you dodged when you first set foot on this planet.

how long has it been? how much time have you borrowed? teyvat had ghosts, would you become one? would you return to earth? did your earth even exist anymore? this was not the time for this debate…

a shadow moved, and nahida’s voice was far closer than it was before. “divine one?”

you bit your cheek as to not laugh. ‘divine one.’ she already had a god, the one that had ordered this mess to begin with. the first person you ran into, ironically, who had on sight declared you a criminal. you didn’t want to be associated with that person at all, thank you. did she think that you thought you were the god? you wouldn’t be hiding if you did.

“buer. you’re talking to a pile of sticks.”

“i’m aware.” her voice grew quieter, like she’d turned around. “but we need to be patient.”

“there’s an easier way to do this, you know.”

“after all that’s happened? there’s no easy solution to this.”

“that’s not what i…” he sighed. “can i show you something?”

“what is it?”

the air hissed, your pile broken by a blade of wind down the middle. the anemo curved around you, acting as a shield as the wood splintered and flew. you quickly pushed yourself up, sitting against the wall and looking between the two of them. nahida looked terrified, and the shock on wanderer’s face is comical. looks like he didn’t expect you to actually be in there.

he removed his hat from his head, quickly dropping to one knee, nahida doing the same barely a moment after. “my god.. i apologize for my haste.”

pardon?

nahida lifted her head, meeting your eyes with a hand to her chest. “and i’m sorry for invading your dream earlier. i just wanted to find you, and when i noticed you were in sumeru..”

wanderer is too prideful to apologize to anybody he doesn’t absolutely need to, even for a plan.. jut what’s going on here?

you fix your attention on nahida and hope she’s not a good liar. “don’t you already have a god you follow?”

nahida flinched, looking away. “that… was a mistake. i should have trusted my instincts, and for that i’m sorry. i had no idea that my silence would lead to this…”

either she’s a really convincing actor, or she means it. given the severity of the situation, you don’t want to assume.

“if it helps…” wanderer’s hands tighten on his hat, and he bows his head further. “my anemo protected you. even if i did mean to cause harm, that is more than enough proof of your identity.”

“…so i’m supposed to believe you? just like that?”

nahida shook her head. “i understand your apprehension. it’s hard to trust someone after everyone else has betrayed you, and i don’t expect you to come with me to the sanctuary right away. aaru village is close by, though, and i was hoping you would be willing to go there..?”

some part of you still thinks it’s a trick, that there would be a swarm of matra waiting for you. but honestly… running is tiring, and nahida is kind. you want to believe her, even if it does end up going poorly. what else do you have to lose, really?

you drop your poor excuse for a weapon, briefly checking your hands for splinters before standing up. you kick aside the remains of your dinner and dust yourself off, walking forward. “alright. i’ll go with you.”

nahida beams.

[willtheweaver]

Suspiciously specific and specifically vague writing prompts

• Extraterrestrial archaeologists in the far future uncover your body. They then write a scientific paper on humans based off of what they found out about you.

• Retell your favorite myth or fairy tale in a modern setting

• Turn a modern of futuristic story into a mythological epic

• Your OCs realize they are fictional characters. *Cue chaos and existential crisis*

• Good news: you’ve reincarnated into your favorite video game. Bad news: you’re a self-aware NPC (Al-la VLDL)

• Have you ever wondered what a tree thinks?

• A murder victim’s ghost does everything in their power to get the attention of the dim-witted detective assigned to the case

• Hero is given everything in order to stop the apocalypse and yet they still find a way to fail

• Make a grand story out of something mundane

• What would happen if the dancing plague occurred today?

• You must use tropes that you hate, and are totally overused. Find some way to make them work;turn them on their head, use malicious compliance, totally invert them

• What is the real reason why no one turned up to Professor Hawkins’ party

•A white hat, a blogger, and an AI must team up to stop an international hacking ring before they start WW 3 (bonus if none of the unlikely heroes get along)

• An atheist is deemed worthy enough to receive the mantle of god. Awkward… and what exactly are the philosophical implications?

• You’re a mimic. Describe a day in the life of tricking (and devouring) foolish adventures.

• Someone from the past is resurrected. They go on a rampage when they find out that [great deed/feat of engineering/ work of genius] is being credited to [aliens/Atlantis/ Hollow Earth dwellers, etc.]

[forlix]

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱𝘀・710 / 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴・hyunjin x gn!reader / 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲(𝘀)・domestic fluff, established relationship, just self-indulgent brainrot about hyun's dimples tbh

𝟬𝟵:𝟬𝟮 — When your eyes open, you’re met with a ceiling doused in flaxen sunlight, the foliage outside your window casting oscillating shadows against your bedroom walls. As you blink your drowsiness away, you become aware also of the warm weight on your chest and the hill of tousled hair in your periphery.

You lift your head about an inch off the pillow to take in your current circumstance, and it takes every ounce of will power in you to stifle the sound of delight that bubbles to your lips.

Hyunjin does this thing in his sleep sometimes, where he’ll find a way to sandwich you between him and the mattress (he’s only using his upper half today; his toes are hanging off the edge of the bed), and then attach to you like a sloth to its favorite branch, his arms confined around your waist, his head nestled on top of your collar.

It doesn’t happen often, granted, but it might as well be your birthday whenever it does. He wakes up an embarrassed mess in the face of your glee, and you don’t let him live it down for days afterward. You even have a rotation of jokes for the occasion by now, your favorite being the one where you go, wow, you must really like me, huh? And he answers yes like he’s being held at gunpoint.

Happy birthday to me, you hum.

You gently sweep your fingers through your boyfriend’s unwieldy locks, still soft and scented from his shower last night. The movement causes Hyunjin’s eyelids to twitch, his throat to thrum with a low, weary grunt; and he shifts a little, burying his face in the crook of your neck, flexing his hands where they lay curled against your back.

And then he realizes.

“No,” he whispers, the sound hoarse and horrified.

“Morning, baby,” you coo. “How did you sleep?”

“No," he repeats, this time dragging out the vowel of the word. And he untangles an arm to drag the duvet over his head, burrowing into the cozy material.

Not about to let him escape, you follow suit, only to discover that he has assumed the fetal position beneath the covers. You finally emit the giggle that you’ve been holding back since you woke up.

Cotton falls against the surface of your cheek when you settle into your new position: sort of awkwardly tucked near Hyunjin’s side, your face so close to his that your noses brush together when you try to look at him. The morning light is mostly snuffed by the fabric over your heads, but there’s just enough visibility for you to drink in the rosy coloration of his skin and the rich carob brown of his tired eyes.

“Such a drama queen,” you murmur. Your hands cradle his cheeks and your lips press to the tip of his nose, to which he scrunches up his face in faux disdain. “As if I didn't already know that you're secretly some sort of tree-dweller.”

“You’re so annoying,” Hyunjin replies, absolutely zero conviction in his small, sleep-ridden voice, and you kiss his nose another time, then another. This coaxes a soft, helpless smile to his face, the kind that turns his eyes to little boomerangs and dots dimples on his cheeks like sesame seeds.

“And you—”

You move to kiss said dimples now, your lips moulding against the tender hollows that you so adore. In response, Hyunjin bursts into a peal of bashful laughter, which ironically causes them to disappear.

“—are everything.”

There's a flurry of movement, a flourish of cloth; and then you once again find yourself lying beneath him, except now he is wide awake, and surveying you with such immense affection that you feel like a bowl of gelatin.

He dips down and kisses you, as slowly and sweetly as the pace of the halcyon morning. Raven locks of hair skim your closed eyelids; slender fingers curve over your jaw; the soft sounds of your lips moving together buoy against the underside of the covers.

“Oh, by the way,” you break away to say with a playful lilt, and he preemptively groans because he knows what's coming, "you must really like me."

Hyunjin replaces his mouth upon yours before you can make another sound, his next words nearly unintelligible when they vibrate against you.

"You’re lucky I do."

𝗹𝗶𝗸𝗲𝗱 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

© 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗹𝗶𝘅 (est. 090323) · all works are pieces of original writing and all characters and relationships are purely fictional. please do not repost or reuse for any reason.

[anjian]

Notes below.

1. Lubraean adult and infant.

2. The City. I think there are still many things to iterate on here. The scale is too small, and there needs to be terraced farms in place around the beam. Overall, architecture needs its own dedicated post.

3. "I kill many looking for a sign of you. Wash my hands with their blood in the hopes of your continued existence."

4.

“My cell was dark. I did not fear the dark. It may have been enough to make the City-dwellers cower, but I was able to rest when they let me, oblivious to the other inmates' snivelling cries. They begged for light and warmth; I carried it within me. Ever since Father was taken, a fire had burned inside my chest. I had fed it with the bones of my enemies, and no amount of blood would quench it until Father was returned to me. My real Father – not the coward they had made of him, with dulled teeth and bound quills and sandalled feet, dressed in such an unnatural white that I could not bear to look at him, only his shadow as the Stalkers forced my face into the dirt. In the dark, I still dreamed of rescuing him. One day, when they were careless, when my nails had grown back, I would act. I would slay all who would stop me. I would find him, I would grab him by the arm, I would wrestle him back into the forest. I never did manage to kill any of the wardens, though it was not for lack of trying. I fed my little light with my dreams instead.

“But, my Witness, that light… that light was nothing before the Light.

“It was already the dry season when they brought me before the jury. The butcher’s stone was cold against my cheek. The Light did not warm it. Father spoke of reason, of setting examples and paying debts. There was no warmth to his words, either. The judgemental stare of the crowd did not inspire shame. The weight of the Glaive against my neck did not engender fright. I felt as though I was a hollow vessel, made of clay instead of flesh. My quills lay flat against my spine. I could not even feel my own heartbeat. There was no fire inside, after all. The Light had burned it out. It had seared away my delusions of fighting back, and I was left only with the desire to separate Father’s head from his neck.”

5. Rhulk's "Apocalypse Maiden" outfit.

6-8. Shattered Suns lorebook ending.

[silvercompassmaps]

Elven Tree Loft

High above the towering canopy of the forest lives a race of nimble, reclusive folk, who guard over their homes with great determination.

The wood elves of this village are self-sufficient, and live united by a common creed to protect their homeland, at whatever cost. These forest-dwellers may serve as valuable allies...if you manage to convince them of your cause.

This Elven Tree Loft has three entrances with stairs leading into hollowed-out tree trunks, with bridges connecting to other living spaces that have been constructed on top of trees. Rectangular platforms decked with crossbows have been propped up at various points to provide protection to this settlement.

These maps come with day/night versions and three variants!

You can download the original high-res map for free here.

Check out my entire map archive here.

[earthworms-worm]

Imagine being the size of a bug, I wonder what that would be like...

Another Hollow Dweller drawing! This time featuring a person with their arm freshly bitten off! (These guys can and will grow up to unimaginable sizes).

While Hollow Dwellers aren't normally hostile, it is easy to make yourself look like a threat (or a tasty snack).

I had no idea what to do for the background, so I just went with whatever this ended up being!

[ophazines]

We're opening an interest check for the second volume of RPZinemaker, an RPG Maker zine! We hope to have celebrate classics like Yume Nikki and Ib and newer games such as Halope and SLARPG! We have many interesting questions this time pertaining to merch, a physical release, etc! Please let us know your thoughts! https://forms.gle/QymPta2Qj8RJvE2U6

[midgetmoth]

{ Master Post - RQ1 }

[ First Art Request - Starlight AU ] This is my first event done for the Starlight AU. I will be listing the Creators/Owners along with other details. --------------------------------------------------------- Species: Those with wings: Sky Dwellers Those with no back legs and have long tails: Cave Dwellers Those with fins but have back legs: Shore Dwellers Those with fins but no back legs: Ocean Dwellers Those with just feline-like ears/antlers: Land Dwellers Those of Hollow Heads do not apply to the species above, since they are "Creator Made" and blessed with different abilities. These Hollows have been shaped to fit the powers given to them, followed by how they act naturally. ---------------------------------------------------------

@thesecondlight-luna In depths they sing, a song to lure any who dare swim deep into where they dwell. A body so long that no one can view its end. How long have they hunted in such darkness, and how many are they willing to take to grow even more?

---------------------------------------------------------

@fusciaguardian Coat as hot as embers, flowing like candlelight flame. The moving mass of swirling smoke disappears into the forest like a wildfire gone rouge. Such heat catches on the grass, burning at its edges. So strange, for the dangerous beast never glows.

---------------------------------------------------------

@thechaoticsaisk

Over trees they fly, gathering at what fruits linger in the branches no other can reach. Oh, how they wander the endless seas of tall greens, always to feast on the brightest of fruits.

---------------------------------------------------------

@reptilia0freptiles In dark he stalks, for caves he dwells without worry. All hear his roar fear his wrath to follow, although they know this beast is barely their size. Size doesn't matter, only it's spirit it holds.

---------------------------------------------------------

@ignus-moth  In overgrown forests they roam, a coat stained with green. Moss had taken shelter along their strands of pink, but would it aid them both? Indeed, it would, for such a color brings a new form of hunting prey.

---------------------------------------------------------

@filiadraws

In depths I linger, I lure, I feast. Will you ever view my sight, or will you meet my jaws as so many brave preys had so mindlessly wandered into? How naive of you to think you can ever view such a sight as I.

---------------------------------------------------------

@sketchingstuff0

In shallows others wallow as all the food has been swallowed. Fat and happy lay a seal of a stick, joyful with their hunt that has left all others saddened. Suppose they should have hunted just a little faster!

---------------------------------------------------------

@multifanforever The caves creak, the sky roars, the rain pours down below and drowns the cold stone. Yet as the clouds cry, two rest alone in dens below. Warmed only by their love and calming purrs among the thunder... and along with them, rests a lesser kin. Soft breaths and shut eyes, a simple born pup among a warm, protected den.

---------------------------------------------------------

@s0lie

Shallow shores I bathe in light, but upon danger I flee as if flight. Waves they crash, yet I only crave the trees. The packs call to me, the herds swarm near my body of water. Shall I follow, or wallow away within the safety?

---------------------------------------------------------

@shoechomper

Terror of storms, nightmare in daylight. We beware the skies and fear the beast it holds, for the hunter who lingers in the blue is unlike any foretold. For at least those of fire make their presence known to all with calls of embers, unlike this silent hawk of hunger.

---------------------------------------------------------

@armiaochima

In meadows of lavender, I lurk. In day so bright, I bask. My clan they wander with, but yet we rest more then we feast. Such as life for that of careless minds. Plenty of food, surely, we can hunt later.

---------------------------------------------------------

@lunacelestite

Night falls upon the land, so too its dangers. Faced with the task of gathering once more, or see they think. Friendly faces swarm with, lesser birds who follow you close. They sing in warning and tell you of the dangers, for the crows know best to keep their protector alive. You share the spoils, the best to keep your extra eyes happy.

---------------------------------------------------------

@opearle

Blossoms fall with the season, but all they do is fall with them. Follow the petals into the valleys of colors, lingering where trees are most in bloom. Oh, the scents and creatures who flourish, a wonderous place to play.

---------------------------------------------------------

@flairya

One little step, one large leap. A trap set now sprung, how many shall meet this same faint as one who starves? Thought it snake, but it was hunter, lurking the same as other. Poor soul so hungry, now feeding another.

---------------------------------------------------------

@0gingerflake0 

Bound by grace, a stance of stone, mind to ease, eyes to guard. The protector feels no rest, sleep being nothing but myth. The herd that gathers under their wings of might shelter them from such cold predators who stalk too close for their comforts. Dangerous however is no true fear, so long as their angel sent by stars stands with them.

---------------------------------------------------------

@flowerbarrel

River o river, love me so. River o river, protect me so. River o river, give me food, for in return you get my ever-loving protection and care. The creatures take your homes rocks and tear at your soils, but I shall not allow it. My home is you, and you will provide for me as I do you.

---------------------------------------------------------

@small-sparkofhope

The one of winters coat snarled a nasty hiss, "Leave me be" they spoke. Their voice stung of annoyance, their gaze to match their anger. The smaller flowery stripped beast only laughed, "And leave you to wander alone? You think yourself strong in these parts, but this isn't no mountain!". With that, the white creature huffed. Turning their gaze away, I suppose they would have to tolerate this little thing longer then thought.

---------------------------------------------------------

@itsthedemontamer367

The dark sky rips apart into a flurry of glowing fire lights. The eyes of dark green are first seen, then a burning roar screams out. Cold brushed over the land despite the heat from such a being. The Creators had made yet another god, but to what cost but their view of the skies?

---------------------------------------------------------

@thechaoticsaisk

Where now will we wander? Now where will we run? Will the sky still shine as bright with us gone, or should we linger longer? I desire the night as you desire the light, but I wonder if we are even meant to wander so close to the sunsets? Suppose we will see...

---------------------------------------------------------

@sushiree

Desert rattles with twisting blizzards of sand and rock, tornados of wild winds that tear up the earth and rip at the brush that grows. The perfect conditions to feast on what poor souls are ripped from their dens. Only the keenest can survive in the wilds of the sands.

---------------------------------------------------------

@violetthunderstorm

Thunder roars and night turns to day. The strings of light touch the trees and set the world a'light. Fleeing below can't even escape the thunderous roars of the monster who hunts above.

---------------------------------------------------------

@leilanising Long calls echo out into the tall grasses. The herd carries on, their leader strong and carrying on. Their tail leads only prints in the clay and mud, for the strong storms shall guide them.

---------------------------------------------------------

@theofficalrocketcorp

A friend, or foe. They look as I but are far from. How strange a sight, but welcomed as so. Shall you follow me or will I follow you?

---------------------------------------------------------

@hellnahimout

A call, a wonder. A thought, a action. I see the world new in colors, but yet its not new. Why does everyone look at me so differently, is it my coat? I am not truly an eyesore, am I?

---------------------------------------------------------

@jayden-for-now

"Rude of you to fall into my swarm of fish. I was hunting." The fish spoke to the bird. The bird only blew out bubbles in confusion. Sighing, the fish scooped up the bird back to the water's surface. Perhaps this one is a baby fallen from clouds? Who knows, only that it sucks at swimming.

--------------------------------------------------------- I'd like to again thank you all for the requests. The next one will be up in the future. Keep those sticks ready to be thrown my way! <3

[chucapybara]

thinking vv loudly about arlecchino as always—particularly her vision story entry

fire is still able to harm teyvat dwellers, even those with pyro visions. arlecchino's curse, among her two other sources of power, are no different.

perhaps arlecchino burned herself a few times, learning the ways of these strengths bestowed upon her for being of a lineage forgotten, eclipsed, the shade of a hollow, abyssal moon. and of the ink she bears, striking lines and markings along her arms, her hands, the charcoal hue at the tips of them; it's all a part of who she's come to be, making something of the ashes.

at times, in the grace of moonlight, you catch her by the windowsill. she does not take much to sunlight, preferring to stalk in the shadows, but the night was a different story; she allows the glow of it to illuminate her skin, the blackened arms. a reminder of what she has had to sacrifice to be here, to escape her fate, only to be thrust into another one.

her coat lays neatly folded over the back of a chair, and you brush your fingertips along the fabric—the feathered motifs, the sharp silver layers—as you pass. she knows you're here, of course; she senses you always when you've joined her in orbit, two inseparable celestials, sun and moon.

you embrace her from behind, and she does not protest, not so much as a breath of complaint. yours is the only touch she will allow, even when she would never even dream of allowing you an ounce of her burden.

(you hold her tighter, your cheek pressed to her bare shoulder. your lips paint 'ffections over a scar there, a line from a sword cut. her breath stutters. you take some of the weight with you when you withdraw.)

in the glimpse of the moonlight you catch the solemnity of her gaze, sharp, but never at you. in searching do your fingers thread between hers, clasping, thumb brushing the rings she has. her own, and those of the union that bound you together, in cursed sickness and in health, 'til death do you so part.

arlecchino's curse does not recede—it is far too late for that—but it has not grown in the length of time you have loved her, as she has loved you, and you are grateful for it. you bring her hand up to your lips, draping kisses along her knuckles.

she turns her head more, takes in the sight of you, and some of the edge falters from her gaze. arlecchino draws closer, her own lips pressing sweetly against your temple.

"you worry."

"it's my job, isn't it?" you whisper, as your kisses trace down the mark of her arm, to another healed sword cut, to a burn on her forearm. you inch down, almost kneeling, when she beckons you higher and embraces you tight.

"no," she breathes; a refusal, albeit a futile one. she knows you'll worry for her anyway.

it almost surprises you, the way she melts into your form—but you know it is a quiet moment for her, a silent request for your presence. for you to stay, for time to stop, to just give her this. to give her this.

she would never have you kneel for her. teyvat would sooner fall to barren ruins than ever see you on your knees for your husband.

arlecchino burrows into the crook of your neck, breathing you in. it tickles, some. your hands settle by her shoulderblades, by her spine. a warm pulse beats strong by her breast, and you know with due certainty it is the gemstone proof of her defiance against the heavens—her defiance for more days in the shade, more hours with you.

(once, she may have found the feeling of you creeping under her ribcage as intrusive, even abhorrent, but your place in the flesh of her heart sets her free, now.)

she keeps her vision close to her heart, but you will always nestle closer, and such is where you know you'll stay, once the skies begin to fall. cursed or not, she would face the dreadful dawn—to endure it all, the burning flame in her blood, the heavens shattering. to live, in spite of everything.

and you'll witness all of it, right there by her side.

[emmcarstairs]

15) "Talk to me."

obviously Cooper n Lucy please :3

15. "Talk to me."

The Ghoul had to give it to her. The Vaultie was one tough cookie. 

He had seen her hollow eyes in the observatory. The light in them was gone. Her expression back there was all too familiar to what he'd been seeing for all these years. Well, back where he still dared to look at himself in a mirror. 

He had an idea who had snuffed that light out. That's what they did. They took and broke everything about your world until you had nothing to depend on but them. It made the irradiated blood in his veins boil. 

Lucy was moving across the Mojave like a ghost. He led the way, she solemnly followed. Dogmeat was darting between them, a thread connecting them both. The stitches around her finger itched on his hand. 

The silence didn't bother him. Hell, he was used to it. It was his companion for so long. 

What bothered him was that he'd heard her talk. He'd had her listen. The promise of holding an actual conversation with someone who wouldn't necessarily end up a bloody mess by his own hand was, he could admit, a little tempting. 

So one evening he decided to lead by example. As they sat around the fire he had begrudgingly lit, he gave her a brief outline about their little journey, the desert, its dangers and whatnot. He might even have mentioned an article or two. 

He couldn't tell if she cared, really. She had her head put on her knees, her arms wrapped around them. The only light in her empty eyes was the one reflected by the fire. That simply wouldn't do. 

You couldn't survive the Wasteland without an inner flame. He'd witnessed too many people in his time crushed under the weight of desperation or indifference. You had to be a stubborn son of a bitch, fuelled by some emotion or a goal, or pure spite. He himself was a roaring blaze. 

So he had to set her on fire. 

“Goddammit, Lucy, talk to me,” he swore and waited for some response. He hoped her name could reach her, the way it would bring a turning Ghoul back to the light. 

His gaze dropped to her hands. Dirt and blood covered her fingers and for a second in the dark he couldn't distinguish the grayish finger he knew she had. 

She must have noticed his stare because after a beat, she turned the back of her hand and put her grimy new index finger up in a gesture that could only be read as… rude. 

The Ghoul guffawed. He hadn't seen that in a long while. He wondered where she had read about it, too. Her fellow Vault dwellers couldn't have possibly taught her that. His mind went to what other things she had learned on her own. 

“Oh, you're really full of surprises, aren't ya, sweetheart?” 

If he was the fuel to her fire, then that's what he'd be.