#it's been a while since i drew this one so out into the vault it goes!

[u3pxx]

i just like drawing them standing there sometimes, for my mental health

#it's been a while since i drew this one so out into the vault it goes! #i actually intended this to be like body practice ig and also like a base for diff outfits + #but i ended up using the liquify tool sm bc it looked jank to me while i was drawing it + #so unfortunately i cant extract the lineart for this one bc these drawings are mergeddd pfttt #i wish csp let u used the liquify tool on multiple layers sighs 😔 #maybe i'll just draw over these so i can get the lineart and proportions right lol #disco elysium #disco femlysium #harriet du bois #fem kim kitsuragi #sunnysidedisco #genderbend #sunnysidedraws #described #id in alt text

[anarchy-n-glitter]

The Good, The Bad, and...

Summary: Lucy and The Ghoul encounter a shadowy figure from his past while on their way to New Vegas. This stranger, nicknamed Red Eyes, is intent on collecting a bounty on The Ghoul as a means to settle a feud between the two after they were betrayed by him. Will Red Eyes succeed, or will they have a change of heart based on their complicated feelings toward the man? (Cooper Howard x OC/reader) Words: 2,941

A/N: I forgot to post chapter 1 of this on here sorry guys. Anyway this is low key a Star Wars AU because as a Cad Bane fan I simply could not help myself so this is technically kind of a follow up to this fic. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

From the Desert Comes a Stranger

“I’ve taken down so many of dese clones over da years…” Her father began in his heavily accented manner, sighing, and pushing his hat back with his pointer finger as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. The red of his irises were somehow muted by the red lenses of the goggles he wore, which made it hard to see the look in his eyes as it was. He quickly dropped to his knees and with a single swipe of his knife he removed something from the clone’s body. She couldn’t quite make out what it was before he pocketed it.

He turned around quickly, pointing his gloved finger up at her. She straightened up.

“Now, Ciella, what ya need to know is…” He handed her the bloodied knife, closing her fingers around the hilt and holding her smaller hand in his. It was one of the only times he made a tender gesture towards her other than the odd hug here and there. 

“Once you figure out one da rest are easy.” She had to wonder what the point of all this was. 

When they arrived on the site - an old, decrepit warehouse with a caved-in roof - her father was quick to corner the clone that now lay dying before them. He tried his best to grab the gun that was strapped to his leg, fumbling with it and managing to point it in her father’s general direction before he was gunned down. Two shots in the chest from the looks of it, shots that left the man (clone) heaving and wheezing on the floor with blank eyes, and she knew that’s what he wanted to happen. If he wanted to shoot the man in the head he would have. He was the fastest shot in the Wasteland, and it would stay that way for many years. 

“Now, I want ya to take dat knife dere and,” He finally stood and moved her closer to the dying man. “Yer gonna have to cut his throat, unless ya want to hear him scream. I’m not against it but it’s best dat we keep him quiet. Don’t want any stragglers comin’ in and takin’ us by surprise.”

Ciella drew in a deep breath as she knelt down beside the man. His blank eyes suddenly held so much emotion, it was a look she’d seen in her own eyes a few times before. Mostly on dark nights in the Jewel as she listened to the way men spoke to her mother… and the way her father spoke to her at times. It was the look she saw in the mirror after she saw how her mama took care of those men - their purple, mangled faces contorted in pain and their eyes bloodshot staring up at her, and their hands clutched around their throats. 

This man was in pain, and he was afraid of dying. 

There was a large tattoo on the side of his face, around his eye. It was a symbol, most likely belonging to whatever faction he belonged to since escaping his vault. From what she overheard her dad discussing, Vault 66 seemed to be defunct, with the clones created within revolting and escaping into the Wasteland. He had been hunting down the clones for the last five years, among other things. She never quite understood why anyone would flee a vault to live on the surface. 

Her father took the respirator off of his face, letting it hang below his chin. She felt more at ease at this, happy to hear his own, unmodified voice walking her through what she was about to do. Her heart was beating fast and felt like it had leapt into her throat. She glanced at the open ceiling and focused on the large, white moon that hung in the deep blue sky. 

Perhaps the sky full of swirling stars would be enough to comfort her.

“When he’s dead, cut off da part of his face with da tattoo and hand it to da Tin-Man. Den we can go home.” He instructed. Ciella hesitated. 

The clone looked at her, stared her down, silently begging her for mercy. He was just a clone, and he was wanted so he must have done something bad, right? She looked back at her dad, who had pushed his goggles up onto his forehead, revealing his bright red eyes staring back at her expectedly. Tufts of navy blue hair peeked out from under his hat and over his goggles and his lips were curved into a small smile. 

He actually looked like a supportive father for the first time in his life.

Ciella made her decision at that moment, and the girl at only eight years old turned around and drove the knife into the clone’s throat. His eyes widened and met her gaze for a moment and she felt her heart drop. He groaned and wheezed, the blood gurgling in his throat as the crimson substance dribbled from the corners of his mouth. A sputtering cough had his blood spraying across her face and she wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. She tried not to heave at the disgusting feeling. 

On instinct, she pulled the knife from his throat and drove it back into his flesh. Over and over. A larger, warmer hand wrapped around her wrist and stopped her mid motion. 

“Dere ya go.” Her father smiled wider as pride swelled in his chest. His baby would be a killer, just like he was. “After dis I’ll teach ya everyding I know.” 

☠☠☠☠☠☠☠

The sun bore down unbearably upon the duo traveling along the Mojave Desert. It had been miles and miles of desert between the Griffith Observatory and the place the Ghoul was certain Lucy’s father was heading. The vaultie was starting to fall behind, clearly tired from the constant moving. It was hard to find shelter all the way out here, and unfortunately for her the Ghoul didn’t feel comfortable stopping out in the open. 

They had traveled through a few settlements at that point, each one growing more and more decrepit and sparse. The people were quieter and hid away in their own corners of the small towns, eyeing the Ghoul and his traveling companion wearily. The whispers and glares of the different townsfolk hardly made for good hospitality, if anything it was that fact that drove him away from each place. Something was happening, someone said something, and he felt it was too risky to stop for a few nights in any of the settlements.

The last place they’d been to was a day’s walk away at this point, and the talk amongst the people in that saloon made him deeply uncomfortable. Then there was the body. 

In the sandy dunes of the last settlement they had been to laid a man with sun kissed skin and snow white hair stained at the temples with red. The poor man had his brains blown out, by who…  well, let’s just say he had a good idea of who it was. It was clear the job was done quickly, the man clearly didn’t see them coming, and the fact the man’s armor and other supplies went untouched raised even more alarm bells. He got them out of there quickly and quietly.

Unfortunately for Lucy, the Ghoul was one-track minded at the moment. His family was out there, he could feel it. There was a reason he kept going for over two hundred years, and he would not let those years of anguish be in vain. 

He would kill anyone who tried to get between them. 

“There’s gotta be somewhere we can stop, right?” Lucy sounded hoarse, tired. He wished he could answer her truthfully. He hadn’t traveled this far into the desert before, and the way the sun seemed to hang so high in the sky for so long made him question whether anyone ventured that far, let alone set up shop. He shrugged.

The dunes seemed to stretch on for miles and miles, with only a few rocky formations on the horizon. A few dried plants littered the ground here and there, somehow finding the strength to grow in such a harsh climate. It was a wonder anything was able to grow and flourish after the bombs. Maybe he should have sent the vaultie to ask for some sort of transport back at the saloon instead of being stubborn like he usually was. 

“Maybe that person’s coming from a settlement down that way?” The Ghoul froze, feeling himself go numb. 

Among the dancing heatwaves stood a dark-clad figure on the horizon. 

They stood still, any discernible features hidden by a wide-brimmed hat and respirator over the figure’s mouth. The wind blew and kicked up dust and whipped the figure’s coat to the side, revealing the large holster against their hip. Their dark attire starkly contrasted with the bright blue sky and pale sand. 

The words of the men in the saloon ran through his mind. 

Someone’s lookin’ for a ghoul just like ya! There was a bounty put out not too long ago, I think it’s been taken offa the board. A lotta caps goin’ for that guy. He considered that a warning at the time. 

Anyway, it looked like the guy who took the bounty was Red Eyes. He had the goggles an’ everything, but we all thought he was dead. 

And Red Eyes was supposed to be dead. He died around five or six years ago. 

The figure in front of him was a ghost. 

Red Eyes stopped a good twenty feet in front of them, standing perfectly still. The wind shifted again and from beneath the wide-brimmed hat came a tuft of navy blue hair that blew in the breeze. The desert was all too quiet now, and it felt like something from one of his old movies. Red Eyes felt like an old western villain, dark and ominous, seemingly a force of nature. He worried the figure wasn’t only after him. 

“Lucy, you should head back.” The Ghoul muttered, putting a hand out to stop her from moving any further. She stared at the figure for a moment, suddenly afraid because of the Ghoul’s reaction. 

“It’s only one person.” She muttered. “Maybe they’re lost?” The Ghoul stayed silent. He would not repeat himself.

Her doe-like eyes flickered to him and she noticed the way his mouth was set in a seemingly permanent frown. His whole body looked stiff, like a cornered animal. She nodded, understanding finally, before turning on her heel to make a run for it. 

The Ghoul watched as the stranger glanced in Lucy’s direction. Red Eyes observed her, seemingly studying her like an unbothered predator eyeing a nearby animal knowing it couldn’t do anything to stop it. He grit his teeth and took a few steps forward, spurs jangling with each stride. 

This was not good. 

“Now I know that fancy getup you got on is not yours.” He began through a false bravado, flashing teeth that used to be a pearly white. It was so easy for him to slip back into a role, something he had been doing this entire time. Yet, this time, he was given the chance to play the good guy. It felt unfamiliar somehow, after all, it had been several years since he’d done such a thing. He was almost grateful for this stranger’s theatrics. “Who might you be? Cause you sure as hell ain’t Red Eyes… he’s dead.” 

He knew all too well who this was. 

Red Eyes looked up, the red goggles reflecting the bright sun and making it impossible to see past their lenses. More of the stranger’s hair seemed to flow from behind them, long strands of navy waving in the wind like a flag. Their stance shifted from one of leisure to subtly looking like they would pounce. The stranger moved their coat away from their hip, revealing the large gun strapped to their form. 

“I’d be careful where I was sticking my nose if I were you.” The heavily modulated voice called out. “Or lack thereof.” 

The Ghoul bit his tongue. “I’m assuming that corpse we found back there was you, then? Certainly wasn’t the handiwork of any ol’ fiend.” 

“Wasn’t much work.” Red Eyes spat quickly. “Was a clone. They're easy. Woulda gotten in my way.” Their accent, even through the voice changer, was thick. Louisiana, most likely from the New Orleans area. 

“You’re here for me.” He didn’t feel the need to ask. He threaded his thumbs through the belt loops on his trousers, opting to seem more relaxed than he was. He knew Red Eyes would see right through his guise.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Their hand twitched beside their gun. He eyed them wearily.

“Well, I’m not goin’ willingly.” A low, rumbling chuckle sounded from the stranger. 

“I never said I was gonna take ya in alive.” They answered, voice cold with an edge to it. He fought the urge to argue, to call their bluff, for doing so would be too risky.

Truthfully, Red Eyes had every reason to want him dead. It had been a few years, five to be exact, since they last saw each other. Five long years since he turned the fellow bounty hunter in for killing a crime lord. Five years since he left them for dead. This would be a fitting end for their little rivalry, even if it wasn’t always that way. 

But he wouldn’t go down just yet. Not without a fight. 

He had to find another way to fight them. A quick draw duel would mean a death sentence for him, unfortunately. Red Eyes was and still is the quickest draw in the Wasteland. He would have to throw them off somehow, say something to really disarm them. 

He did the only thing he could think of, and instead of indulging in the stranger - instead of going for his gun - words that he never thought he would say slipped from his dry, cracked lips.

“Ciella, I’m sorry.” 

Red Eyes froze. Their hand was still dangerously close to their gun’s grip. Over the wind, he vaguely heard the sharp, uneven intake of air from the figure. The breeze picked up again, blowing open the stranger’s coat to reveal the figure of a woman. 

“It’s a bit late fer that, isn’t it, cher?” It most definitely was her. “I came ta finish the job. I shoulda known a coffin wouldn’t hold yer ass.” 

Cooper held back a laugh. Ciella Bane was an ally at one point, and maybe even a friend, but the moment her picture was up on one of those boards he knew their partnership was over. Someone was offering a hefty reward for whoever could bring the bounty brat in, preferably alive. 

That was his mistake. He knew he probably should have killed her while she was sleeping and taken the smaller reward for her corpse. Killing her like this would be a pain in the ass. 

“You wanna take off that ridiculous getup and let me see you?” He taunted, much to Ciella’s dismay. He just had to hit her where it hurt, get her emotional and in her head so she missed when she inevitably shot at him. However, it had been a few years, he couldn’t be sure that trick would still work.

Though with dear ol’ daddy not around to give her more of his tips and tricks he doubted she would have improved much more than the last time they brawled. 

Ciella scoffed. “The last thing you’ll see are these goggles. Everyone’s gotta know it was Red Eyes who took ya out, ghoul.” She spat, though there was a sadistic playfulness in her voice. Cooper rolled his eyes. 

“I got places to be, girl.” Cooper countered with equal venom. He was getting antsy, and he felt she was wasting his time. “Let us through and…” He stopped.

What would he do? What could he do? What could he possibly offer her where she wouldn’t be on his trail while he and Lucy trekked the Wasteland on a wild goose chase? Ciella coming back from whatever corner of the world she ran off to after burying him alive was the last thing he wanted. 

“Let us through and we can finish this some other time. I’ll tell you where I’ll be and you come find me.” He offered finally, feeling the weight of his words in his chest. He wouldn’t give up finding his family so she could have her petty revenge, but maybe one day, when everyone around him was gone and he knew his daughter was safe and could live a happy life, he would go to Ciella and let her put him out of his misery. 

“We do this here and now.” The bounty hunter replied. “That head o’ yers is fetchin’ a pretty penny. Figured it was better I did it than some chem addicted fiend on the street.” Her words were purposefully inflammatory. She was doing the same thing he was. 

She straightened up again, mimicking the stance of a cowboy in a western getting ready to draw, and Cooper knew what it meant. She wasn’t giving him a choice. They’d done this dance once before, and unfortunately for him it didn’t end well. 

The Ghoul sighed and moved his coat from his holster, and he mirrored her stance. “This ain’t gonna go the way ya think it will, sweetheart.”

“I doubt that.” That same, robotic voice answered, yet he knew she was still all too human underneath. 

#cooper howard x oc #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #star wars au #fallout fanfic #cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x oc #fallout #cad bane mention!!! #so #cad bane #fallout tv series

[dduane]

...So I was noodling around with the above image as preliminary work for a piece of Middle Kingdoms concept art that's going to illustrate a chapter-heading rubric from The Door Into Sunset. And while working on it, I belatedly realized that to correctly set up that scene, I was first going to have to tear up the entire left-hand side of the image (and the space beyond it), because the new covered fish market I had in mind wasn't going to fit in the space.

So I rolled my eyes at myself (I should have seen this coming...), got busy tearing it up, and then built the fish market. It's very loosely based, as I think I mentioned somewhere here earlier, on the famous Vismarkt, the covered fishmarket in the center of Brugge in Belgium (a.k.a. Bruges). (Image via Carto.net.)

Back in medieval times, right through to the Renaissance and beyond, fish was originally sold in Bruges in the open, from wooden pallets. But other stallholders in the main market complained about the smell, and the fish-sellers themselves weren't happy with the venue: selling such perishable goods out in the broad (and often hot) daylight was suboptimal. A permanent, covered place for the fishmongers' stalls makes more sense. Yet at the same time, you want decent light on what you're selling or buying... just not direct sun.

Choosing the architecture for a market like this in Darthis city was also going to be an issue. The Vismarkt was installed in a new dedicated market square in 1821, with the architect opting for a Victorian-cum-Classical look: not something that would make sense in this alternate Earth—if I was seriously considering a straightforward copy, which I wasn't. However, the Darthene architectural aesthetic does contain both building styles very like our Romanesque style, and elements similarly reminiscent of Gothic. (Though in the Middle Kingdoms the AU-Romanesque wasn't abandoned when the kinda-Gothic came in, but coexists with it).

After I'd given the situation some thought, I found myself wanting something that drew on those two traditions... or would maybe kind of split the difference between them: a building open on all sides that would be relatively light and airy, recalling a tent or canopy. This kind of design's unquestionably made a lot easier in that universe by the availability of magic-workers able to pull stone out of the ground without excavation, and also able to fashion it into the desired shapes without the use of physical tools. So finally I settled on a broad, vaguely Gothic-styled cross or groined vault as the preferred shape for the roofs: then rummaged around to see what I could find in the local toolkit that would enable me to build it.

Semi-plan view:

Diagonal side view:

(Please note that all of these images are the result of the digital version of kitbashing, as I don’t currently have anything like the skills to create shapes like these in Blender.)

Better lighting in this case is fortunately a materials-technology issue, long since solved on our own Earth. The stone of the roof segments is what architects now would refer to as an "alabastrite marble", about an inch thick—light enough to need relatively little in the way of external supports, and thin enough to transmit light readily. This marble's name comes (probably obviously enough) from alabaster, which has been used on and off in European church windows since medieval times as an affordable alternative to glass, in times and places where that’s been expensive.

This approach has had occasional revivals in modern our-Earth architecture. However, since alabaster is only useful in relatively small pieces, and is vulnerable to heat and moisture, it's often replaced by thin-cut marble set in metal frameworks. One good example of this would be the Beinecke Rare Book and Manuscript Library at Yale. (image via Amusing Planet)

The thin-cut Vermont marble transmits light safely without endangering the documents. But sometimes genuine alabaster has been used, too: the Cathedral of Our Lady of the Angels in Los Angeles features tens of thousands of panes of it. (image via Expedia)

The equivalent use of marble in the royal Arlene library rr'Virendir, in Prydon city—replacing much ancient glass destroyed during the earthquakes accompanying the last battle of the Great War—is probably where the Darthene authorities got the idea for this implementation. And since the marble used in this construction would almost certainly have come from Arlen, light-colored marble being the country’s “vernacular" stone due to it being quarried all over the place there, it makes perfect sense for this marble to have been a gift of the Arlene Throne to the city of Darthis. And would also account for the presence of his grace the King over there by the market stall up against the wall, pretending to check out the produce while he also checks out the nearly-finished construction (and, idly, two of his spouses).

The Queen is after all very picky about making sure her contractors are getting things right. Yes, she jokes a lot about having lots of room in the dungeons if things go wrong... but sometimes, if you don't know her, it's hard to be sure she's joking.

Meanwhile, so far, it doesn't look too bad.

Things learned over the past couple of weeks, in between also doing other work:

Translucence is a bitch to master in Daz Studio

Certain aspects of Blender are conspiring with one another to make me scream

My rendering computer is displaying a tendency toward quirkiness in the memory department that would register as nearly endearing if I could figure out what was causing it

...But at least now that the set I need is pretty much done (except for some minor tightening, straightening, and tweaking of materials and color temperatures), I can turn my attention to the question of how to produce the rather specialized VFX required for the two shot I'm setting up. ...Yeah, all this work has been for a two shot. But that shot needs people in the background, and the right street furniture. And nature abhors an undressed set. ...See also: "the backs of the melons."

Next challenge: track down a source for heaps of digitized prawns. :)

#Middle Kingdoms #Darthis #fishmarket #Middle Kingdoms meta #Freelorn #Herewiss #Eftgan #and a cast of tens #also #Blender #argh

[elmhat]

// dsmp rp

"sunset" — a drabble based on @hiding-in-the-vault's power trio au

~

“Hey, can we stop for a second?”

Sapnap and George turned back to Dream. As tired as he might be, as tired they all were, Sapnap still had the wherewithal to be suspicious. “Why would we stop?”

“Well, I mean, just— I think it'd be good.” Dream looked out over the vast fields they had just traveled through, to the dense patch of forest they were about to enter. It would be dark soon.

Sapnap looked at Dream like he had murdered his family. “This was your idea to find Punz, bro, you’ve gotta have a better reason than that.”

“Look, I— Fine, it doesn't matter!”

“No, it fucking matters now! What is it, what's up?”

“Sapnap,” George interjected. From behind Sapnap, he yawned theatrically, as he had been doing for the past several hours.

“What's in the forest, Dream?” said Sapnap, eyes narrowing. “Do you know something?”

“No!” Dream insisted. “You’re— ugh, I was just thinking that, like, maybe it would be nice if we, like… saw the sunset.”

Dream actually, physically recoiled at his own words. Fuck, did that sound dumb. He was tired, he was aching, he wasn't thinking straight. Sapnap was just frowning back at him with that specific brand of confused anger. Like a big, stupid ravager.

“The sunset?”

“It was dumb! Okay? I get it!” Dream shook his head. “Forget it.”

Sapnap didn't look any less confused. For far too long, he studied Dream’s face so intently that it felt like he could see through the mask, searching for the lie that wasn't there. Dream wished there was one.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” said George. “I'm not walking anymore.” Without any further conversation, he went and sprawled out on the grass, gazing up at an orange sky. Not the muddy orange of Dream’s hidden prison jumpsuit, but a vibrant, pretty orange. The color of life, not death.

With a shrug at Sapnap, Dream made his way to George’s side, half suppressing the wince as he sat down. He drew his knees up to his chest.

“No way you're serious,” said Sapnap, but Dream didn't respond. He was too tired for this argument; hopefully, Sapnap was too. But Dream still kept his hands free, hovering near his axe, just in case. Nothing was worse than getting complacent.

It felt so good to finally be sitting down. They had been walking all day, dragging themselves from one side of the server to the other, and while that wouldn't have bothered the Dream of the past, it was undeniable that he couldn't go half as long as he used to without several breaks. Which was fine, he could manage, he had come this far. It was just frustrating.

The sky really did look amazing right now. Between fleeing bases and collecting scraps of his old resources, Dream hadn’t thought about sunsets once since his escape, but something about being around George and Sapnap brought back the urge. It was more nostalgia than anything; the hours and hours they had spent outside as kids, camping out after dark when they knew they shouldn't. It would sound stupid to say that the color reminded Dream of Sapnap’s eyes, but here he was.

Eventually, Sapnap relented. Dream heard the clank of armor as he thumped down beside him, jostling around a bit before exhaling deeply through his nose. After that, the whole world went quiet. It wasn't as awkward as it should be.

“What are you really doing with Punz?” Sapnap finally asked him, tone hushed and weirdly soft.

Dream didn't look at him; he couldn't take his eyes off the sky. “I can't tell you that,” he whispered back.

“He revived you.”

It should have been an accusation, but there was no heat to it. “Yeah.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Dream saw Sapnap nod. “Dream, listen.” A gentle hand on his arm made him look up at Sapnap’s face. “If this is gonna work, if we’re gonna actually work together, you need to tell me what's happening. Punz is whatever, you have your old secret shit, but from now on? You’ve gotta share, dude.”

“Yeah, I know,” said Dream.

“No. Clearly, you don’t. I’ve gotta look after myself here, and George too. You’re not gonna lead us into some bullshit that’ll get us killed.”

Sapnap was looking at him like he was in pain. Dream broke eye contact; something twinged inside of him. “I'm sorry. About— that.” It was obvious what he meant. “For not telling you.”

Staging the betrayal with Punz, orchestrating Sapnap’s grand hero moment behind his back—that had been rough. As necessary as it was, just as much now as at the time, it didn't fully take out the sting, not even for Dream. Sapnap certainly wasn't taking it well. One day, maybe, he might understand the importance of it all. After all, it wasn't like Dream was the first of their little group to betray the others.

Dream couldn't tell Sapnap everything, but he could tell him some things. He could tell him about threats and traps and elements of plans that didn’t require too much prying to understand. That was more than before. As hard a pill as it was to swallow, there just wasn't the same trust that there used to be. Not after Sapnap killed him.

“That works both ways, though,” Dream told him. “You have to tell me stuff too.”

Hesitantly, Sapnap nodded. “Of course.”

They left it at that.

It was nice being able to talk to Sapnap like they were friends again, even if it was only a mirage. Dream couldn't let himself get used to it. They would both be fighting again tomorrow, and eventually, it would end up being more than just words. But the past year had taught him a lesson, and he had learned it well: the cruelest thing to endure was false hope.

#c!dream #c!sapnap #c!george #dreblr #power trio #drabbles #my writing #elm fics

[shepscapades]

I have two minds to answer this, because part of me is going 'WE GOT EM!!! WE GOT EM!!' While the other part of me is like 'oh god how do I tell them. Who’s going to tell them.' The easiest way I can explain: Tom, Ben, and Harry are not in a minecraft series together, and the lore that I have for them is not based in any actual series. HOWEVER. DON’T LET THE TRAGIC TRUTH MAKE YOU CLICK AWAY /silly so I can explain properly LMAO

Here’s a TLDR for anyone who likes these guys and is a lil interested in them!!

Most of the lore for these three is based on an amalgamation of inside jokes, non-minecraft character trends, and general yogs minecraft world lore!

Tom was an editor (now has a YouTube channel, AngoryTom) and did behind-the-scenes minecraft prep for the Yogscast for so long that he was never really interested in any actual "main channel" series besides [Dig Site - 10 episodes] with Simon, Lewis, and Ben, and [Skyblock - 2 episodes] with Ben! Although he’s also played several npcs throughout various main channel series since he was helping run the show lol. My take on his character is that he’s a former yoglabs employee due to [YOGLABS CLASSIFIED INFORMATION] and now lives his laziest life ever in an undisclosed remote location. He’s also the demigod of death but he’ll never tell

Ben started doing main series mc content a few years ago, but hasn’t done anything mc with Tom and Harry until recently (see below)! His character is a Shark Hybrid due to [YOGLABS CLASSIFIED INFORMATION] who now lives with Tom at the same undisclosed remote location.

Harry has been an insane speedrunning minecraft legend for ages, but was never in any main series content bc he’s actually a graphic designer for the yogs. But he was part of Iskall’s twitch vault hunter event back in November, and he’s now in the [Vault Hunter Series - Ongoing] with Ben and Duncan on YouTube! <3 so there’s plenty of mc content of Harry and Ben, but not so much Tom. c!Harry has lived remote for as long as he can remember, locked in Hardcore, until…?

But again, I base their backstories on a bunch of kinda loosely connected lore dots that are half based on jokes <3

Below the read more includes: links to clips, compilations, and very brief lore explanations (though you can check my other lore drawings in Tom’s tag (#Angory Tom), Ben’s tag (#bedgar), Harry’s tag (#brryhrry) or posts that have any of them, which should be under the (#the outcast trio) tag)!

BEN AND TOM

I’ve been in love with Ben and Tom as a duo forever, since the TTT (modded Trouble in Terrorist Town) days, where Ben’s player model was Left Shark, and Tom’s model was Emperor Palpatine (yes from Star Wars. I can’t stand them). But Ben and Tom have been yogs editors and Behind The Scenes guys forever, so it wasn’t until more recently that they became known personalities in the main yogscast circle (4-5 years is pretty recent in the 10+ years of yogs content timeline LMAO).

Through Warhammer streams and behind the scenes stuff, I kinda fell in love with their chemistry and idiocy, and they worked so well with the “main cast” that I just had to put them in the yogs minecraft universe, somewhere. Turns out, Tom had actually done a majority of the "behind the scenes" work for the Yoglabs series (he built a majority of the main building, did mod research and testing, was present during recordings to make sure things went well, stuff like that) so it only made sense to have his character be the Right Hand Man/ Behind The Scenes Assistant to Xephos (Lewis), the Morally Questionable Head of Yoglabs.

For anyone who’s unfamiliar with Yoglabs, it’s one of the yogs’ more famous series featuring Simon (Honeydew) and Lewis (Xephos) where they tested mods! more info can be found here!

c!Tom also ended up as a Lumian (the fanon alien space species for the yogs fandom, vaguely inspired by Star Trek Vulcans) because of a one-off joke where one of the Yogs artists drew him as a star trek commander, and I really didn’t need any further reason to make him a weird little guy LDKFJG

As far as the “demigod of death” thing goes, it felt right to give him a lore thing that vaguely coordinated with the whole “Emporer Palpatine” vibe, since that’s kinda the mc skin he’s used most recently. There’s another reason there that I don’t think I’ve properly explained, so I’ll leave the rest of that be for now ;]

Ben, on the other hand, plays a shark character in pretty much every video game he ever participates in, so shark hybrid was a pretty obvious way to go. And of course, since the duo had to be in the same place… involving Ben’s shark Hybrid-ness with yoglabs experimentation made good sense and good angst. What can I say :]

Here are the bigger lore posts I’ve made so far (in the order i posted them i believe!), explaining in a little more detail plus art to go with! :] [x] [x] [x]

HARRY

Harry is kinda known as the yogscast’s token memelord? But in the ironic way. He somehow makes it genuinely hilarious idk man. His humor is very dry, witty, and sarcastic, but he’s a sweetheart and kind of a god at minecraft. I’ve been arguing since day one that this man should be in mcc but we won’t go there

There aren't many solo harry compilations, so here's a link to a Harry and Ben compilation hehe

Regarding his minecraft lore, pretty much all of it is based around the idea that he’s a god at speedrunning and hardcore Minecraft. A common consensus in yogscast minecraft lore is that respawning is actually a Yoglabs-based mechanic tied to clones and clone making. I thought it would be interesting if Harry could be tied to a hardcore element in the yogs lore purely by having Somehow slid under yoglabs’ radar. And since he was never in any main channel (aka modded) series, i usually associate him with Vanilla mechanics, and since i also view mods as a Yoglabs-related lore element, it made sense! So basically— no clones, no respawns, no mods!

except that he’s in a main channel series now. So I’ll need to find a new lore reason around that DTBJDFGHK

And his design, well… this man’s skin is straight up Mr Mime, and there’s only so much I can do with that /silly But he’s a HUGE Pokémon fan! He’s played a couple of Disaster Nuzlockes with Lydia from the yogs a year or so ago, if that’s something you’re interested in! Was a huge comfort series for me for the longest time and rly good background noise, theyre soooo good at Pokémon I promise <3

Harry does more twitch stuff (hrry on twitch) than youtube stuff, so twitch is the best place to check him out if you're interested in his solo content!

Last thing I'll say about him is that he designed and ran an original minecraft minigame called "Capture the Wool" and he and Martyn are the hosts for a few episodes i think! i dont think there's any way to explain how entertaining it is to listen to him announce the chaos of yogs members trying to play competitive minecraft LOL

Um, so. TLDR…2, These guys are basically my ocs and now I get Actual minecraft content from them which is crazy. I love them as content creators and cool guys so so much though, so! Definitely recommend listening to these idiots (affectionate) babble and ramble to each other, mc or not <3

#yogscast #bedgar #angory tom #BrryHrry #hrry #ben #tom #the outcast trio #art escapades #sorry that's so long but my love for them is showing hehe #i haven't completed decided if i want the “the outcast trio” tag to be for posts with ANY of them or just ALL of them so -- #if you have a preference feel free to lmk <3 #also feel free to lmk if you check them out :3 they are everything to the me!

[nerdraging4point0]

Since we're all wrapping ourselves up in the cozy coat of Chris Cerulli, and we've all seen those hot Cherry Bomb dancers on stage with him, what would Chris do to reassure you that he only has eyes for you - because if my man was up on stage with those girls in those outfits, I would be incredibly proud but also a teeny bit insecure.

Is this a "head cannon"? 🤣

Cozy Coat of Chris Cerulli-Nice tongue twister there lol Chris is a flirt. It’s part of his charm. We air signs are notorious for being flirty, witty, and charming. It’s part of the subscription-those that can’t handle that have a problem handling us.

However, Chris knows where his loyalties lie. The first time the dancers were introduced to him he put on the charm making them feel more at ease and comfortable with the costume choices he has picked out for this tour. The first time you saw the dancers in their costumes your heart sank to the pit of your stomach.

While you knew they were just dancers it still set you on edge-but you did your best to hide it. Sitting through the performance you watched as they took their place on stage. The song started and they began to move, it was all fine until at one point during the song Chris bent on one knee looking right at a dancer who playfully touched his face-careful not to smear his makeup. Another dancer at his back playfully walking her fingers up his back.

Your mouth went dry, the feeling that an invisible hole had just been made in your abdomen causing a slight breeze to run through you made your skin go clammy and your hair stand on edge. Those thoughts you always kept in the back of your head locked away in a vault about how Chris was attractive and famous, he could have any girl he wanted, so why of all that would he have chosen you? Began to surface again. You drew deeper into your hoodie that you’d gotten at the merch table as if you could hide all the insecurities in the soft cotton fabric. It’s late when the show ends and the band and crew are still riding the high of their first sold out show, in their hometown no less. Tomorrow they would play in Pittsburgh loading on the bus in just a few short hours-he’d begin a long string of months on tour. A long string of months with those dancers performing at every show. Chris can tell when something is up. Especially now. The high that everyone was on they were loud and excited while you were withdrawn and quiet. When he pulled you into his side you only half heartedly returned the affection, still keeping your arms crossed over your chest.

“You know seeing you in my merch always makes me happy.” Chris mused, trying to lighten your mood a little bit. “Better than a goth playboy bunny?” you’d snap back. And there it was. Chris knew in that moment exactly what was bothering you. He knew the insecurities that you’d had, but after dating for so long he assumed they’d gone away. What was that saying again? Old habits die hard.

Does it upset him that you’re still insecure about yourself and where you stand with him? Maybe a little. Does it bother him more that he didn’t see it coming after he’d weighed all the pros and cons of having backup dancers on stage? Absolutely. He’d planned the costumes, the stage set up, the choreography, all things that he felt would make for a great show but wouldn’t be to suggestive or to much. And when something like your reaction came to his attention he realized that he may have made a huge error.

As a workaholic he spent months planning this out, every second of the 2-hour show where he was center stage planned out and overseen by him in every way. He couldn’t change it now, he couldn’t adjust now, the show was what it was. It was the band’s collective ideas and thoughts; it was everything they had hoped for a Motionless in White tour.

Realistically he is a Libra. His biggest red flag is he is self-absorbed and can’t really process others’ emotions when it comes to his own projects. BUT in the light of the event at hand there is only one thing that he can say that would make it better.

He proceeds to explain to you that two of the dancers are friends, one of whom is engaged to Ryan. The others all have boyfriends of their own. The one single dancer, she’s gay. It’s not much but it is the realness of the situation. “Besides, there is no one else I’d rather see sitting on my couch patiently waiting for me while I’m hyper focused on my work. Nobody who knows me so well that she has food delivered to the warehouse when I’m working late and forgot to eat that day. Nobody who is so proud to see me work that she acts like it’s her first concert every time.”

It’s not the ‘baby I love you and only you’ ‘no one could ever replace you’ response you were looking for. But the fact that he notices all the little things you do for him was enough to make you realize that despite everything you had his heart and he had yours.

#miw #miw band #chris motionless

[spellicuprightnow]

Uh ohh

I'm finally back and I've been on about my Borderlands OC a lot recently. I've been in the fandom for a few years, it's my absolute favorite game, but unfortunately its community online doesn't seem to be very big so I thought why not post here too? You know, in hopes of making other Borderlands mutuals!

I just recently decided to redraw him, but this is Ruben! A one-eyed 18 year old vault hunter of the botanist class intended for a debut on the Borderlands 2 timeline, who has a freaky fascination with carnivorous plants. I decided maybe he should be like a counterpart to Gaige in a way, since they have a lot of similarities and all.

Here's his new reference sheet I've made recently! I'm pretty proud of how it turned out. But there's a few details I could nitpick at, like I accidentally left tiny marks around on it and I don't like the way i drew his legs.

I made a doodle of him sleepy too that I really like for some reason. Aside from the creepy looking hand

If anyone ends up liking him, I might do the whole ask-box thing? But that really depends.

For now here's some random facts/trivia about him!

• He has a massive sweet tooth, like his reference says! He always has a lollipop or bublegum in his mouth. I imagine he'd like food in general though.

• His favorite lollipop flavors are blue raspberry and pomegranate while his favorite bubblegum flavors are the original and cotton candy.

• He has a flytrap mutant sidekick named Medusa, who likes to swallow baddies whole and make a big gutty mess!! But I like to think some of his skills would include upgrading her to give off toxic spores or create spiked thorns on the ground in a certain range during combat.

• He has a soft spot for Pandora's wildlife, though unfortunately a Rakk attack was the cause of his missing eye.

• In combat he can go animalistic, like running on all fours or biting/gnawing on his weapons- or even enemies.

• Probably a masochist, and usually enjoys taking hits if anything.

• Uses a lot of plant related metaphors, for example he likes using the word "Weedkiller" as an insult.

• He sleeps with the teddy bear shown in the doodle but will die with that information!

I've been randomly doodling him but maybe sometime I'll make a BL3 design.

#borderlands #borderlands 2 #borderlands oc #tales from the borderlands #borderlands fanart #gearbox #borderlands 3 #vault hunter

[dzamie-oc]

Voretober 09 - Wheel

what the hell am I supposed to do with "wheel"

Length: 1600 words Vore type: Oral vore, unwilling prey, F/M Fandom: None Other info: snake/anthro, digestion as threat Summary: A fox on the run finds a fortuitous hiding spot, and the snake in it is very friendly! Surely nothing will go wrong.

David vaulted over a fallen log, then took a tight left around a boulder, using his fluffy to counterbalance, before using it to leap across a stream. His pursuer may have been faster than him, but he knew these woods like the back of his hand. Unfortunately, that didn't mean the fox could keep it up forever, or even lose his tracker; he'd have to settle on a hiding place, but all the trees took too long to climb, the bushes were too thin, and the stream was simply too slow. Running mostly on autopilot, his limbs carried him over and around what David hoped would be a tough route to follow, while he searched his memory and sight for a big enough tree or log hollow, a cave, anything.

A looming, black shape grabbed his attention; without a better plan, David swung his arm around a thin tree and beelined for… a huge tire, laying across one of the forest's tourism nature trails. The fox inwardly grimaced at the sign of heavy industrial equipment, but decided it was ultimately a boon: worrying about future development would have to wait for him to know that his future would even exist. After one last peek over his shoulder, checking if his pursuer, and thus he, could be easily seen, David dove into the middle of the tire and shimmied into its cavity. Opaque, relatively small, and granting him shadow to hide in, a fantastic stroke of luck.

"Gah! Woah, where'd you come from?" At the new voice, David's heart thundered. Luckily, he didn't recognize it, so he at least knew who it wasn't.

Still, the fox looked around for the source, hesitant to speak up, just in case. On the slightly sunnier side of the tire, he caught the shimmer of mottled, brown scales, and as his eyes adjusted to the shade, he saw more and more of the stranger. A long snake coiled over and around herself, only barely encircled by the massive tire, with her head resting about a third of the way around from him. Scales slid against scales as she drew closer, keen curiosity in her bright yellow eyes.

This time, it was intimidation, not fear of discovery, that stayed David's tongue, so the snake flickered hers and tried again. "Not that I mind company, but I was in the middle of a nap…" she said, then turned her head to yawn; Her lower jaw wiggled back and forth before returning to normal at the end. "…hello? Foxy?"

Realizing that she expected him to speak, David finally found his voice. "I… I'm hiding from someone. I don't know for certain what will happen, but I really, really don't want to be caught." A thought struck him, and he consulted his mental map of the forest. "Has this tire been here long? I don't remember it when I passed by a few days ago."

"Oh, it's mine. A portable hide, and one not out of place nearly anywhere!" The snake tapped her head affectionately against the inner rubber. "It took a bit to learn how to roll in it, but well worth it!"

The fox sighed, relieved. "So there aren't plans to destroy this forest. Good."

"Nope, just a wandering snake. Fiona, by the way, amateur story collector."

"Huh?"

"My name. Since I figure we'll be close for a bit," Fiona replied.

"Right, sorry. I'm David… just a fox." Something piqued his curiosity. "What do you mean, story collector?"

Fiona's eyes gleamed. "I'm glad you asked! After all, it's the reason I'm even in this thing! Lay back, let me elucidate." David did so, shimmying back against several lengths of her scaly body. His paws found a convenient gap to tuck into, and then the snake continued:

"Nearly since I hatched, I loved hearing about stuff other people did - incredible sights my siblings saw, improbable battles, tales of creatures I never even thought could exist! I did what I could to remember them and retell them for my younger siblings, or those who simply weren't there to hear at the time."

A comforting pressure crept up David's ankles. "That… if you don't mind me saying, that sounds pretty normal so far."

"It was! But eventually, I realized that different creatures and people have different life stories to tell, and I'd get comparatively nowhere just by staying around where I grew up." Fiona's head drifted from one side of the tire to the other, and David's gaze followed.

"So you decided to travel and found the tire?"

The snake laughed. "Oh, no, this was only a few months ago. I started by just slithering around." As though demonstrating, her entire body shifted and undulated against itself, covering more of David's body; he thought perhaps he ought to be concerned, but he wanted to hear Fiona tell her story. "But I did decide to travel! Forests, villages, a couple streams, so many different people with so many life stories to tell. A recent favorite of mine is a bunny girl whose life story was the time she scammed a human out of two entire caskets of wi- oop, shush!"

With a blur of movement, Fiona's coils covered David completely; he was about to shout and try to free himself when, instead, he heard very familiar footsteps. Hidden so completely by the snake's body, it was only his ears that truly picked up the person he was trying so hard to avoid. Raggedy breathing, the slam of paws on rubber, and a low growl; the fox could only pray that Fiona was the only one visible. After far too much time to be comfortable, the breathing grew quieter, as did angry, heavy footsteps.

Finally, a few lengths of her scaly body parted, letting him see again. In front of him was a smiling snake, yellow eyes bright and mirthful, clearly trying her best not to laugh. Looking at her, he found it tempting to join in - but wouldn't dare having just escaped disaster. Once again, Fiona was the first to speak, in a hissing whisper, "his entire head was bright pink!"

David grinned back and nodded. "Yeah, we're not exactly friends. Now, I wouldn't kill him, but I don't know if he'd extend the same courtesy."

"Clearly. Oh, speaking of which, would you like to know why I said the bunny thing was her life story, even though it was just a day? I've got two reasons."

The fox hummed. "Is one of them philosophical, like it's a representation of their personality in just one story?"

Fiona giggled, bringing a smile to David's muzzle. "Kind of! It's more that they're all unique, at least in how they're told if not what actually happens in there. Like lives! I like your idea, though."

In spite of himself, David felt himself blush at the compliment; he told himself it was just because he was laying down that his face grew so easily hot. "Thanks, Fiona. You said two, though? What's the second?"

"I'm glad you asked!"

The serpentine smile before him vanished, instead transforming into a wide, fleshy maw, glistening with drool. David tried to pull back, but of course, her body was all around him, and there was nothing he could do as pink filled his vision, then black, as she swallowed his muzzle and head in just a few gulps. The fox tried his best to push her off, but not only did her scaly body keep his from moving too much, it even tightened when he struggled! With her throat holding his mouth closed, the closest he could manage to a cry for help was a frantic moan, one muffled by her jaws and the tire. Of course, even without it, the two of them had put so much effort into being unheard that David was certain nobody around would have been able to hear him, anyway.

Around his shoulders, the heat and wetness of Fiona's mouth replaced her cooler, dry scales. When David focused - and he tried not to - he felt her throat expand and contract, allowing her to work her way down his body. His chest and midsection were next to go, leaving his arms pinned only by her gullet, rather than her coils, not that that was any help, as a few futile struggles soon proved. As she approached his waist, part of the fox was still in denial: surely she was far too thin a snake to fit him? Clearly, Fiona would have to give up eventually. But as a discomforting dampness and pressure slipped over his hips and down his thighs, that fantasy grew weaker and weaker.

With her maw at his knees, David found the pressure around his head lessen. The air grew more acrid, but her body wasn't as tight so deep. He tried shouting for help, just in case, right before her mouth closed after his paws, sealing his doom. From there, he could do little more than wait while her body squeezed the rest of his into her stomach. The fox's eyes stung, but no tears came. And then, with her throat clear once more, the snake addressed him once more.

"You're handling this well. Anyway, more practically, I call them life stories because they're given in exchange for life!" The pep in Fiona's voice carried a far more menacing quality from the inside of her stomach, David found. "So, mister "just a fox," unless you want to take care of my lunches for the next couple weeks, I can't wait to hear yours!"

#voretober #wheel #furry #anthro #v/ore #v.ore #vorefic #writing #writers on tumblr #furry fox #snake #reptile #feral #snake pred #feral pred #furry prey #unwilling prey #text

[snappedsky]

Borderlands: Skies the Ultimate Treasure Hunter

Skies and Tannis have a discussion about Psychos.

*Reblogs appreciated*

--

The Fantastic Fustercluck Part 1

“What is the difference between us and Psychos?”

“Um...they wear masks?”

“That was rhetorical.”

“Oh.”

Skies sits on the operating table of the infirmary in Sanctuary III, watching Tannis pace about around her. The doctor had invited her here in order to discuss an experiment she’s working on.

“More specifically, what is the different between you and I and Psychos?” Tannis continues. “Psychos have spread out around the galaxy, but they originated on Pandora. They came about in different ways- experiments, trauma, simply losing their mind. But one of their common qualities is Pandora. So why aren’t you and I Psychos?”

Skies opens her mouth but Tannis cuts her off. “Again, rhetorical. As I was saying, you and I both spent significant amounts of time isolated on Pandora. Anyone else who suffered a similar fate became Psychos, but we didn’t.”

“I surmise that my studying of the Vaults helped me from falling into Psychosis. All that time alone, I remained razor focused on my work. And that focus kept me from losing my sanity.” “Well...” Skies shrugs arguably.

“But what about you?” Tannis questions, ignoring her. “You came quite close to becoming a Psycho, as evident by your own ECHO log.”

She grabs her ECHO device and plays an old recording; one Skies made years ago, when she was alone on Pandora after Jack’s death.

“I think there’s something really wrong with this planet and it’s doing something to me. Not long ago, I was just wandering around when a band of bandits found me. There was like six of them. I didn’t think I stood a chance but when they drew their guns, something just…came over me. I blacked out. But I remember hearing a voice in my head, loud and angry, and shouting ‘kill! Blood! Kill!’ Next thing I knew, all the bandits were dead. I killed them-no. I slaughtered them with my knife. Their blood was everywhere. I still taste it between my teeth. God, and it had been so long since I’ve eaten. There really is something wrong with this planet…with me.”

“I can’t believe you have that,” Skies groans when the recording ends. “I knew I should’ve burned those tapes.

“Yes,” Tannis sighs contently. “Sometimes I like to listen to them while inside my saurian skin and drinking tea. But I digress.”

#borderlands #borderlands 3 #borderlands au #borderlands fanfiction #borderlands krieg #the fantastic fustercluck #borderlands oc #myocs #myart

[maccreadysbaby]

You asked for Deacon requests so have some angst: Sole coming back from the Institute, reading the Railroad terminals and finding out Deacon knew about them and their connection to the Institute before they even left the Vault, and that he probably already knew Shaun was old/out of their reach?

Coming right up, hot, ready, and full of angst and hurt/comfort, my faves

LIES OF OMISSION™︎

Sole was utterly broken.

Their son. Their baby was the leader of the Institute, the boogeyman of the commonwealth, the very thing they’d been fighting against since the moment they stepped out of the vault. Why him? Why them? It was to the point, now, that Sole was numb. The pain was so overbearing that they just couldn’t feel it anymore.

Sole couldn’t help the defeated sigh that came spilling out as soon as they zapped back into the Railroad HQ from the Institute. Desdemona, Drummer Boy, and Tinker Tom all tried to speak to them as they walked in, but they ignored them all and pushed into P.A.M.’s room to log their findings and install the information on her terminal. It was also a nice time for them to get some peace and quiet, to mull over what their life had come to, because P.A.M. was being worked on by Tinker Tom and was out of commission for now. Thankfully, Deacon had disappeared while they were gone, like he normally did during uncomfortable situations, and he hadn’t come back yet.

They headed inside the room to find the terminal already open on some other agent’s logs. It wasn’t rare that Sole had to close out other agents logs — they were probably the only ones who cared enough to close them and sort them on the data system. As they drew nearer and caught sight of the glowing green words on the screen, though, the name at the top caught their attention.

DEACON - 9/5/87

They quietly wondered why a year old report of Deacon’s was pulled up, but they didn’t pay much attention. Instead, they started the commands to close out the file and sort it with the others, but something else on the screen caught their eye. Their name.

Curiously, Sole skimmed through his report. And then they did a double take, reading every word, taking in every letter, even going as far as to search between the lines. Deacon’s report was about them. About them and the Institute. About Shaun, their son, being the leader, about Shaun, their son, being an old man and not a baby. It was like he knew everything about them. But the date… they hadn’t even been thawed yet when he wrote that report.

They got dizzy. All this time he’d been supporting them in their endeavor to find their son, and all this time, he knew? He knew they would never find him? He knew they’d never get their baby boy back? He knew about the Institute, about Shaun, about Kellogg, about everything?

Sole felt sick as they turned away from the computer. But, much to their disdain, the very person they didn’t want to see was standing right behind them, silent for what seemed like the first time in his life. He knew they read it. They knew he knew they read it. The real question, now, was who was going to speak first?

Unsurprisingly, it was Deacon. There was no doubt he knew what Sole was thinking. It was the first time they’d seen him so serious — his expression soft and worried even behind his sunglasses. His voice came out gentler than they’d ever heard it before, as he muttered the only two words he could seem to force out: “I’m sorry.”

It was then that everything Sole was storing up inside seemed to come crashing down.

“You’re sorry? You’re sorry? That’s all you have to say?!” They snapped, throwing a hand out to the side. “You’ve known everything this entire time and all I get is an I’m sorry?!”

“Sole, listen-“

“-No! No! You listen to me!” The rage and despair they’d been holding about their son was building up, and hot tears pooled in their eyes as they shouted at him: “Everyone warned me about you the second I got here! Everyone told me to stay away from you, that you were just a dirty liar, that you’d been trained out of telling the truth and that you’d taint me with your… with your… your arrogance and your ignorance and your…”

Sole’s sentence trailed off, replaced by a childish hiccup as they ran a hand through their hair. Tears were streaming down their face, and the rest of HQ had gone silent in the other room, but they didn’t care. Deacon was standing right ahead, staring straight at them. Listening.

“I dismissed everyone, saying… saying you couldn’t be that bad, that you just needed a friend, that… that…” They gripped at the collar of their shirt. “I trusted you! I trusted you, Deacon! I stood by you when no one else would, I was on your side when you told me about your past, I gave you my unconditional support and told you every detail of my life, but silly me, you already knew! Why didn’t you tell me?!”

Deacon shifted on his feet, muttering softly: “Because I was scared.”

“Huh? You were what?” Sole asked, stepping closer even though they’d very clearly heard what he said. He shifted his weight again, running a hand through his wig.

“I was scared, Sole. I didn’t want to tell you when you were fresh out of the vault, because that would’ve just screwed everything up. And then we started getting closer, and I got… I got scared of losing you, okay? I knew if I told you, you’d hate me.”

“And not telling me would be so much better?!” They shouted, wiping at the tears that were pouring down their face at an alarming rate. “Every time you’ve encouraged me to keep going, told me I would find him one day, watched me break down because I couldn’t find my baby… it was all a lie. I should’ve listened to everyone else. You’re just a dirty liar.”

Their last words came out as a half-voiced whimper, but Deacon flinched like they’d screamed it. Little did they know, it’d hit him like a bullet to the chest.

They began to sob more violently, turning away from him, choking: “Just a liar.”

“I… I didn’t mean for you to find out, Sole.”

“A lie of omission is… still a lie,” They muttered, sinking down in the small metal chair in the corner of P.A.M.’s room. They placed their hands on their knees and laced their fingers in their hair, crying. “Now would be a good time for you to disappear, like you always do.”

They didn’t hear anything for a solid thirty seconds, so they safely assumed he’d left. That was when they let themselves fall apart. They sat right there in that chair, folded over on themselves, crying like an absolute baby. Spluttering, hiccuping, weeping like a widow at a funeral. It was simply the most pitiful they’d ever looked, and the worst they’d ever felt. Their son was the leader of their worst enemy, and their best friend had been hiding it from them for their entire friendship. They were utterly and completely alone.

Until someone put a hand on their back?

They sat up, glancing at the person pitifully. They’d expected Drummer Boy, or Tinker Tom, maybe, but who they saw wasn’t either of them. It was him. He hadn’t left.

They wanted to hit him. They wanted to scream and yell and curse and shove him around and tell him how awful he was, remind him how much bad he’d done. They wanted to re-hash all the deep depths of his past that he’d whispered to them in deep conversations and pour them down on his head like acid rain, so loudly that Desdemona and all of Boston could hear. They wanted to strip him, break him, to make him nothing more than the shattered frame of a person because that’s what they were.

…But they couldn’t. Because he wasn’t a bad person. Because he didn’t deserve it. Because they loved him, Deacon, just how he was. They knew they shouldn’t have been able to look over the lies like that. They should’ve screamed and cried until their voice went out, should’ve shoved him out of their life and never allowed him back in. They should’ve closed the door in his face like everyone else had, left him to ponder what he’d done like a young child in time out. But somehow, they just couldn’t. They couldn’t do it. That very moment, when they should’ve made him feel like the scum he was, when they should’ve told him off and never spoke to him again, they…

They just wanted him.

All the rage inside of them dwindled to nothing as they stood up. Deacon was obviously expecting another explosion, for them to spew vile things and tell him off until he had no choice but to leave. But instead, Sole walked forward, wrapping their arms around him like they’d never hugged someone before in their life, whispering:

“I didn’t mean it,”

They felt his arms wrap around them securely. “I know you did, it’s okay. You were right. I am just a liar.”

A few more sobs wracked Sole’s small frame, and they tightened their grip around him, suddenly growing exceedingly desperate. “I’m sorry… I’m so sorry, Deacon, please, please don’t leave me. Please don’t leave, I don’t… I can’t do this without you. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“Hey, hey, boss, who said I was leaving?” He asked, pulling them closer against his chest. “Stop apologizing. I deserved to hear every bit of what you said and more. I’m not going to leave you, Sole. And that’s something I’m not willing to lie about.”

Sole sank into his embrace, crying like a baby for what seemed like hours.

They loved him.

#fo4 deacon #deacon fallout 4 #deacon fo4 #fallout deacon #fallout four #fo4 #fallout 4 #fallout #drummer boy #railroad

[mishkakagehishka]

Hiii <3 I was wondering if you could write something for Hiiro Amagi? If so then could you write one wherein ALKALOID hosts a physical meet and greet in a mall and he sort of falls in love at first sight with the gender neutral reader who just so happens to be passing by.

Ohh, and i also love the one you wrote with Leo :D Have a nice day!

Thankies! ^^ I enjoyed writing this a lot, love at first sight. It gave me a bit soulmate AU feels~

Word count: 1290 Summary: Hiiro ditches his job halfway through in order to talk to that mysterious person - he was simply drawn to them, he couldn't help it! Notes: I have no idea what a physical meet and greet entails, so it's a handshake event. I also have no idea what a handshake event entails. I'm just stringing words together <3 Also first time writing Hiiro!!

"Thank you for supporting us!" "You were at our live, too, right? I remember you!" "P-please, continue to watch over us…" Hiiro observed his unitmates shaking the hands of the fans who came to see them, offering words of comfort and appreciation. That day's handshake event took place at the local mall, one he was already familiar with as they also did most their shopping there themselves. It's already been some time since they managed to avoid being fired, since ALKALOID became an established unit, since Hiiro arrived in the city, but he still found himself lost, so to say, in certain situations. Although ALKALOID had hosted handshake events before, he still felt like he didn't quite get the gist of it, and so appreciated the fact that he had a chance to once more confirm how he was expected to act. He was grateful for his unitmates, in that sense, asides from serving as an example to him, they were also always quick to help him. In a way, he felt like he was the leader of their unit, but they held him firmly in that position, helping him, showing him the way when he couldn't see it. If he was the head of ALKALOID, they were the neck that supported him. His thoughts were cut short when another fan approached him, hands outstretched. He took them in his own, gave a firm squeeze, and with the friendliest smile he naturally held, he said, "We'll continue showing you the best performances!" And he meant it. He always did.

As much as they all loved interacting with their fans, giving them back for their support (and Aira especially seemed to almost cry every time a fan with an ita-bag dedicated to him came along; it would just be the two of them clutching each other’s hands and sobbing thank-yous), it was undeniable that handshake events were the ones that got repetitive quite quickly, and it's common for the idols' thoughts to start wandering after a while. For their eyes to start darting from place to place, everywhere except to their work.

Hiiro, who often found his attention span lacking, was in just such a situation. His eyes escaping, though he made sure to earnestly thank the fans and shake their hands strongly, he couldn't help his thoughts drifting away. Despite the fact that he was getting used to life in the city, he still found it fascinating to observe the diverse array of people and types who occupied the streets, the life of the city. He was doing just that in that moment; when he wasn't looking a fan in the eyes and thanking them for their support, he was looking at the people who walked around the mall, carrying bags, entering and exiting the individual stores. Couples, families, people who came with friends, people who came alone. In one of those moments, he noticed a certain person. He couldn't tell you what exactly made him notice them specifically, he simply… found himself drawn in by the air they gave off, despite walking quite a distance away from the area of the mall where ALKALOID were holding the handshake event. There was just something about them that drew him in – that hypnotised him.

He didn't hear Tatsumi's concerned questions, nor Aira's exasperated scolding as he sprinted out of the area, vaulting over the waist-high fence that separated it from the mall proper. His athletic disposition came to show in that performance, as he managed to cross the distance in mere seconds. In mere seconds - he was face to face with them.

"Excuse me!" He called out, skidding to a halt, barely out of breath. They jumped ever so slightly, a natural reaction to seeing such an energetic man running so quickly in their direction. "Um, hi?" And he… found himself at a loss for words. Although he made his move boldly, it was still made on impulse, and now he hadn't a clue on what to actually say to them. All he could think is that he had to say something charming, something witty, something that would impress them, but also endear him. Instead, he only stared at them for a few seconds, silent as a bug. "... Do you need something?" They shifted from one leg to another. "Uh," he snapped out of it, "My name is Amagi Hiiro, and… I saw you, I mean, I couldn't help but notice you!" "Yes?" "And, well, I was, uh," he was tripping over his words again, finding it harder to explain himself. Ultimately, he decided it would be best to be direct, "There was just something about you that made me want to come and talk to you!" "Well, here we are, talking." Though the interaction was edging on the side of awkward, they couldn't see in Hiiro any malicious intent. His smile and eyes seemed honest, and his body language was open, friendly. There was nothing about his carriage that would hint at any dangerous thoughts or plans brewing in his mind, rather, he came across as trustworthy. Furthermore, they couldn't deny that there was, similarly, something about Hiiro that made them want to get to know him better, too. "Fumu! But, I'd like to-"

"Hey, Hiro-kun!" Aira angrily stomped over, huffing and puffing (and slightly short of breath). "What's the big idea, huh?! We're in the middle of a job!" "Oh, my bad!" "Don't 'my bad' me! What was so important that-" He interrupted himself as he met eyes with the person, noticing the way they were holding the hem of their jacket, almost shyly. They waved to him with the other hand, a small wave. "I was just trying to get the chance to get to know them better! I saw them, and thought I just had to talk to them. I’m sure you understand, friend." But, unlike the charmingly oblivious Hiiro, Aira's read enough fanfiction to know what was going on. "Is it love at first sight…? Rabu~i!" He squealed, pushing lightly at Hiiro's back, pushing him closer to them. "Wait, no! Ugh, just exchange numbers and meet up for coffee or something later! We still have work to do!" "Fumu! … How do I exchange numbers?" The person’s eyes lit up. "I'll show you," they immediately volunteered, beyond happy that Aira gave the suggestion to him.

And while Aira quietly left to leave them to it (though sticking by some ways further just to make sure Hiiro actually comes back without dilly-dallying), they took Hiiro's phone, inputting their own phone number in it with ease. "And this is my name," they pointed at the newly made contact. "Call me when you're free," they said with a warm smile. "I will! Thank you!" "Of course, it's no problem. If you finish with your work soon, we can meet up for coffee today, too. There's this really good café that opened here a few days ago, and I've been dying for a chance to check it out." "That sounds great! I would love to-" "Hiro-kun!" The look and laughter they shared in that moment felt natural with them, Hiiro noted.

He thought about Aira's exclamation - love at first sight. And he noticed how much he wanted to keep his eyes on them as he walked away. And he noticed how nervous and impatient he was, wanting to see them again, as he was working. And he wondered. Love at first sight. As he felt himself cheer up the moment he saw them, as they got lost in conversation about everything and nothing on that sweetly innocent first date, as he went home thinking how much he already misses them… He thought that Aira might just have been right.

#i did mention soulmate aus bc i wouldn't mind requests pertaining them. btw #wait i just had an idea- #ensemble stars #enstars fanfiction #hiiro amagi #amagi hiiro #hiiro amagi x reader #reader insert #enstars fluff #my writing

[enderpearl-earrings]

You Weren’t Alone After All (C!Dream x GN Reader)

Angst?? On MY page?? Please send requests, what am I supposed to do, come up with ideas myself?? Awful. GN is gender neutral btw :)

This is a shorter one shot than I usually do, but honestly it’s easier for me to write for the ccs since there is so much lore that I’m not caught up with

“I love you.” The man towered above you as he spoke, porcelain mask slick with rain. Beads of water dripped from his dirty blond hair that was tied back in a haste. The grey sky dampened the mood of what was supposed to be a happy occasion. You had been waiting for him to say those three words to you for years. 

He extended a gloved hand to you, pushing aside his green cloth cloak. As you reached out to him, a pang inside you told you that something was off. Hesitating, you drew your hand back. 

“What’s the matter, love?” As he tilted his head to the side, his colors blended together a minuscule amount, something that would only be noticeable to someone who had been here before many a time. 

“Please stop.” The teardrops that stung your eyes were involuntary. You hadn’t yet put your finger on what was wrong, why you had felt you had lived this memory already, or why him saying those three words you had always wanted him to only made you feel hurt inside.

“Y’know something I’ve always admired about you is that you’re so...” He quieted for a moment, watching the tears slip down your face. “...pathetic.”

A crack of thunder woke you, eyes darting around the dark room in a panic. As you clutched your chest and tried to regain your breath, you could feel your heart race. Heaving out a sigh, you tucked your knees into your chest. 

Maybe this repetitive dream was telling you that you needed closure. You hadn’t seen Dream since the day he left, the rain pouring almost as hard as it was in the current moment. It wasn’t that you didn’t have the opportunity. You had plenty of chances before he was apprehended. You couldn’t face the distress of loving him and knowing he would not love you back. 

He wasn’t a good person. But that didn’t stop you from wanting him. More specifically, the him you met when you stumbled upon a small house in the middle of the lake. The man who cared for his friends, who laughed, who cried, who saddled up Spirit with you just to go on long horseback rides together. 

You couldn’t bring yourself to believe that was the same man who is sitting in Pandora’s Vault. But you hoped in desperation that he was in there somewhere. The last year had seeded doubts in you, wondering if the man you fell in love with was all just a ruse, a manipulation tactic. 

There was something still pulling you to him, even after you had distanced yourself from everyone who reminded you of him. You cut ties with George, Sapnap, Bad, Tommy, everyone. You thought if you could be alone, you could have a clean slate. But you were never alone. The ghost of Dream haunts you everywhere you turn, day and night. Such is life. 

You just had to go to the prison. There was no other option. Maybe if you saw him again, really saw him for what he was in that cell, you could move on, and be comfortable with the fact that he would spend the rest of his godforsaken life rotting behind those obsidian walls.

---

The ride to Pandora’s Vault was long, your horse displeased with his coat being drenched. The torrential downpour from last night had continued into the morning. You had tried to wait it out in your cabin, but it showed no sign of letting up. Not wanting to back down while you still had the courage, you tacked up and pressed on. 

Knowing your horse would not roam far, you unbridled him and released him to graze. Drawing in a deep breath, you approached the guard standing at the front doors, who escorted you to a lobby-looking area to wait for Sam. Once Sam had entered the room and given a slight nod, the guard returned to his post outside.

“Who are you.” The tone in Sam’s voice made it clear this was not a question.

“I’m here to see Dream. Is that okay?” Your voice grew meek as your word count increased. 

Sam pulled a trident out that had been strapped to his back, voice dark. “I said, who are you.” 

“I’m Y/n, I’m a--I used to be an old friend of Dream’s.” Taking a shaky breath, you continued. “I have no interest in aiding in his escape. All I seek is closure. I need to see for myself who he’s become.”

Sam scoffed. “What he is is a maximum-security prisoner charged with destroying L’Manberg and the Community House, attempting to frame Tommy, attempting total control--”

“I know, Sam. Please. Even just five minutes. Just a glimpse at him is all that I ask.” Your eyes plead for him to grant you this one thing. You would never bother him again if he let you have this.

Sam stayed silent as if he were made from obsidian and blackstone like the rest of the place. Finally, he spoke.

“Follow me. I’ll need all of your belongings besides the clothes on your back. This includes any armor, food, weapons, potions, etc.” Sam spoke in monotone as he was already moving toward the hallway as if he had given this speech many times before. You were just relieved he was granting you this one wish.

The item search got a little too close for your liking, but you understood that they couldn’t be too careful with a prisoner like Dream. It went fast enough, and your items had been secured in a locked chest. 

With each echoing step you took down the dark halls and into various rooms, your stomach twisted tighter. You didn’t expect visiting the prison to be a fun experience, but it was just hitting you how serious the situation is, and how dangerous Dream must be to have this many security measures in place. 

You hadn’t been paying attention to where you were going, too focused on convincing yourself not to turn tail and run. Just as you were about to tap Sam on the shoulder and tell him this was a mistake and apologies for wasting his time, he had announced you had arrived.

A wall of thick, flowing lava stood before you, searing your skin with its heat. Sam’s golden armor glowed in the orange light cast from the molten liquid. You were unsure how the cue was given to cut off the lava and extend the retractable bridge, but as soon as you would not be in danger of death from burning or a fall, Sam shoved you forward.

“You have an hour. I’ll come to retrieve you in exactly 60 minutes. Your time starts now.” Just as Sam is almost out of view, he turns back to add, “If you’re in mortal danger, call for help. There are cameras present.”

“Gee, that’s comforting.” You murmur, wincing as the sound of lava beginning to fall hits your ears. Looking around the room sent you into a panic. Upon first glance, you couldn’t find Dream. Sam had prided this prison as inescapable, but what if he had? 

“Tommy, I already told you--”

“I’m not Tommy.” You most likely wouldn’t have noticed where Dream was if he hadn’t spoken. He was sitting next to the lectern in such a way that it was almost hiding him.

“Oh.” All of the emotion drained from his voice, his shoulders slumping as he continued to face forward, head down. It stung a little that he seemed to not care who you were or why you were there. 

His orange jumpsuit was shredded in places as if he got in a fight and it was never replaced. His hair once had a shine to it, but now it was dull as could be. It had grown long, falling to a low point on his back. It looked matted and greasy as if he hadn’t had a shower in a long time. 

“Dream...it’s Y/n.” You began to approach him at a slow pace as if he were a wild animal you did not want to spook. As you sat down in front of him, he raised his head but did nothing else. 

Tears began to build in the corners of your eyes as you looked at his face. His face had been so marred with scars that it was difficult to see the freckles that used to be his defining feature. Some scars looked old, others new. His once bright green eyes were almost as dull as his hair. His mask that you had rarely seen him without laid at his feet, in pieces. 

“So now you decide to visit after I’ve taken a dive off the deep end. Some friend you are.” So he did remember you. If the words themselves weren’t enough of a context clue, the bitter pain in his voice told you all you needed to know. 

“Don’t put this on me. You lost yourself a long time ago.” You rested your palms on the floor, ready to run if he swung at you.

“Uh-huh, sure.” Sarcasm dripped off of every word.

“We tried to save you from yourself, Dream! Sapnap, George, and I! But you never listened. You and your god complex ruined your life, not us!” Tears fell down your face and onto the obsidian floor. “Don’t you dare tell me no one was there for you!”

“You know what is on you? It’s your mistake for trusting me. Maybe I was never that guy who you say I was. Maybe all I am is a toxic manipulator with a god complex.” Dream snapped back, words stinging you like poison.

“Yeah, I did make a mistake. And that mistake was ever falling in love with you. You’ve caused me nothing but suffering but I still am not over you. I want to believe that guy I fell in love with is in there but...” Holding your face in your hands, you let out a sob. You were so engrossed in your own emotions that you didn’t notice him grow quiet.

“You love me?” His now raspy voice fell just above a whisper.

“Unfortunately. All I ever wanted was for you to love me back, was for you to say you loved me. That’s what I wanted that day you left, when I poured my heart out to you, telling you not to go.” Voice shaking, you pressed on. “But you made your decision that day. You turned your back on everyone who cared about you.”

Shoulders shaking, you held your knees in a vice grip. 

“I’m sorry I ever felt anything for a monster like you.” If you had looked up from the obsidian floor, you would have noticed Dream’s expression crack at the sudden chill of your voice.

Dream raised a hand, leaving it hovering in the air as he hesitated. Closing his eyes, he brushed strands of hair out of your face, wiping tears as he did so. His hand lingered by your ear for longer than he meant to.

“I’m sorry too.” Dream murmured, sounding defeated and tired. He was already in his own personal hell and wasn’t sure why watching you cry because of him made his chest ache. 

The sizzling sound that indicated the lava flow ceasing meant that your visit was over. It was then that Dream said something that surprised you.

“Please come back.” His sudden change in attitude scared you, but you supposed that was common in people forced into solitary confinement. 

You began to stand, Dream grabbing your wrist as you did. “Dream I...I don’t know that I can.” You couldn’t afford to give yourself hope that he felt anything for you. You had to convince yourself that he was only a villain, nothing more. I was for your own sake.

“Please. Just once more. All I ask.” You began to think that he was acting like this just to get someone who would help him escape Pandora’s Vault. However, the desperation in his eyes planted seeds of doubt.

“Goodbye, Dream.” As you approached Sam, you internalized everything that had happened. Instead of closure, the past hour had only left you with more questions than answers. 

You knew it would be better for you to stay away, to turn your back and never go to him again. But it was so hard to stay away, wasn’t it?

#dream smp x reader #dream x reader #dreamwastaken x reader #dsmp fanfic #dream smp #dream smp fanfiction #dsmp x reader #c!dream x reader #dreamwastaken #dsmp #x reader fanfiction #c!dream

[hedgiwithapen]

What’s the point of trying if it just proves that I’ll never be good enough? Ezekiel and Jenkins

set before the last scene of the season 2 finale Ezekiel  grinned to himself, relocking the door behind him. The Library's security was fine, if it wanted to keep you out. He'd had to argue with it--quietly, when no one was around to hear-- for something of a challenge, since it kept inviting him in.  Breaking into the vault that housed the really cursed stuff--an emerald the size of his head, a black diamond from some island that absolutely didn't exist anymore, the original ring of Gyges-- was exactly the kind of relaxing afternoon he needed to distract himself. It had been three weeks since the trip to England, three weeks of trying to find anything that would keep him from climbing the walls in his need to fix something everyone kept saying couldn’t be fixed.  Well, maybe they were right. The time machine was shattered, and piecing it back together wouldn’t fix the magic that had powered it. Anything was better, though, than moping. So, the Gem vault. It wasn’t like there was anyone to scold him for it. That done, it was off back through the Annex to see if the Clippings book had literally anything of interest, maybe swipe one of Stone's chocolate bars just to remind him not to get complacent, bother Jenkins...

He drew up short at the sight of Jenkins's desk. It was gleaming, newly polished, and empty.  Ezekiel hustled forward, poking at the air above the desk, running his hands over the sides. There had to be something going on, something invisible, a secret compartment the old guy was finally deciding to use...

"If you want the desk, I'd say you're in a place to...what do they kids call it? Dabs it?"

"Uh, Dibs, Jenkins. Dabbing is... you know." With a furtive glance over his shoulder to be certain that neither Cassandra nor Stone was watching, Ezekiel moved his arms.

"Ah. The traditional greeting amongst the druids, of course," Jenkins said. "Now, I.."

"You what. Have to go somewhere? You?" Ezekiel tried, and failed, to hold back the laugh--no, the chortle.  "You don't go places. Explain about the druids thing?"

"Well perhaps I should." He did not elaborate. “ Go places,” he said after a long moment.

"Yoooouuuu don't mean you're leaving the library?"

"That is what I said," Jenkins sighed. "Perhaps you need your hearing checked?"

"You. Leaving the Library, though?" Ezekiel frowned. "Why?"

"Perhaps because I am bored."

"Pfft, you don't get bored."

"Perhaps I need a vacation," he said. 

"While we're still .." Ezekiel stopped himself, and then continued anyways. "Still short staffed?"

"Mr. Jones, the point?"

"I just... there has to be something else we could try."

"Try?" Jenkins said, drawing himself up to his full height. "Try? What's the point of trying if it just proves it'll never be enough?"

Ezekiel took a careful step back. "Jenkins..."

"Don't, Mr. Jones. Just... don't. I'm not someone who needs to be coddled.  Do you know what these last few weeks have been like for me? Trapped within my own mind, and then..."

"I mean, yeah." Ezekiel said. "The spell got all of us, so..."

"You're mortal. It's to be expected, for you. Not for me. I'm meant to be above that. There's a reason I try not to get involved, and now that I have, I need to go."

"So you're running away."

"I am not running away," Jenkins snapped. "Do you have any idea, any idea at all, what this is like? I couldn't help Mr. Carsen or the Colonel.  I couldn't stop my father from betraying our family, I couldn't save Aur--"

"Enough," Ezekiel said. "Do you think you're the only one who's watched his friends die? Over and over? No matter what you do? Because you're not. And running away from it... it doesn't help. Trust me. Lying to yourself won't bring them back."

"Surprisingly emotionally intelligent of you," Jenkins said quietly.  "But when..."

"I lied. To Eve, to Cass, about the time loop." Ezekiel  shrugged, looking at the card catalog built into the steps instead of at Jenkin's face. "It was easier if they didn't know.  Every time I told them they kept looking at me, and I didn't want them to look at me like that. Like I needed..."

"To be coddled." Jenkins sighed.

"Sure, I guess. Anyways, playing like I didn't know ... that was for them. They don't have to try to fill in the blanks. But it didn't help me. Running away, it won't help you, either. So....Stay. We don't have a Guardian. We need you."

"I'm no guardian." Jenkins said. "but I'll...think about it. That's all I can promise."

"Good enough for me. Oh and, uh... you won't tell them, right? Stone and Cassandra?"

"I'll take your secret to my grave," Jenkins said.

"Great, that--hey."

Jenkins gave him back his own annoying grin, though it faltered. Ezekiel  knew how he felt.

#Dammit Hedgi Day 2023 #The Librarians #Ezekiel Jones #Jenkins #I love them

[project-wildcard]

The Backstory!

Charlie's parents are treasure hunters who search the world for ancient and powerful artefacts so that they can lock them away from the world and keep their ancient powers out of the hands of others who would misuse them. This pays pretty well given there's frequently other treasures hurried with them so Charlie had a pretty comfortable life. When Charlie's mother got pregnant they stepped away from their work to raise their child. They were good parents to Charlie, they were very attentive to their needs and did everything they could to keep Charlie safe and healthy, but a few weeks after Charlie's 5th birthday they decided to go back to work after a certain villain got hold of one of the ancient artefacts they would have sealed away had they been hunting for it.

When their parents left they paid for private mentors for Charlie, who, alongside the usual school subjects, gave them what would pretty much be considered superhero training. It was intense and somewhat unforgiving, and Charlie didn't have any powers, but they became very skilled in pretty much everything. They never questioned it because they knew their parents work was dangerous and assumed it was all just for their own safety.

From then on Charlie pretty much only ever saw their parents on Holidays and birthdays, and every few years they'd have some downtime from treasure hunting for a few weeks that they'd spend together. Charlie was lonely as a kid and their parents understood that. So when they were 14 their parents eventually put them in high school.

They enjoyed highschool, although in their first year they were seen as "the cool new kid" and got befriended by the "cool kids". One day when they were hanging out at Charlie's house, a game of truth or dare led to Charlie being dared to mess with any of the objects on display in their parents' vault. They touched the deck, it embedded itself in them, and they entered Wild mode (I will have a full post on Wild mode eventually, I know I haven't mentioned it yet). During the chaos that followed their friends ran from them and they unleashed many of the artefacts from their parents vault.

When Charlie woke up the next day their parents were already home. They were tested and their parents decided that while the risk was there for Charlie to enter Wild form again, it would be smart to train them to use their powers. They were pulled from school to focus on their training. Charlie was unhappy with this but went with it anyways. They felt uneasy about using their powers but as they gained more control they started to be able to use a handful of them without any active form.

When they were 16 though, they drew a joker from the cursed deck again. They lost control, hurt their parents and destroyed a lot of the house. Once their parents calmed them down and brought them back to being Charlie, they got angry, they quit training, decided they wouldn't be drawing from the deck anymore, and they went back to school. Their old friend group avoided and ignored them. So they went to a small group of people who their old friends had bullied the first time they were in school and joined them.

They finished highschool and went to college, paid for by their parents although they hadn't seen them since they stopped training, still holding resentment for pushing them to try and use their powers. They are now roommates with their highschool friend group, and they began volunteering at an animal shelter near the college. They use their powers to help around the neighborhood but they would never want to deal with any big villains because they know they'd need to draw from the cursed deck to be able to handle it.

Wowza. Took a very long time to make this. I had to decide what I wanted to be detailed on and what I wanted to leave vague. Please do ask questions because I left a lot of things vague so that I can give more details individually. I also left a few things vague so I can tell those stories myself outside of a summary of backstory.

#oc dump #dnd oc #oc #queer oc #superhero oc #mutants and masterminds #original character #queer #infodump #info dump #backstory #hero oc #original story #origin story #neurodivergent #oc description

[jasmines-library]

Not All Is Lost - Chapter One

GN!Reader (No Y/N used currently) Summary: As a survivor of order 66, you join Cere on the Mantis to rescue a Jedi seen in a force vision. As you struggle with your own Force connection, you agree to help Cal reach the Vault on Bogano.

Warnings: Violence, Flashbacks, PTSD?, Death (nothing out of canon), Not properly beta read (struggling with the darkside, but more about that in future chapters hehe)

Word count: 2.1K (it's going to get longer I promise)

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You could feel the darkness radiating as you circled Bracca. The rain thundered down obscuring your vision, but you could still make out the distinct glow of a saber. You could feel it. It had been a while since you had seen one belonging to someone other than an Inquisitor. You watched as it danced, striking against a much more experienced red blade. Someone spoke out to you as you watched with a cautious eye making your way over to the hatch as it hissed open, muffled by the sound of blaster fire from The Mantis. As you drew nearer you could feel the anger. The hatred. Cere called out to the Jedi as he limped towards the ship. As the smoke from the attack cleared the red saber hummed back to life and the intimidating figure of the Second Sister stalked towards the ship, her face hidden by her mask, much like the way your hood hung low over your face. You had more similarities than most people would think. You felt the cool metal of your hilt as your hand hovered above it. Your body itched for you to snatch it up and attack, but you couldn’t. Not again. Breaking out of your shellshock, you yanked the jedi into the ship and slammed your hand on the control panel as Cere began to fire, her shots easily parried. When the Second Sister began to sprint towards you all, her lightsaber in full motion, the darkness became almost overwhelming. As the door closed, she launched herself towards it, striking out with her lightsaber. A scolding gash appeared across the metal on the inside of the ship as Cere and the red-haired Jedi made their way to the front on the ship where a Latero was violently steering trying to throw the Second Sister off the cockpit window. You closed your eyes tight and tried to drown out the thoughts that began to creep into your head. You barely noticed as the ship made the jump to hyperspace. The Jedi, still panicked, kept his saber ignited until Greez hastily told him to put it down. 

“Thanks for the help,” He said as they all made their way to the open space around the holotable where you were still gathering your thoughts. They slowly left as you escaped Bracca. “Who are you people?” He asked. 

“My name is Cere Junda, and this is my captain, Greez Dritus,” She turned to you as pulled down your hood, your hair wild underneath it, “And this is-”

She didn’t get to finish her sentence before your name spilled from his mouth, you smiled softly at him and your resolve faded away. 

“Cal Kestis,”  You had known Cal when you were both padawans. Although you weren’t extremely close, it was incredibly relieving to know he had survived the purge, “I didn’t know it was you we’d find here…”

You were much quieter than he remembered. He looked at you, confused for a moment before returning to his cautious state, “Who was that back there,”

“An Imperial Inquisitor,” Cere answered, venom filling her tone, “ She’s a force user hunting Jedi survivors. And now that she knows who you are…” 

“She will not stop until she destroys you,” you finished.

“How do you know so much? And why’d you help me,”

Cere cast you a glance, “Because it’s happened before. You have them to thank,”

“The force sent me a vision of a Jedi on Bracca. I knew they needed help, I just didn’t know who it was or what from…” Your voice trailed off and your eyes found the floor. You had always been strong with the force. Even from a young age, it was why you were able to see things not many people could, sense little things in people that might have gone unnoticed by anyone else. It was a useful skill, but it came at a price. And now, after the purge your connection was frazzled. 

“They told us what to do and we began to make our move. We track Imperial communications too. We heard the Inquisitors were heading to Bracca so that solidified it,”

“Oh yeah?” He cast a sceptical glance over the three of you. Despite knowing you when you were a youngling, there was no evidence to say you weren’t working with the empire, “What’s the bounty on Jedi these anyway?”

Raising one of his four arms, Greez pointed to Cal, disgust laced on his features, “There’s gratitude for you,”

“Look, I get it. You’ve been surviving on your own for so long that it’s impossible to trust anyone. It’s what’s kept you alive for so long. But this is about something bigger than just surviving. So please, for Maker’s sake,” You lifted your eyes from the floor to meet his gaze, “trust us. Trust me,”

“Bigger than what?” Cal stumbled over his words.

“Like rebuilding the Jedi Order,”

He took a step forward, “You three?,” He raised his eyes, unbelieving “anyone else?”

“Oh? We’re not good enough for you?” Greez said in his usual sarcastic manner. 

“The Jedi Council?” Kestis pressed. 

Mourning the loss of your master, who once stood on the council, you spoke, “They’re gone,”

Cal let out a soft sigh as the hope faded from his face, “So we’re all you’ve got?”

The room was encased in silence for a moment. An uncomfortable silence. 

“Captain, set a course for Bogano,” Cere and Greez headed towards the cockpit, leaving you alone with Cal. 

“Try and get some rest. You’re safe. For now.” As you turned to leave, he grabbed your arm, pulling you to face him. His face was kind yet pained and through his signature you could tell he was mourning the recent loss of a friend.

“What happened?” he asked softly. You furrowed your brow, “To Master Plo?”

Freezing for a moment, you turned away from him pulling away from his grip on your wrist. 

“Get some rest, Cal.”

***

`Sitting on the edge of your bed, you ran your hands slowly through your hair and let out a shaky breath. Tears rolled down your cheeks. Cal meant well, you knew that but you weren’t prepared for his question. You pressed your back against the sheets as your eyes wandered the ceiling, your mind suffocated by deep thoughts. As the ship hurtled towards Bogano, you eventually managed to drift off, only to find your sleep plagued by memories. 

Blaster fire filled the air as you tossed and turned through the skies of Cato Neimoidia, your starship weaving in and out of the suspended cites as you dodged enemy fighters. Despite the efforts, the CIS forces had not been defeated. You and your Master had been sent with a battalion of clones to patrol the air as Cere Junda and her padawan Trilla covered the ground. The blinking of your com alerted you to answer the incoming call on your dash. 

“I’m all ears, Master Plo,” You said as he materialised in front of you. He was speaking but you couldn’t make out anything from the warbled panic coming through the holo. Pinching your face in concern, you tried to reestablish the connection, “Master?”

Your ship was hit by a rogue bolt from one of the clones behind you and you veered to the side. 

“My padawan…” He began “I am afraid we have been turned against. I am afraid to say that both our Jedi order and the republic are falling… You must leave-”

Another hit. This time to one of your engines. Your ship went spiralling out of control, the alarms blaring loudly as it plummeted towards one of the buildings. Grunting, you pulled it up, “Master!” You could see him now, a trail of smoke pluming from the back of his ship, you raced towards him.  

“You must listen, my padawan!” Plo Koon broke through the coms, desperate to reach you, “You must leave!” you watched as he struggled to keep his ship in the air. You watched the killing blow was delivered, his ship nose diving downwards.  

“May the Force be with you, my padawan, always and forever,”

“MASTER!” you cried out, but were cut off by a deadly blow of your own, your starship rapidly descending to join your master’s. For a moment, there was just nothing. Just numbness. But that soon faded and you were encased with a searing pain and a high pitched ringing in your ears. Then soft hands, panicked green eyes and dark hair and finally; darkness. 

***

Curiously, you watched as Cal picked up Cere’s hallikset. It was old and round but nevertheless a pretty instrument. You had heard it played many times during your time on The Mantis. His fingers brushed effortlessly as he played, his face contorted with concentration as you hummed softly to the familiar tune. When he finished, Cere spoke up from her place at the top of the stairs. 

“That song… I wrote it. Years ago…”

Sudden realisation crossed you “You touch and witness the events connected to it. You feel its history.”

Cal placed the instrument back down “It’s an echo in the force from the object,” 

“Not many Jedi have that skill,” Cere sat down between the both of you on the sofa. She was right.

“How do you know that? Did they tell you?”

“I was once a Jedi. But not anymore.”

Cal seemed to study her closer, taking everything in . Cere was a great jedi and you longed to see her in action again, yet you knew she had her own reasons for cutting herself off from the force, much like you had your own. 

“Do I know you?” He finally asked.

“No, but I knew your master, Jaro Tapal,” Cere shook her head as she took your hand in her own “And theirs once, too. They were true guardians of the Republic.”

“He was a hero…Listen…” He took a breath, unsure how to word what he was about to confess, “Something happened to me during the purge. I survived…but my connection to the force was damaged. When I meditate, if I let my guard down. I lose control. It’s like I’m back in that moment when-”

“You survived, Cal.”

There was a long pause. 

“And you’re not alone. Not anymore,” You told him, “I struggle a similar way you do. My connection with the force…everything seems so… out of place. Uncontrollable. Overwhelming almost. But we can work through this, together,”

Greez’s voice broke through in crackles over the intercom “We’re coming up on our destination,”

You headed towards the cockpit as you left hyperspace, landing on the grassy planet of Bogano. As Cere and Cal exited The Mantis, you followed closely behind them, revelling at the temple that stood before you. It was tall and ornate, overgrown with time . It reminded you of one of the Jedi temples. You had heard many stories about it from Cere, however this was your first time seeing it in person. There was something different about the atmosphere on the planet too. Something you couldn’t quite place no matter how hard you tried to. 

Cere smiled “This is Bogano. A Jedi I knew discovered it before the purge. You won’t find it on any maps.”

“The Empire doesn’t know this place exists?”

“No.”

“So what’s the plan? Hide out here?”

“No. We’re done hiding,” You told him. 

“You see that structure over there?” Cere points to the temple, “I believe that Vault holds the key to rebuilding the Jedi Order. But it requires two people who are strong in the force to pass its tests,”

“And since you’re not a Jedi anymore, that’s why you both need me,”

You nodded as she continued, “I know you don’t trust us, and we’re not really sure if we trust you. But we have a common enemy. And a common cause. I’ll share more of our plan when we reach the vault. But until then, there's someone here I think you should meet,” She turned and began to walk back into the ship before calling, “May the Force be with you,”

“I guess we’re looking for another Jedi then…” Cal turned to you, “But if there’s one already here, then why does Cere need me?”

“Cere works in mysterious ways. Ones that I still don’t understand. I have just learnt to trust her as you should,” You began to walk towards the vault, but Cal remained still,” Well? Are you coming?”

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@spidezer @the-navistar-carol

#star wars fanfiction #star wars x reader #Star Wars #fallen order #jedi fallen order #cal kestis #greez dritus #cere junda #gender neutral reader #writing #fallen order x reader

[kobbers]

Just casually playing with some AU stuff here... a little justice for my boy Varl. Inspired by some spitballing on the Discord a while ago.

****

Aloy didn’t realize how hard she was gripping the table until one of her knuckles audibly popped. “Take me to him,” she growled, blood suddenly roaring in her ears.

Tilda blinked, taken aback. “Hm? ...Now? There’ll be plenty of time after breakfast. You haven’t eaten in at least a day, after all.”

Fine porcelain dishes rattled as Aloy surged to her feet, eyes blazing. “This whole time I thought Varl was dead, you knew that, and only just now you think to mention it? I need to see him.”

While Tilda maintained eye contact and her composure barely rippled, there was a ripple. Just a moment of hesitation, the slightest narrowing of the eyes. Something about that response had rubbed her the wrong way. But the next moment she was chuckling softly, if humorlessly. “Ah… a lover, then?”

This set Aloy completely off balance, but the moment of confusion only fueled her annoyance. “What? He’s… have you ever even had a friend? Am I only allowed to care if a lover lives or dies?”

The Zenith woman also rose to her full height, eyes locked on Aloy’s, expression inscrutable. Then she allowed a smile to slip through her cool, smooth exterior. “I must… apologize, Aloy,” she began. “It has been quite a long time since death was a concern for me, and I didn’t account for the fact that you would still be very preoccupied with it. I... hoped to save introductions as a little treat after we chatted, but now realize that was insensitive. Please, come with me.��

And then she was gliding away, toward the stairs Aloy had ascended minutes before. Her delicate footsteps were closely trailed by the urgent stomping of Aloy’s boots. They passed back through the art vault, Tilda throwing a lingering glance over her shoulder at the Vermeer and its counterpart, and continued into the bunker.

Aloy had, of course, inspected all possible routes when she left her recovery room, and found most of these doors to be locked. In fact, nearly all of them had seemed completely dead with no working status indicators. And yet, when Tilda stopped in front of one and raised her hand, it obediently slid open. All of Aloy’s self-control was required not to shove her aside as she maintained her sedate pace through the door.

The room was dimly lit, much like the one she had awakened in. This bunk, however, was bridged by a delicate-looking white and gold tube that sparkled with holographic readouts. From underneath protruded a pair of bloodied leather boots. Tilda stepped toward the opposite wall, allowing Aloy a clear path to the bedside. As she drew near enough to see over the strange piece of equipment, his ashen face finally came into view.

“Varl,” Aloy gasped reflexively.

He looked absolutely terrible; for a moment panic flared within her that this was just his body, that he was dead after all. She leaned close, her fingers darting to his throat, and for a few infinite moments, she waited. Then… she found it. His pulse was weak, but it was there. A puff of breath from his lopsidedly agape mouth barely stirred her hair.

He was, in fact, alive.

Her vision blurred and she sagged against the side of the bed. Something inside was crumbling alarmingly under the sheer weight of her relief, and her own breath started to come out in ragged sobs.

Then Aloy felt Tilda’s hand in the center of her back, sliding smoothly over to rest on one shoulder. She went rigid, suddenly aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks.

Tilda, for her part, immediately noticed the reaction and pulled back. “Apologies, I realize it’s... difficult. Compared to what you’re used to, our medical tech must seem somewhat miraculous. Even so, the field nanites barely kept enough blood in him until I could get this trauma unit set up. I think I can keep the scarring to a minimum though, given enough time.”

Aloy kept her face averted as she desperately blinked to clear her eyes. “Your tech… is this going to make him an immortal too?”

“Of course not,” Tilda replied, a tinge of amusement in her voice. “That requires much more specialized equipment, and I’d obviously never start treatments without anyone’s consent. Infinite time can be a blessing, but it’s also a burden. A decision that must be made with a clear and intelligent mind.”

Aloy thought she detected a hint of significance in that last sentence, as if there was a joke for which she was out of the loop, but she decided not to prod at it. Instead she squinted through sodden eyelashes under the arch of the “trauma unit,” striving for a glimpse of the otherwise mortal wound that her friend had received.

Varl’s hide jerkin had been removed, and Aloy fleetingly wondered whether Tilda had dirtied her hands with it herself, or if the nanites had simply eaten it off. Where the stab wound ought to have been was a broad, smooth patch of… gold? Aloy blinked hard a few more times, making sure her eyes weren’t deceiving her. In the low light she could just make out the luster of the material, trailing off into strange geometric patterns where the edges met skin. An image flashed into her mind - the odd pools of spilled gold she had found in the aftermath of skirmishes with the Specter machines. Similar tech, possibly more nanites… but designed to fix people, perhaps?

“Are you familiar with nanites?” Tilda asked, breaking the silence once again.

“I… I know they’re little robots that can do tasks, like a swarm of bees,” Aloy said. “Though I don’t know anything deeper than that.”

Tilda laughed, and this time there was genuine mirth in the sound. “To be honest, my technical knowledge doesn’t go very deep either. All I know is the many ways they can be used, and with that… well, endless possibilities open up.”

Aloy was getting tired of these vague statements, which kept raising more questions than they answered. She wiped her eyes hurriedly on her sleeve before drawing herself up and turning back to the Zenith, squaring her shoulders. “So. How long before he’s healed enough to move?”

“When he’s ready.” Tilda, meanwhile, was getting tired of Aloy cutting through the conversation she was trying to weave, always driving back to less interesting issues that were already well under control. It reminded her a little of... well.  “We’ll have a reasonable prediction in a few hours, I think - once the nanites have finished surveying the full extent of the damage and testing the host’s natural healing rate. Now, will you please come back up to breakfast? I’ll probably have to brew some fresh tea as it is.”

Brows furrowed, Aloy looked back at her unconscious companion. When she had awakened less than an hour before, Aloy was convinced that she’d been torn away from one of her closest friends, left to bleed out on the floor of Cauldron GEMINI. Now that she had him back in her sight, utterly helpless, she was even more hesitant to turn her back. Maybe the tiny spark of life that had been preserved would go out, if it wasn’t carefully watched.

Her more practical side knew that would serve no real purpose. For better or worse, Varl’s fate now rested entirely with Tilda and her Zenith tech. And though the woman had thus far maintained a perfectly calm and affable demeanor, Aloy’s instincts were on high alert, hissing danger warnings. Too many questions, not enough answers. The only viable option was continued, careful observation of this new player on the board.

“Fine,” Aloy relented. “I’ll take that breakfast. Let’s chat.”

#Beyond the Horizon #horizon forbidden west #hfw spoilers #kobb writing #I reject your canon and substitute my own #au: in her charge