#he just Is A Hero and the complexity is that he USED to be a bully. while i prefer BOTH of those things to be much much greyer

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

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Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

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Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

[Graphic description of gore] 🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼 Chapter 3 "The Vault"

The flickering ceiling lamps only exacerbated the grim atmosphere, but they did slightly help with finding your way. They also hid the majority of the massacre, but you weren’t blind to the horrific scenes of vault dwellers strewn up and skinned and prepared for processing. You’d wretched and convulsed at the sight, clutching at the wall for support and fighting back tears of terror, and if it hadn’t been for your empty stomach you would have most likely thrown up all over the ghoul’s boots. There was so much food around and the raiders still chose their twisted ways and treated the corpses of their victims, human beings, as cattle in need of rationing and preparation. It was engraved in them, you guessed, after living so long in an apocalyptic, hellish world, eating people was as natural to them as breathing. You tried to justify their actions even if they made no sense, but after seeing cut-open bellies and spilled intestines and dribbling blood as the corpses were hung to drain, you couldn’t.

No matter how difficult a life, nothing could pardon such barbaric actions, not when the cans of cram and sacks of tatoes were right there. The raiders didn’t kill and butcher out of need, they did it out of pleasure, they drew with blood on the walls, bludgeoned flesh and bone to a pulp, stripped skin bare, and let bodies dangle like slaughtered pigs.

The more gore was presented to you on a rusty platter, the smaller your pool of empathy became until there was nothing but the screaming aftermath of gunshots sounding right above your head. You still jittered, but didn’t flinch anymore, he had you, you were safe with him. His boots echoed with menace through the corridors, beckoning the raiders to their end, while your delicate bare feet glided over grime and glass and chaos.

He used you as bait once the raiders were close enough to spot you, your history with them causing a sudden urge in them to let go of their logic and self-preservation and charge headfirst into a shotgun barrel. You would have minded, but he was death incarnate with a weapon, and you were so set on restoring the sanctity of your vault, your home, that you were ready to do just about anything. He killed until there was nobody else with a heartbeat except you and him. He killed so casually, that you almost believed it to be normal.

Once his end of the bargain was done, you started searching, straining both mind and vision for that particular room with a false bookcase. You guided him past the vegetable field, through the cafeteria, and rushed past the school because there were too many bodies piled up for you to stomach. He followed with minor protests, but mostly kept quiet and alert, acting as a guard hound while you pursued the location of the emergency storage. It was only when you ended up in the residential wing with a confused noise that he spoke up.

“You’re lost, darlin’, admit it.”

You shot him an angsty look over your shoulder, arm outstretched in front of you as the white flashlight installed in the Pip-boy illuminated the vault hallway. When you enter the first home, just the structure of it is enough to tell that you’ve got the wrong place, you scowl, but trudge further inside anyway.

“I’m not lost.” you retort, refusing to let his remarks leave a stain on your photographic memory, and pace around the tiny complex. “It should be in this wing, I just need to find the right room.”

“Whatever you say…” he hums in mock and purses his lips, then opens the metal door wider before stepping in after you. He lets you explore, his eyes skimming with disinterest over the homey aesthetic he was so alienated from that it didn’t even ring a bell of nostalgia. His sights lock on the fridge and his feet react faster than he’d thought possible. Bingo.

The self-powered beacons perched over the whey field creep through the windows and it’s enough light to scarcely brighten the complex. It would have been a haunting sight if the ghoul wasn’t with you and a timid part of your consciousness tapped at you, reminding you that he wasn’t going to be present for much longer. You hadn’t planned on dwelling on such a thought for long, but you had no clue what to do once he was gone. Left alone to fend for your life with no skills or experience aside from dry theory accumulated from years of reading, there wasn’t much you could do except live off the remnants of the vault and try to keep the garden alive.

How would you be rid of all the corpses though?

It would take years to restore everything, or at least the parts that were salvageable, you’d never be able to swap the broken windows or replace the shattered light bulbs.

You scurried off the nasty reality of your future and proceeded to kneel in front of a shoe cabinet. Your feet were irritably sore and in desperate need of protection so you sunk your arms to the elbows in the darkness, the flashlight distorting under the pile of slippers and sandals.

“You’re not mad, mister?” you ask and turn back to find the ghoul waist-deep in the refrigerator, rummaging as a cacophony of clinking bottles and stuttering plates soundtrack his rampage. He looked almost domestic and you had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “Cuz I haven’t found the storage yet?”

He resurfaces at your question, a bowl of mashed tatoes and a platter of grilled cram cradled in his embrace, traces of soy milk stained his lips. He wiped his mouth on his shoulder and tossed the food on the kitchen counter before resting on his elbows while flicking his tongue.

“Plenty of Pip-boys layin’ around.” he shrugs simply and rips his glove off before sticking two thick fingers in the tatoes. “Can make a small fortune outta those.” he offers you a toothy grin before licking his fingers clean.

“Please use a fork, sir.” you grimace at his tasteless display before turning back to your task at hand.

“Mind your business, smooth-skin.” he grunts and sinks his teeth in a thick slice of cram, scarfing it down as if he’d not eaten in days. He scoffs at your faint giggle and waves you off, too high on the idea of a proper meal to care for your coquettish snip.

You continue to dig through the assortment of old shoes, relishing his vocal satisfaction as he feasts. He chews hastily, taking breaks every few bites to wash down the food with whatever juice or milk he blindly pawed at on the fridge door. After tossing away a pair of white fluffy slippers and jamming your hand against a leathery surface, you pull out a left-footed cargo boot. It’s stuck, tied by the laces to something crammed deeper in the cabinet and you feel your way until you find its twin. Once freed, you look them over with a tilted chin and a contemplative look.

They seemed remotely your size, with a pair of thick socks they’d probably fit perfectly and they were preserved and sturdy enough to withstand some broken glass.

“You think they’ll miss these?” you raise the boots in display and ask before thinking about how stupid your question was.

The boiled corn cob pauses just shy of his parted lips and he stares at you like you’d grown a second head. The silence that befalls is one of realization with a twinge of melancholy and you avert your eyes as your mouth twitches into a small frown. The shoes are lowered to your chest and you hold them close in wordless mourning, face dimming, shoulders lowering.

“Oh right…frick.”

“They’re dead, sweetheart.” he speaks softly, a hint of pity hidden beneath the layer of rasp. “Don’t think they’ll miss anythin’ anymore.”

In truth, you didn’t mourn the rest of the vault dwellers. They were strangers who’d shared the same living facility as you, there was no attachment there except for baseline human empathy. What you grieved over was your sanity, the solitude you’d be subjugated to and you’d grown accustomed to being alone, but after knowing the atrocities that had occurred and the reasoning for your lonesome existence, you doubted things would go well. You’d be forced to fend for yourself and there was no guarantee that another wave of intruders wouldn’t end up on your doorstep.

You picked at the soles of the boots absentmindedly, ignorant to the sympathetic stare targeting the back of your head.

You weren’t accustomed to caring for your needs, having been coercively babied all your life and lacking basic skills. The only bond you’d ever had was with your father and the knowledge that you’d eventually stumble upon his corpse riddled you in goosebumps. You dreaded that sight, eyes dampening at just the thought and mind failing to even picture such a sickening image.

You drag an arm over your drippy nose, sniffle and stand.

“Need socks.” was all you managed before hurrying to the bedside closet at the other end of the complex, hiding behind a wall and out of the ghoul’s prying gaze.

This was fine. You’d figure it out as you went. There was no point in worrying over things that haven’t happened yet, right?

You shone your flashlight into the closet's depths after flinging it open, searching for a ball of stretchy material, anything that remotely resembled a pair of socks. Shuffling came from the kitchen area, a throaty grunt, a few clanks, and the shattering of porcelain. Paying no mind to the ghoul’s ruckus, you sift through the clothing hangers, stopping only when an intricate floral pattern catches your eye. You tug at the cloth, pulling it off the bar and hooking a finger around the clothing hanger before straightening it out.

A dress, pretty and frilly at the bottom, littered with small hand-sewn red blooms, sparkling white and in pristine condition. It reminisced of better times when people reigned over a peaceful and bountiful land, when radiation existed only in the confines of nuclear factories and cannibalism was scarce and very taboo. Your dull expression softens with a doting smile as you coo over your new fit before tossing it on the bed.

Your search continues shortly after, rummaging and scanning, digging deeper until you find a small raft overflowing with undergarments. A pair of black tights and heavy woolen socks later, you pass an anxious glance at the edge of the wall separating you from your overly grumpy bodyguard before tugging the straps of your dress off your shoulders.

“What the hell are you doing in there!?”

“I’m changing!” you rush to answer, shimmying out of your dirty, torn attire before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling the socks over your feet. After taking note of the now gooey gash on your ankle, you decide to postpone wearing tights until it’s been cleaned and bandaged. You swallow back a lump of anxiety and make disinfecting the wound your top priority…once you find the storage unit that is.

“Hurry up!”

Once the boots were secured, you neatly tied them up and scurried to slip on the new dress in case the ghoul decided he’d had enough of waiting and barged over in his typical unruly fashion. It fit you so well, but there was no time to enjoy yourself, you tossed the tights over the junction of your elbow and patted down the frilly edges grazing your knees.

The world came crashing when the zipper got stuck.

“Freaking fiddle sticks…”

You tried and failed to resolve the dilemma, patting blindly at your upper back, reaching over your shoulder, and coiling an arm behind your waist. Even when your fingers did manage to find the zipper again, it was jammed and no amount of vigorous tugging helped and you didn’t want to apply more force lest you cause a tear. A small whine, dainty and annoyed, bubbled in your throat and you hung your head back and stared up at the ceiling in despair. This had to be some sort of cruel joke, a jut at you for daring to find a sliver of happiness.

“Uh…mister?” you call out, weak with embarrassment as you slowly succumb to the walk of shame. You round the corner slowly, apprehension in every step and boring a shameful visage. “I need help…please.”

Your lovely bounty hunter had sprawled out on the counter, his hands resting on his now full belly, one perched up knee swaying nonchalantly as his other leg kicked dangled leisurely in the air. His hat rested over his face, obscuring his vision as he breathed slowly, in utter bliss for the first time in a long while. The shotgun once secured on his back was tucked under his neck. The empty plates were carelessly chucked to the floor when he’d made room to lie down and now you knew what all that ruckus had been caused by.

It would have been quite the heartwarming sight if you weren’t currently wallowing in self-pity.

He rouses at your beckon, sitting up and readjusting his hat and giving you his best acid scowl for disrupting his peace. Then he notices your pained expression and skittish shifting and quirks a nonexistent brow.

“The hell’d you do?”

Ah yes, the sardonic question a parent would ask their misbehaved child after yet another minor disaster. That’s exactly what you need at the moment.

“I – ” your teeth grit, jaw tightening in discomfort. A sad puppy-eyed stare plastered on your droopy features as you stand next to the counter before reluctantly turning around and brushing your hair out of the way to expose your back. “ – It’s stuck…”

A snort of laughter fills the dim complex and you shrink in utter humiliation, fussing at his reaction like the wimpy thing you’ve been demoted to. He turns in his spot and his knees encase your frame as he slopes closer.

“Can’t even dress right.” his berating smirk nips at the back of your neck and earns a sigh of defeat.

Cooper Howard wasn’t a man to regret many things and he’d done enough awful deeds to have him kicked out of a church if he ever dared set foot in one. Not putting his glove back on, however, would be one of those regrets. When his disfigured fingers dipped beneath the hem of your dress to hold it steady as he worked the zipper free, he brushed against your skin and it was so soft that he nearly missed the feeling altogether. A pang of something awfully warm wrapped around his ribcage like a vine and he was so shaken to the core that he forgot he needed to breathe.

You felt like the past, all lovely and nice and tender, as if ripped from a time he struggled to recollect and let go of both, and you were thrust in his hands and he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with you. All charming smiles and sugary words and naivety that had him torn between hatred and incessant thirst for more of whatever it was you did to him. So addictive yet so detrimental.

He chalked it up to lust, a guttural craving any normal man would feel when presented with a cute little thing like you. But it wasn’t that at all. It had nothing to do with any carnal human craving.

You were a gateway to what he used to have, a walking memory of who he used to be.

It made sense if your story was true. Being tended to all your life while locked in a lab orchestrated to be your private room, it would leave anyone silk-skinned, bright-minded, and burden-free. But that didn’t ease him, it didn’t falter him from feeling like he was drowning.

You were the even tune of midnight jazz, a slice of hot apple pie, and a fresh cup of Joe on a Sunday afternoon; a little piece of heaven he’d never asked for and a cruel incarnation of damnation he’d always feared would catch up to him.

“Is it fixed?” you peep, saving him from the jaws of his mind, and look back, happily unaware of his self-destructive internal dialogue. The darkness hides the strain hovering over his distant gaze. “Did you manage?”

“ ‘Course I did.” he barks and is back to normal in an instant, pulling the zipper up before letting you go. “Done.”

He makes sure to secure his glove back on and cusses out the invasive thoughts.

“Thank you so much!” you grin with glee and throttle away like a victorious toddler. “How do I look?” you twirl with pizazz, then remember the tights dangling off your arm and bunch them up in one hand in case they took away from your dashing performance. “Don’t mind those.”

The ghoul scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief at how stupidly charming you are, and slides from the counter before reaching for his shotgun. You take his reaction as a good sign, satisfied with your new, clean look, and brush down the dress with the back of your hand.

“Les go.” he clicks his tongue at you, motioning with his head before fiddling to load his weapon. “Can gawk at yourself plenty when I’m gone.”

His remark receives no pushback. You follow suit, back into the benevolent corridor with hanging dead lamps, stepping carefully next to him with Pip-boy pointed straight ahead. It felt good to not have to constantly worry over a stray piece of debris catching on your feet anymore. Now your footsteps sang in tandem with your bounty hunter’s albeit much lighter and more frequent. With eyes darting from wall to wall, you peeked into each adjacent living complex. The sting in your ankle continued, snapping at your every move and your grip on the tights hardened. Your nails sank into the material for purchase as impatience nibbled at your nerves.

Apartment after apartment. Nothing even remotely resembled the room you were looking for, but it had to be here somewhere. The vault plans didn’t lie and neither did your memory.

You nearly tripped over a stray cable while ogling a bright pink suite layered with fuzzy rugs.

“You sure you ain’t just sendin’ us on a wild goose chase?” the ghoul asks while cracking open another steel door for you to inspect, then dips his hat and lilts “Ain’t gonna shoot you, sweetheart. Don’t need to lie anymore.”

“I wasn’t lying, mister.” you look up at him with hurt and he keens, blinking slowly at you and deciding to leave it at that.

Whether it was due to exhaustion or that look, he wasn’t sure.

If you were this set on proving to him there was a storage full of medical supplies and provisions he wasn’t going to stop you. There was plenty of food and drink to stay a while and his current bounty wasn’t notorious enough to top a fresh bed and a full meal. The caps weren’t worth it compared to what you’d offered him and he had enough vials to last him a while before any feral symptoms started poking through.

“It’s somewhere here, I know it is, these are just the wrong rooms. But the map showed it was in the living quarters to the north. It has to be a bigger space and with a bookcase in – ”

A hand clasped gently over your mouth, cutting your ramble short.

The ghoul grips your arm and shines the Pip-boy at the end of the hallway, the tense look on his face making your stomach knot. He takes one step forward, leaving you to linger behind him and you would’ve liked to believe it was to protect you, but it was most likely to get you out of the way.

You hear his gloved hold tighten around his shotgun and bite back the need to ask him what he’d picked up that you hadn’t. You never noticed the almost silent steps that had slowly crept closer and yelped when you were roughly tossed behind him as he spun around. The shot nearly left you deaf and the bloodied kukri barely missed your shoulder, having been a hair away from the strap of your dress.

You shriek along with the gargled gasp, latching onto the bounty hunter’s coat. The loud thump that followed made you duck and wrinkle your nose.

“Oh my jeez. Oh my God!” you glimpse from behind him reluctantly, forcing your tightly shut eyes open.

The raider twitched, clutching his blown-to-bits shoulder as a puddle of blood formed beneath him. He choked for air, coughing out a storm of crimson and it made your knees weak. The smell of gunpowder was sharp and overwhelming and your head spun with a nauseating speed.

“Guess I missed one.” the bounty hunter leers and the absolute insouciance at his actions sent a chill up your spine. He unclasps the hunting knife strapped to his belt and twirls it between his fingers, then tosses you a warning glance. “Look away, sweetheart. Ain’t wastin’ another bullet on this shit.”

The heels of his boots clinked closer to the raider convulsing on the floor and with a shaky sniffle, you forced your legs to move. The pleas of a desperate man rendered defenseless and feeble, the churring taunts of his merciless killer who squatted over his prey with blade readied. A sickening noise punched you right in the gut, so raw and revolting that you covered your ears the moment you stumbled into another suite and slid down behind the front door. Clutching at the sides of your head, fingers curled and nails delved into your scalp to ground you, you died a little inside.

The reality of your existence, the consequences for being alive hit you full force, ripping you out of the tranquility that had befallen both you and the ghoul. Peace never lasted, and neither did joy, not in a world bathed in chaos and destruction.

The two curt knocks on the door made you flinch.

“Come on out, scaredy cat.”

“I’ll – ” with a twisted tongue and a clenched throat, you murmur out words to keep him away because you didn’t want to see the blood he was wiping off his knife. “ – I’ll be right there. Just looking…for a false latch or something.”

What a horrible excuse…but he didn’t question it and you were so thankful.

His steps crinkle over broken glass and pieces of discarded metal plates. The tension lifts off your shoulders when he leaves with a grunt. You rub at your face with a timid breath, jaw easing as your lips part to accommodate your forceful inhales. The gloom of the apartment embraced you in your self-indulgent grovel.

To imagine someone lived here only a day ago was to concede to hysteria.

He saved your life again. And still, you were left shaken and bothered and speechless and burdened by what would have happened if he hadn’t been there to rip you away from death’s claws. The possibility of there being more raiders skulking about hadn’t been a thing until this one nearly chopped your arm off. Your arm was still there though, intact and function. All because of him. A dilapidated, volatile guardian angel that looked like a grilled chicken and sounded like a fizzled-out radio station and he meant more to you than anything ever had in your short, secluded life. What were you supposed to do without him when he finally left and you were sealed into a blood-soaked, corpse-ridden underground bunker with just your thoughts as company?

You slapped at your puffed-out cheeks ferociously.

This was fine.

It wasn’t fine, but there was nothing to be done, you’d work with what you had, you’d manage somehow. You had to.

The ghoul whistled you over, loud and clear enough for you to hear even while tucked away safely in your corner. Enough spiraling. You stood and with a determined huff, exited the complex only to see him standing in front of an open door with crossed arms and a tilted head. He noticed you from the corner of his eye and nudged his chin.

“This it?”

You poke your nose inside the spacious room.

It was the vault president’s office, completely untouched and eerily still, made to resemble the quarters of high-ranking officials from the olden days. Thin sheets of wood were plastered over the walls and the floor was carpeted and clean, the large windows overlooked the fields and dining area. An elegant leather chair was neatly set behind the paper-ridden desk in the center of the room, and yellowing files peak from every single drawer and bookcase. Everything seemed organized in spotless order, even the mugs on the coffee table were arranged corresponding to their color. There were so many paintings strewn about, past vault presidents, men and women in distinct white coats, same as the one your dad had always worn, supposedly scientists.

He leaned against the doorframe as you barged inside, watching your newfound zeal with a half-smile.

You pressed the tip of your middle finger to the wall and slowly extended your other arm at a precise angle, then moved it barely to the left. With a calculative spark imbued in your eyes, you take deliberate steps and move your stiff arms mechanically as you work out the location of the hidden storage. It looked ridiculous and you were well aware as you maneuvered about like a possessed puppet, but without any tools to point the way this was your only crutch.

“Three feet to the left, diagonal to the glass case with the cat sculpture. One step back and turn to what should be west. North should be to the right, then. And…”

“There.” you state once your hand points at a particularly overdecorated bookcase. “That’s it. Has to be.” you step towards it with determination, throwing away documents and an old plastic globe until there was enough space to grab at the shelves. It creaks when you give it a solid tug to test its stability. You bite your lip in contemplation before turning back to the ghoul. “Think you can move this, mister?”

“You better be right, sweetheart.” he tutted, but complied, pushing himself off the doorframe before joining you. He towers over you and rests his hands against the polished wood. “Move.”

You did as told and gave him some room.

He managed to slide his fingers against the back of the bookcase and spread out his legs before letting go of a throaty groan and pulling with all his strength. Your knee jittered with the need to step in and help, but you hesitated, succumbing to your manners and letting him do the heavy lifting. The last thing you wanted was to insult his capabilities or hurt his man-pride.

The case toppled with a thunderous crash and its contents spilled over the carpet, some trinkets bounced off your boot and rolled under the desk. The wooden planks that had been hidden behind it were slightly caved in compared to the rest. A thick carving resembling a door was engraved in them along with a small rectangular shape just a few inches to the side.

This was it.

“Hallelujah.” he chuckles and kneads his shoulder while flexing it, brows raised and eyes settled on the hidden entrance and glistening with wonder. “Guess you weren’t lyin’ after all.”

You clumsily step over the mountain of books and smashed wood, arms extended for balance until you’re close enough to press down on the rectangle. With a whirling hiss, the wood slides to the side and a hole perfectly shaped like a Pip-boy appears. You stuck your hand in without a second thought, beyond impatient and on the verge of crying because your ankle was burning so intensely you wanted to just rip it off.

The door gave way with a few audible clicks and the storage lit up instantly, you guessed the lamps didn’t depend on the vault’s fusion cores, another little trickery to keep this place hidden. The power management engineers would have most likely noticed the excess electricity being used for a room that wasn’t supposed to exist. A smart move and also for nothing, everyone was dead.

The cynic in you cackled.

You were quick to rip your hand free and enter, spotting the hefty array of medical supplies gathered over a metal cart, driven by pain and discomfort and lacking the self-control to keep it a secret any longer.

“Well, I’ll be…” the ghoul gapes at the overflowing storage, pleasantly surprised and nodding to himself. “Consider your debt repaid, missy.” he plunges his knife into a sack of tatoes and promptly empties it.

His arm swipes over a metal shelf of stimpaks, greedily bunching them up and into the sack as he licks his teeth at the upcoming profit.

When you don’t reply to his remark he finally takes his gaze off the mounds of supplies and medicine and looks to you.

You’re a mussing mess, abrupt jitters causing bottles of pills and packages of bandages to pile at your feet as you scour for something specific. Initially, he opts to leave you be and focus on his own task, but when a disheartened noise slips past you he caves.

“The hell’s got you scramblin’ about like a cornered rat?”

You wince and turn back with a trembling frown. Your search had come out fruitless, the plan was spoiled at the absence of any antibiotics and you internally cursed for not stopping by the med-bay earlier and checking there first. Then again, you needed a key card and you weren’t fond of checking the pockets of decapitated vault residents just for that. But your open wound didn’t care for your antics. Now your ankle was probably red, still oozing and by how it rubbed against your sock, it was even more irritated and sickeningly sticky.

His stern look was relentless and you sucked in a breath before speaking.

“I can’t find any antibiotics…for my ankle.” you swallow a sob like a child caught red-handed trying to sneak past a broken vase. “The cockroaches – One of them bit me or cut me I think and… And it was fine at first, but then it started getting infected and I thought I’d find something here to help, but I don’t think only spirit will help so I thought antibiotics, but I can’t find any and it hurts so bad now – ”

You halted when his jaw stiffed and did nothing when he stomped close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him. The sack was slumped by you and as he glared you simply averted your eyes to the floor.

“Sit.” he commands in a rigid tone, forcing you on your rump as the coldness of the tile floor seeps through your dress. “ ‘N take it off.” the tip of his boot nudges your foot before he tugs his pants up and squats in front of you with elbows resting on his thighs.

It’s only after you slip off your now-ruined sock that he cringes in annoyance and grabs your calf to turn it for a better view. Angry red outlined the open gash and the dead skin that still clung to it was soaked in colorless stickiness. He pressed on the side of the wound, shooting down your attempt at escaping with a scalding look, and more goo was excreted.

Radroaches were clean creatures, he’d seen them grooming themselves more than hunting for food. However, being mutated by radiation did tend to add some spice to their bites and you trudging around barefoot for a good full day had only added to the accelerated decay. Nasty little cut that was.

“Stupid git.” he hisses and stuffs a hand in the sack. “Nothen’ a lil stimpak can’t fix though. And lucky for you, we hit a goldmine.” the large syringe glints under the blaring white lights and he pushes at the base to snuff out any air bubbles before lowering it to your calf. “Now hold still.”

The sight of the needle makes you stiffen, a plethora of memories flashing past your widened eyes, and you’re overtaken by such a raw desire to get away that you nearly kick him off balance in your struggle.

Too many years stuffed full of constant medications and transfusions and scalpels and cuts and taking blood samples and fucking needles. All your life you’d suffered through nothing but medical treatments and the first day spent away from such hell had you realized just how traumatizing it had all been. Obligated to just take it because there was no alternative, you were never given a choice in the matter. You weren’t ready for this again, seeing that stupid needle so close to your skin made your heart drop in your stomach.

“Wait. Mister, wait. Wait!” you grab onto the metal bars of the cart as his grip on your calf tightens painfully.

“Quit fussin’!” he all but growls and pulls you back in place once you’d made some progress in slipping away. His tolerance for your display vaporizes when you land another inadvertent kick to his knee. He lets your calf go and reaches for the back of your head, grabbing onto a fistful of your hair and jostling you still. He’s right in your face and spitting acid. “What the hell’s wrong with you?!”

“The needle.” you hiccup and wrap your sweet little fingers around his forearm. Tears swell in your eyes from both pain and fear and it does something to him again, but he doesn’t relent. “The needle…I can’t – ” you whimper and plead, crumbling in his hold. “Please don’t, mister…”

He’s taken aback. The menace drains from his gaunt features, baring snarl gone, and his grip on your hair loosens.

“You’re kiddin’ me.” his eyes roll from you to the stimpak as if you’d said the most mind-blowing bullshit he’d ever heard. He dangles the wretched thing in front of you, watching you follow it incessantly, not even blinking. “You’re scared o’ this?”

You make a noise of displeasure and avert your face when he brings the stimpak closer. For once his mocking laugh isn’t welcomed. When he’s assured you’re not just being a brat and actually hold a crippling distaste for the needle, the ghoul pulls away with a scoff.

He thinks, rubbing his knuckles against his jaw while you sit between his knees, immobilized by his grip.

“Well shit...” he lets you go and you bonelessly slump back into the cart.

He’s not one for comfort, doesn’t know what words to use to help you overcome your dilemma; he can’t just jam the stimpak in and risk striking a bone, can’t slide it in gently because you’ll go into another fit. He could just leave…

“Look at me.” he beckoned and snapped his fingers at you. When that didn’t work, he grabbed your face and squished your cheeks, forcing you to obey by giving you a sharp jerk. He leans close enough for you to feel his breath hit your nostrils and of course, it smells like cram. “I said look. At. Me.”

Your eyes go from dazed to bulging when you feel the needle press back against your calf. A pathetic ensemble of bleats accompanies your heaving chest and you hold onto his wrist like it’s the only thing keeping you from dying on the spot.

“Shhhh – shhhh – shhh, ‘s okay sweetheart.” he hushes you with peculiar softness, stifling your meek complaints and scolding your eyes back to his own when he sees your attention dart down to your leg. You wince briefly at the prickle and his pinkie and ring finger leave your cheek and settle at the edge of your jaw, pressing down and rubbing ever so lightly. With an even push of his thumb, the syringe is emptied. “There you go…” he gives your cheek a good pat and leans away, resting on his knees. The pack of gauze you’d carelessly tossed away in your rampage was picked up and ripped open. “The good news is, you don’t need no stitches…but how d’ you intend to survive if you can’t even use a stimpak?”

“I’ll…” you smile in pain and it’s so crooked it rivals his. “I’ll figure it out.”

Tag list: @bountydroid @judgementdays-girl

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fallout #x reader #fallout the ghoul #fallout show #the ghoul

[inxamista]

Okay now, imma gonna rant a bunch about x-men 97, Gambit, lazy writing and the culture of "plot twists and shock value" to engage the audience in a show.

So, yeah, spoilers ahead, proceed with caution, etc.

First and foremost: Gambit DID NOT HAVE TO DIE to put Rogue in a spotlight. Actually, this is the whole "Wanda and Vision" story and an actually shitty trope of "the woman who overcomes herself through grief and denial of her love (and, at some degree, her womanhood). Like, it's been done a fucking lot of times already and in each and every new try it just gets stale to me. Now we'll have Rogue grieving and suffering and raging until she overcomes this *bad feelings* and finds her center, sublimating the loss of her one true love. At the top of my head I can tell at least three women heros (and anti-heros) with the same bullcrap background.

Second: Gambit is, and always have been, a fan favorite. Back in the day, he even had his own monthly title with very interesting story arcs. So, killing off *Gambit* has a weight. It has the "WOW! PLOT TWIST!" effect to the show. Like, "oh, game of thrones!" kinda show, "no one is safe" and blah blah blah. Which grants a show buzz, clout and engagement. Look at us: they've killed Gambit two weeks ago and here we are, raging at that, so mission accomplished. Lazy as fuck, but effective, right?

And last, but not least: it's been said by the showrruners themselves that "an important character would die in the 5th episode" (just as mentioned before, quod erst demonstrandum and all) but they were debating who this character would be and weighing their options. And - oh, snap! - they've decided to kill off the Thief Cajun with a no-so-family-friendly backstory. You know, Disney being Disney.

So, yeah. I was stoked to see the X-men again, back in their old glory from my early days and all, but then again, this one show don't seem to me to make those beloved characters of old me justice. It's the times we live in, perhaps.

Gambit is a complex character that goes WAY BEYOND his relationship with Rogue. So is Rogue. But I genuinely think a Disney show won't touch Rogue’s terrorist past, her inner conflicts and debates in a way that will make her real justice. And, about Gambit, they won't even BEGIN to make him justice if being Rogue's love interest and occasional comic relief is all they have in store for him bc his backstory as a thief with shady connections with Sinister and Marauders is off limits.

Maybe he's better off dead on that.

#x men #x men 97 #gambit #remy lebeau #disney being disney #have to keep the show family friendly and safe for kids right #thieving cajuns dont stand for that #I'm gonna go back to my comics and fics now #spoilers #x men 98 spoilers

[skyloftian-nutcase]

TotK DLC idea!

The screen is black. You don’t hear anything for a long time. Then, faintly, in the distance, you can hear it.

Link. Link. Open your eyes.

While the line echoes familiarity, the voice does not.

Or. Well. It does. Because while it isn’t Zelda, it’s a familiar man’s voice speaking gently, so gently you almost don’t recognize it because there’s no way he ever spoke like this in the main game.

But he is now. And instead of a golden light being the first image you see before the screen shows Link awakening… you see gloom floating in the air. The image cuts to a Hylian waking up who… doesn’t look like Link from TotK?? He’s different, still small in stature, with slightly tanner skin, platinum light blonde hair, and red eyes. But… something’s wrong with his forehead. There’s a weird line on it.

This new character you apparently are gonna be playing in the DLC blearily blinks his eyes open, clearly groggy and too weak to really move. But then that line on his forehead moves a hair, it splits apart, and you realize it’s a freaking eye, red and yellow and it’s like the ones on gloom hands and oh gosh what the hell is it doing on his forehead—

Link realizes something is off and his eyes blow wide, his hands reach for his forehead and he screams in agony and terror, only for someone to scoop him into a hug to soothe him.

And suddenly you realize why that voice was eerily familiar.

It’s Ganondorf. He resurrected you from the era of the Imprisoning War. You, who have a history with him and his family. You, who he wants to protect, who he views as his kid, who he calls a prince and says he’ll keep you safe by controlling your body with his dark magic if he has to.

Welcome to Tears of the Kingdom: Hero’s Shadow.

You have to play a long gone Hero who was resurrected. Ganondorf, who is still recovering his strength in preparation for killing the current Hero, tasks you with finding your betrothed, his daughter, as well as his wife. They’re buried somewhere in the Depths like you were. He wants you to find their burial sites so he can use his secret stone to resurrect them like he did you, and control them as well. Which is doubly bad when you realize his wife was the original Sage of Lightning. He gives you free reign to wander once you go through a tutorial (he tests you to see if you’ve recovered enough strength), because he knows you love wandering and collecting things. Your own personal objective, however, is trying to help Hyrule from the Depths, to break free from Ganondorf’s control, because Link would rather set himself on fire than let Ganondorf resurrect and control the love of his life and his mother-in-law. Your best hope is to find shards of the shattered Master Sword to try and stab the eye on Dark Link’s forehead and break the control Ganondorf has on you. Until you can, though, the monsters are your allies, you can teleport across the Depths by manifesting out of the gloom created by gloom hands (just like what Phantom Ganon does), and the world below is your oyster. If you get too close to sword shards when gloom hands are nearby, Ganondorf can see your attempt and immediately takes control of your body, and no matter what button you press Link just walks back to Ganondorf’s location and stays there until you get a chance to try again.

You start with three hearts, all empty looking like when gloom hurts you, and if you get injured they just shatter. Whenever they all shatter, you respawn at Ganondorf’s location because his gloom hands came and rescued you from dying. The only way you can get more hearts is by collecting poes and offering them to the statues in the Depths. You can communicate with the spirits of soldiers, who may give you combat tips or info about the area. If you gain enough of Ganondorf’s trust, he’ll let you command monsters, and he might even let you wander the Surface (under his supervision) during a blood moon.

You learn of Link’s and Ganondorf’s history through discovering ancient relics/texts that trigger memories. This connection between you and Ganondorf stems back to time before the war, well over ten thousand years ago. Link was engaged to Ganondorf’s daughter, but during the Imprisoning War the family fought against the demon king. Ganondorf did love his family, but he loved power more. Link sacrificed himself, letting himself get mortally wounded to save Rauru from a killing blow. Gan held him as he died, and it allowed Link to both beg him to stop and stab him in the heart with a light shard. The shard didn’t kill him, but it was what Rauru connected with when he hit him in the chest, allowing him to seal Ganondorf away. Ganondorf still wants the world, but his love for his family is still present, though now twisted, so he thinks he can control Link and everyone else with his dark magic in order to keep them safe and in line. Once the threat of the current Hero is eliminated, the world will be his, and his family will be safe. As such, he treats you, Link, the player, like a stubborn child, reeling you in, but does so in a horrific way, torturing Link by controlling him.

You have to break free of this and stop him, and the only hope you have is the distant call of a sword spirit…

#tears of the kingdom #totk #I think it would be pretty neat to play someone who is “allies” with the bad guy #but you still have the objective of stopping evil #But you have to manipulate Ganondorf and work around his watch #So you get to play double agent #And possibly see a more complex Ganondorf #Like the dude is still being evil; he’s using his love for Link as an excuse to control him #He does care about him but he’s expressing it in the worst way #and he wants to do the same to his wife and daughter #So still a bad guy but a far more interesting one #One day you’re on the Surface with him and you see the Light Dragon and you’re not sure who it is #Because Link died before Zelda ate the secret stone #But Link can kind of guess #And Ganondorf almost noticed her so Link has to hug him or say something to get his attention #You have to manipulate Gan as best you can #idk how it would end #Like once you break free what do you do #But the idea tickled my mind so I wanted to write it down #Yes I’m just playing with my Imprisoning War blorbos #no I don’t care #legend of zelda #skye time travels through the queue #hero of shadow

[thatonebipotato]

more of this goober. i am SO inconsistent with and bad at drawing Teekl LMAO

#klarion the witch boy #teekl #more insight on that partial possession thing too #i never explained that. lol #its kinda like the hero firestorm? where the professor he was fused with can talk to him and give him advice and stuff #except its this chaotic entity that tells him to wreak havoc #he did that for a long time until jason was like 'your my friend now. we're having soft tacos later' #and now he has an eternal babysitter #its more complex than that obv but this isnt an in depth explanation lol #also a little bit about what his actual powers are #the ones here are kinda like green lanterns ring. he mostly just uses them to play with teekl :]

[bumpylines]

GanLink same-age AU, or alternatively AU where OoT Link travels back in time (maybe to try and change events, change Ganondorf, so that he doesn't even need to be sealed away in the first place) aka, OoT Link who's addicted to time travel and thinks he can save anyone and everyone.

#OoT link #Loz #Ganlink #ganondorf #Loz AU #hero of time has a huge savior complex! what else is new! lol #tbf he kinda has the power to technically save everyone #but... like... please have fun and relax sometimes 🥺😭 #everyone in OoT has beautiful eyelashes #I'm convinced eyeliner is just a huge trend at the time and it's normal amongst them to use it #my only regret is that Link doesn't look troubled and exhausted enough #but he can be well rested and refreshed 😌 as a treat

[persefoneshalott]

thinking about how they could've ruined madalena's character so many ways in galavant but they didn't < 3

#madalena #galavant #if they had gone through the richard love interest route that'd have been very not interesting and they could've also just made her the #bitch character which would've made me so mad #but they give her backstory! complexity!!! < 3 #I used to be doubtful about the maybe you're not the worst thing ever scene and thought that may be them considering richard x madalena but #later changing their mind (which idk if true) #but now I think it's great bc it has her opening up a bit when he's talking to her as a person and on their own rather than trying to push #any romance #and then she closes back up when he starts doing that again and we see her sad face after 'being forced to be the bad guy' #it's a great way to show pre- kidnapping madalena and show she's not one or the other she's both #anyway #LIKE madalena has trauma the way a traditional male hero would have trauma if that makes any sense

[angelsdean]

Jack: Yeah, he-he wasn't all bad, my dad. Uh, that's what makes our parents loom so large in our heads, I think. They're… a million things to us all at once.

And even after they're long gone, we're stuck with them. Can't help it. They're inside of us. You know, my whole life, I promised myself I'd be nothing like him, but…I ended up just like him.

Kevin: No, Dad. You're way better than him.

Jack: Thank you, my son. And you're gonna be way better than me.

— 5x07, This Is Us

#this is us watch #gonna rb this in a sec to say exactly this but. scenes that could've been dean and jack. scenes that ARE dean and jack. 2 me. #the father son relationships on this show are soo good and rich and they GET the complexity of the dynamic between fathers and sons #and it's the exact same complexity dean has for john. that ability to hold both love and hate for a parent #and neither feeling cancels the other out. they both just. co-exist #and that's what jack (this is us) is getting at here. that your parents can be a million things to you all at once #that you can love them for the good times and hate them for the bad and you'll carry them with you forever #you imagine them to be one way all your life then you grow up and realize oh. they were just a flawed person like anyone else. #or you become a parent and you worry you're becoming like them. and at the same time u realize how hard it is to be a parent #how easy it is to mess up without even trying #and you'll talk to your son about it. and you'll fear you're doing everything wrong #and your son will look at you and say 'no dad. you're way better than him' #and you'll hope that your son turns out to be an even better person #because you just want the best for your kids. #and just. this is a scene dean and jack could've had. another time they go fishing and john comes up #and dean tells him how bad it was sometimes. but how it wasn't all bad. because it wasn't. #and he'll worry he isn't doing things right with jack. and jack will look at him like he's his hero #because he is. because jack loves dean so much. loves the quality time they spend together. it's their love language #and he'll tell him 'no you're way better than your dad' #and dean will do the ol' face pat. like he's done before. like bobby used to do with him. and draw him in for a hug #anyways. i feel fine abt it. #fathers and sons !!!!!!!!!!!!

[zappedbyzabka]

Beauty

#Remake #queue #So so pretty #william zabka #When a guy won’t leave you alone at a bar #I like to picture the last gif as vamp (but like how the flapper girls would say it) scammer Johnny who uses his pretty face and coquettish #flirting to swindle people out of money. and Daniel being the one to ‘ward off’ a guy bothering Johnny at a bar. Johnny realizing it’s #Daniel. and also noticing how wealthy LaRusso got like ‘👀 Hey do you want me to wear my bikini bottoms I call a speedo and lounge around #your pool? Free of charge except the money and twink-dick I want from you :)’ #Then UH OH he falls in love with Daniel and bonds with his kids. #Daniel didn’t even know it was Johnny at first. but he didn’t regret when he realized. #Johnny was just playing up the damsel in distress act because he knows guys like that. especially small ones with hero complexes

[mazojo]

I am so normal about all of us villains and all of our demise I am so normal about it ask me how normal I am about it I am so cool and causal about Alistair and Briony and Hendry and Reid and Gavin and Isobel and Finley and guys I am so normal can you tell I am so normal because I am. Normal I mean.

#guess who finished it 😀😀😀😀😀😀😀 completely normal guys completely normal #I literally have no thoughts left I am so tired emotionally that I’ll just go to sleep and cry about it more tomorrow #I know no one cared but I do and yaLL GO READ IT PLEASE I NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS WITH SOMEONE #I NEED TO TALK ABOUT BRIONY AND HER WHOLE HERO SACRIFICE COMPLEX COMONG FULL CIRCLE #ABOUT FINLEY TRYING TO ACT COOL AND CAUSAL WHEN HE WAS BREAKING #ISOBEL AND REID KISSING AND BEING LITTLE RATS TOGETHER I LOVE LOSERS AND GIRLBOSSES #ABOUT GAVIN AND ALISTAIR LITERALLY BEING THE MOST SOULMATE EVER AND ENEMIES TO LOVERS AND HEALING AND I DONT WANNA FIX YOU ILL LOVE YOU AS #YOU ARE AND GUYS I AM SO NORMAL ABOUT THIS AHAA PLEASE #all of our demise #book #all of us villains #all of us villains spoilers

[merrysithmas]

since carol marcus essentially invents the star trek version of the A Bomb i'm gonna need her to have the type of concerning brilliance that just cannot be confined, be maddening, enviable, conflicted, morally ambiguous, and not entirely ethical send post

#strange new worlds #carol marcus #pls give me unstable carol i beg of you #dont make her another hero make her a complex woman who isnt when it comes down to it ethically sound #i thought the aos version of carol was atrocious (jj's fault) and there's a lot of UNTAPPED motive in carol's genesis project and secrecy #around David #that never got fleshed out in the 80s bc it was the 80s and she was a woman #but gives us a complex female character who challenges jim kirk and pushes the boundaries of the lines he eventually draws for righteousness #snw she doesnt need to be Good to be a good character #dont catch that writerly virus #star trek #jim kirk #i need like the azula of star trek - just as extra and pitiful and enviable #and frightening #but like you wanna shake her and sympathize but then at one point youre like..... wait #youre off the deep end #if they dont make her a little sus it will be extremely unbelievable

[always-a-joyful-note]

How do I explain this? (Spoilers for Enstars Sanctuary story)

Sanctuary is the story of a guy who woke up in a strange world with weird looking monsters and empty streets with a guy who was his former theatre club president. Except the theatre club president (implied to be a bit of a cryptid except this world definitely has no magic) had somehow mentally regressed back to his five-year-old self, which is fine because he's a genius, and now the guy and his former club president have to deal with this strange place together. But the side story is that two of his friends are being shown around what is basically a cult disguised as an amusement park to indoctrinate people into believing they can become idols and apply to work in that industry. And there's also another side story in which the guy's other friend is being harassed by a middle aged man who's kidnapped their goddess, basically, and is also the mastermind behind the overarching plot in the villainous sense. Also, the former theatre club president's new team, specifically that team's leader, is perpetuating the idol cult because he's got a twisted obsession with idols and believes that to farm them is the only way they won't be discouraged by those with exceptional talent and skill.

But in reality, this is just the story of a lonely teenager who could only find a little bit of freedom to express his abandoned child self in a messed up system that another teenager (who is very smart but just doesn't understand human relationships) created because he cares about nothing but in reality cares about everything and perpetuates a cycle of constant destruction to keep his one obsession alive.

But even further than that, Sanctuary and the whole SS ARC is just a story of a bunch of high schoolers/recent high school graduates who want to sing getting tangled up in a very dangerous mafia-esque world and sometimes realizing that they should call the police or some law reinforcement but forgetting to do so every. single. time.

#note stop getting into media that offers such compelling philosophies that you blatantly disagree with challenge i guess? #i could go on a spiel about how eichi saying 'i need to continue this path of destruction for those victims i destroyed in the past'... #...is kind of self-perpetuating that cycle of destruction and teetering on using victim blaming #sort of like that one story i reblogged a while ago about the villain who counted every person they killed... #...and were brutally rebuffed by the hero #but that isnt to say i hate eichi...honestly i cant help but just feel sorry for him #because he obviously isnt as detached and or as smart as he tries to be #but he also is definitely not as in love with idols as he thinks he is rather than hes kind of obsessed with them which causes....problems #same with wataru (and whats with that mysterious old couple that im 90% sure are his foster parents?) #like i know theyre very complex and annoying and mysterious to the other characters #and they are insane. that i will not deny. if they were real id probably not be able to keep up #but as a reader theyre just lonely and definitely acting way cooler than they actually are (same with ibara sorry guys) #enstars #ensemble stars #fandom spamdom #stuff i say #enstars sanctuary spoilers #also i will say this....wataru and eichi deserve each other but also i want to pry them apart because they are NOT HELPING THE OTHER #by the way i say all of this from a point of deep amusement because this is very fun #dont take me too seriously cause im probably wrong or misinterpreting #need my disclaimer tag again but its not showing up so disclaimer these are all just my personal opinions #anyway i stand by my last post in saying the ra*bits members need a break #AND I DEFINITELY STAND BY MY DECLARATION THAT SOME SORT OF LAW REINFORCEMENT SHOULD BE CALLED #like i know that police arent great but there are CRIMES HAPPENING COME ON???? #like take everything ive said on this blog as a complete joke except for that....the amount of times these teenagers have been... #...threatened with death/bodily harm/destruction of their beloved ones is kinda funny when they do it to each other #and kinda concerning when a shady middle aged man im pretty sure isnt going to be *that* bad in the end but fails in talk does it #i have rambled pardon me

[gnarledbite]

What’s your character arc?

hero arc.

well done - you did things right. this may seem like a boring answer, but i promise it isn't. you believe in goodness and you believe in doing good, and through everything, you work to keep that goodness. you have seen so much blood, and your instinct is always to stitch. you grew and fought and won, and i'm glad you did, because someone had to. i'm glad you kept believing in the world you were trying to save. you are far braver than most could ever be.

#Dash Games #OH COMPLEX FEELS ABOUT THIS RESULT #on one hand you could argue that what he does for a living is in direct opposition to a hero arc #and i would agree! #on the other hand? if he wasn't trying in SOME way he wouldn't have dropped his job as a Scourge #killing these thinbloods and caitiffs just because they exist/because of some people's superstitions about the apocalypse? nah #and if this honorable accord path works out he'll have a better handle on his Beast than he used to so he IS working to improve himself #just not in a way that humanity/human based morals would have allowed him to

[oceandiagonale]

I live the idea of Gene being there and her not knowing who he is because Spare is upset with "Generic Protagonist" not "Gene Protagonist" because she doesn't know what a nickname is, or that Protagonist is a weird last name. Or the whole "people change what they wear" thing so she's expecting the original outfit.

Another thing that popped into my head in this scenario is the bio teacher, Jacq, approaching Gene with some concerns about the DeRosa kid. She doesn't seem to have any friends, spends a lot of time alone training her pokemon, and he thinks he overheard her say something about the "arrogance of humanity" to her mon one time. Gene has a lot of experience with evil team types, is this evil team talk? Because it sounds like it might be and he has no idea how to deal with it if she fell in with the wrong crowd. But if it's not the case he doesn't want to make her feel persecuted and even more isolated.

I think gene might keep the scruff after pla too so that definitely won't help with her recognition kfjldksjfsd

#oceandi answers #kriss-watches-stuff #spare protagonist #generic protagonist #others' ocs #so YEAH frankly it's good for jacq #to reach out to someone else who might have thoughts since ms. derosa isn't going to know what's going on thanks to arceus #kids have complex lives and thoughts and unfortunately spare's is a little more complex than others' might be #I hope jacq is a good teacher in-game at least spare will have that going for her ksdhfkjshdf #also like the idea of spare slipping into 'arceus-speak' sometimes (it's just a font I use) and no one understanding her when she does #but even when gene responds to it it doesn't click for her that this is another hero #why would he be?? the teachers said he was an expert in pokemon so of course he would know arceus's language

[tyrannuspitch]

i think. i should read more comics.

#space viking tag #i'm just not particularly interesting in the reincarnation plotline and that's what everyone always recommends so idk where to start #idk. i mean. maybe i shouldn't. i haven't really vibed with any non-mcu stuff i've encountered so far #including aoa which is often regarded as like. the peak of marvel loki. it was good! but it wasn't rlly for me. #i have a soft spot for toa bc it's whimsical and charming and prequelesque but i also have so many complaints #idk. hmmm. #i should probably look for some thor-centric stuff but i also dk if that will do aaanything i'm interested in #bc i *like* him in context with loki and i like going teehee he's not so heroic after all he's actually extremely LIKE LOKI #and i get a strong impression that his appeal in comics is much more straightforward like... they're playing it all straight #he just Is A Hero and the complexity is that he USED to be a bully. while i prefer BOTH of those things to be much much greyer #idk....... #at least when i'm engaging w/ stuff even if it is frustrating it keeps me thinking abt thor which i always on some level enjoy <3 #i've felt so unfocused and untethered since like. november :-: i need my obsession back!! #it's even fun just to like. see their little faces. #comics thor is not rlly my boy but he's the root of my boy so w/e i see him on some like marvel postcard or whatever in a shop #i still get to go teehee it's my little guy :) #but i'm not a merch person at all interestingly enough. if i buy an object i WILL forget it exists within a week #maybe not if it had a practical function? #but i feel like over time that would fade into visual noise too like oh these are just my. oven gloves or whatever. #anyway what was i talking about

[im-not-buying-it-ether]

More Shazamily/Marvel Family headcanons

Billy has a deep seated hatred for the Indiana Jones movies, there is no force on earth that can get him to watch any of the movies the whole way through

Normal magic rules don’t really apply to them in practice, they break and bend the rules a lot without realizing it. It’s one of the many perks of being champions and guardians of eternity, magic just goes with them and what they want to do

Have used spells from fantasy media’s to see if they work in real life; They do work but only for them, so each member of the Shazamily has a trump card in the form of random spells from random kids tv shows but they all use wands when they remember to just incase a spell backfires

Darla copied Star vs the forces of evil’s spells, no Fawcett villain likes admitting that they got beat by a Narwal Blast or a Warnicorn Stampede. Uses her wide array of princess and fairy wands she already has

Eugene, as seen in the first Shazam! movie, copy’s mortal combat moves and phrases. Doesn’t use a wand or a stand in for one much but uses a classic magicians wand from a magic kit he got

Billy binge watched every episode of Ben 10 and made a spread sheet of magical attacks shown in the show with Freddy to copy. Both use “Scribo in incendia” to multitask with homework and “Somus” to fall right asleep after patrol. Freddy uses his foam Wonder Woman sword and Billy just has a stick he picked up one day when he was 9 and hasn’t let go of since

Mary has copied some phrases from Sabrina the Teenage witch with varying levels of success, in part due to her not having full confidence in every attempt she makes. Bought one of those fancy wands with a gemstone at the end of them to cast spells

Pedro took a page out of Harry Potter and started using Latin to come up with his own spells. Uses whatever he has on hand as a wand, be it a pencil or the spork he was eating his lunch with

Billy has an older portable movie player he got as a hand me down gift from a foster sibling and a CD booklet with some kids movies in it that he’s held onto, its how he passed his rare instances of downtime when he was still homeless. Liked borrowing movies from local libraries to watch on it, some of the discs he actually owns are Matilda, the Night at the Museum trilogy, the Iron Giant, Tangled, Atlantis: the Lost Empire, and a CD copy of the second season of The Worlds Greatest Animal Detective; Tawky Tawny.

Freddy spends the first few years of his hero career pretending to be able bodied, constantly using his flight as a mobility aid, but decides later on to utilize a Wizards staff formed in a way to double as a crutch for him.

Followed by pidgins relentlessly. If a pidgin can go there they follow the Marvels everywhere. They’re chill, don’t steal their food or land on them, but they follow them everywhere. They all collectively blame Hermes influence as a patron god of messengers since pidgins are messenger birds (and yes it is the fault of his divine influence on them)

Billy got permission from the Wizard and other greek goddesses to have separate blessings for his sisters (Agility of Selene, Strength of Hippolyta, Stamina of Artemis, Flight of Zephyrus, Invulnerability of Aurora, and the Wisdom of Minerva) for the sole reason of keeping the influence and voices of Billy’s patrons out of their heads and away from them. (Because there’s no way in any form of hell he’s cursing Mary or Darla with Zeus to be in their heads)

They can talk to animals with the omnilinguistics the Wisdom of Solomon gives them, if anyone on the mortal plane can understand the language so can they. This has led to people seeing Captain Marvel coo back and forth with pidgins like they’re having a conversation (they’re talking about favorite snacks) and the one time he interrogated a rat through small squeaks to know which way a group of smugglers went.

Billy is an awesome gift giver, every year when the justice league has their annual white elephant on Dec 20th people pray they get their names drawn by him. He got Wally a bunch of shoes that were enchanted to not wear down from his speeding (dress shoes, running shoes, slippers, flip flops, the works), did some dimension hopping and time traveling to get a box full of Kryptonian books for Clark (including a collection of folklore with English translations so he can read a bedtime story to Jon), and a crud ton of sweets from the Funlands for J’onzz (including a giant Choco’s cookie big enough to sleep on.)

Freddy’s YouTube channel has a lot of videos of the Shazamily testing their powers based on comments, it has 2.3 million followers and the ad revenue they all rake in goes to helping out with the expenses at home and buying a lot of games at a 50/50 split

They are literally the only group of child vigilantes that are home in time for curfew/bed consistently, they’re more daytime heroes. The only exception being Billy when he has to go off world or to another dimension for League/Champion business but he always tells the Vasquez’s about them so they can call him in sick from school

Billy worked out an agreement with Harley Quinn so that him and his siblings could have semi-regular therapy appointments (hero/villain work permitting), she works her degree every other Tuesday and in return she gets Superman style flights whenever she wants and access to magical plant stuff for Ivy. Victor and Rosa worried about their kids mental health with all the responsibility and horrors of hero life but had no idea how to start getting them professional support for it so they’re glad Billy was able to find someone already in that life who could help and isn’t likely to endanger their identities.

#A mix and match of all my favorite Shazam lore #billy being a certified magical girl AND Disney princess with his powers #Darla definitely has that official spell book from SVTFOE it was probably a gift that turned out to be really useful #Eugene strikes more fear into the hearts of their villains than any other Shazamily member #the sheer embarrassment of knowing you got beat with a kamehameha or haduken deals so much psychic damage #Freddy thought about using his cane for magic but doesnt want to risk breaking it with a rouge spell #Billy just went the classic wizard route and magically bonks people with a stick and now hes attached #Mary has either started or joined a witch coven even if its just her and Darla practicing potion making #billy used to like the Disney movie Hercules but having Heracles and Zeus in your head nitpicking the whole thing each time kinda ruined it #Lik yes Heracles we get you actually went mad and killed Meg and this movie make you feel salty but let a kid enjoy zero to hero in peace #let Freddy have some body positivity dc you cowards #CM:(coos at a pidgin while looking for the legion of dooms hideout) #supes:Captain what- #CM:Bailey says they have this apartment complex rented out theyre using in the downtown area. lets go #supes:?????? #///// #shazam #billy batson #dc #dc captain marvel #captain marvel dc #dc comics #shazamily

[gaycodependency]

v glad for this slight wizards of waverly place resurgence cuz i was alone in 2020 when i rewatched and had so many thoughts and feelings.

here to say i love love love justin (and max) and i wish he was written differently in s4 (and perhaps s3) cuz he could be such an ass, like utterly unlikeable levels (looking at u series finale). and it's upsetting to see because he's prob my fav, it felt horrible to watch him act so cruel towards alex. while he can be selfish (all the russos can be) he's had her back consistently. i just think back to S2E30 when he was upset about them losing their powers but he came around, under the assumption that they WILL lose their powers, because he doesn't want to lose alex and max. now i'm sure they wanted the drama and like the tragedy of the russo kids fulfilling the whole 'wizard competition tears families apart' sorta prophecy but i wish they went about it differently so the audience wouldnt turn against justin and max. and i wish there was growth from him like there was for alex

also see lots of ppl saying who they think deserves being the family wizard while i have A few takes on that, i primarily believe that the whole competition is messed up and they all 'deserve' it. as a justin apologist (lol), seeing ppl say that he absolutely doesn't deserve it because all he did was study and not use magic (use magic 'responsibly') is strange.. esp when he has said that he has to work more (the constant quizzing himself and the songs as shown in S3E03) because it doesnt come naturally to him like it seems to for alex and he ties much of his worth to his ability to do magic well. it feels a bit cold..

#i am re rewatching wowp and am on s3 so forgive if i misremember things #ND vibes coming from justin.. probably all 3 of them lol #maybe i'm just a v empathetic person.. and out of the 3 of them i relate to him the most even though i'm not as academic or driven as him #in 2020 i had big feelings on max as well. my among us name was maxrussso and roblox dn is maxrussofamilywizard lol. but justin is on my #mind this time around #also a little surprised but not mad that keyan didnt give justin shit for revealing wizardry like i see many ppl do (me lightly included) #he saw it as noble which is interesting. i saw it as his hero complex coming in like in the film.. #tv: wizards of waverly place #wowp