Natalie Dormer and Katie McGrath do the ALS Ice Bucket Challenge (x)


>the cat’s got claws_ || Red & Vira [Fallout!AU]


     « …Ladies and Gentlemen, you’re listening to me, Mr. New Vegas, and you look extraordinarily beautiful right n— »

     ”Oh shut up.”

     The raspy voice cut out. A second glance was given to that glowing device on her arm. A few too many rads, and no RadAway to speak of. No wonder she felt so dizzy. But like most everything, she shrugged it off, and continued toward the tents that dotted the gravel up ahead.

     The Mojave was no place for anyone to be traveling alone, especially a young woman. A place full of slavers, gamblers, and psychopaths; but this wanderer didn’t pay much mind to danger—in fact, her habits might as well have been challenging its very nature. She held little value for her own life; as for her purpose—certain revenge had its own priority. This place had changed her; this madhouse that represented the New World. Broken free; on the run; she’d changed her name, found shelter wherever she could, and made some very poor decisions along the way.

     —One of them included that which brought her here. Gambling, which was a mistake—a drunken dare had led to a sober threat, which drove her nearer to the Legion than she ever cared to be.

     "Bitch wears a collar ‘round ‘er neck," the gambler had said, picking his teeth with his knife. "Has all the teeth of her kills on it. Men, whores, young’uns, ghouls. Hell. Anything that moves. You snag that from her, your debt’s cleared. You fuck up again, l’il Red, you gunn’ be answering to the big bad wolf." 

     That big ball of radiation finally set, allowing for some longed-for cool and what’s more, stealth. She’d watched them from afar the best she could, calculating their patrol. Slipping past the border guards was easy enough, and without a sound crept into their leader’s tent. No necklace to speak of, in any of the sacks or crates. Unless that meant what Red dreaded—that it was still around her neck.

     But she hesitated when she came upon her. This woman, Vira, was not how she’d been described at all. She was much younger, probably five or six years older than her, and she was beautiful. Maybe the darkness was just being flattering. Red’s gaze lingered on the woman’s shadowed face a moment longer, before trailing down to her neck, straight-edge raised.

     She froze. The woman’s neck was bare. Oh, that bastard.


Vira was a light sleeper; she always had been. When she was young, being raised by priestesses, she’d slept only fitfully, and the habit still plagued the woman. She was nearly twenty-six now, or as near as she could find out, and she’d been with her tribe for a decade or so. They were known, now, which was usually a great relief, since it was easier to convince recruits if they were properly terrified first.

When her tentflap was pushed open, she’d drowsily assumed it was Nox, but the footstep was too light. Nox had never had stealth. Vira didn’t move, her breath even, her eyes still closed. She tracked the slight noise of the intruder’s step by ear, waiting for her to get close. She used the slight delay to curl her fingers around the trench knife by her side.

The whisper was her cue, and her eyes snapped open as she pushed herself up and out of bed, already moving as she located key points. Within a few seconds, the intruder was on their back, Vira’s knees immobilizing their upper arms, and the knife held to their throat.

No, her throat. Because the intruder was a woman, which seemed interesting to Vira. Usually the only ones stupid enough to break into her tent were the men, dared to by their units. They always died.

"What is it you want?" she snarled quietly, not shifting. Nearly her full weight was on the woman’s upper arms, which was probably painful, but Vira didn’t care. "Because trust me, dearthere are easier ways to get your throat cut than this!” evilsupplyco


What is a hero without a villain?

What is a villain without a hero?


Male Vira:



All in favor say ‘aye’. imnotbadimjustcodedthatway
profoundly-naive asked: "What are you doing under there?"






"Hiding from responsibility," Vera replied with a grin. She was wearing her pajamas and had set up camp underneath several blankets. "Everyone copes with finals week differently." She held up a book - not a textbook, for a change. "This is my coping mechanism. Care to join me, dear?"

Quorra laughed in response. “Of course!” She let go of the blanket that served as the fort’s entrance and straightened, shrugging the backpack off her shoulders and dropping it on the floor next to the dresser. It made a loud thud—overstuffed with books, as always. She untied her shoes and set them down next to the backpack, and made sure to pick one of the three books out of it before finally joining Vera.

The fort was adorable, albeit small, though big as a dorm room could allow. Quorra settled in next to her, lying on her back with a pleased sigh. “I think I like your coping mechanism.” She hugged her own book to her chest, as if it were a teddy bear. It might as well have been.

She turned and tilted her head, focusing on the book in Vera’s hands with avid interest. “Whatcha reading?”

Vera laughed and shuffled to the side to make space for Quorra, holding up her book – a biography of Cleopatra – with a smile. “Studying up, for when I form my own empire and set myself up as the god-queen of it.” The words were only  half a joke, since Vera had put some serious thought into the feasibility of it.

She looked down at her friend with a fond smile. “What about you? Are you here because you didn’t want to study?”

"Oh! That’s… well that’s intense," Quorra replied with a hesitant chuckle. That was the thing about Vera, though… her sarcasm always bordered on actual planning. Quorra had either learned how to tell the difference, or decided to just smile and nod. Regardless, it just heightened her intrigue toward the older woman, having her pay visits to her room like this, only to find her half transformed into a blanket fort. 

"Are you kidding? I just had my Politics final. I don’t want to study again for as long as I live!" She opened the book over her head and brought it down to rest on her face, as her arms flopped limply at her sides, an image of exhaustion.

"And before you say it, yesh-, I’m reading it again," she mumbled proudly from beneath the book: 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, a particularly worn copy at that. She exhaled tiredly. “Ugh, I just want to lay here forever. Think the other professors would notice I was gone?”

Vera only gave her a wry smirk in return. Truth be told, she didn’t know if she was joking or serious; she was always of two minds about it. The burning desire to prove herself to the world tended to war with her own selfishness, to no productive ends.

"Ah, politics." She chuckled and ruffled Quorra’s hair. "I don’t care what you read, dearest. It’s your choice, after all."

Vera raised an eyebrow and glanced at the window. It was a dull, rainy day, and going outside was going to be a chore later. "Honestly, knowing you, the professors will assume you’re reading somewhere, and as long as you don’t have any more tests, who actually gives a fuck?”


"Total immunity is so relative when the pathogen is sentient. Surely you don’t trust those idiot scientists who say you’re safe.

Headcanon memes for ships! - platonic, romantic and even brotps


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Vira didn’t respond to the jab, just smirked a little more, waiting. Ursula wouldn’t just walk away; that would make her a horrible tease. It was just a matter of time until she’d lash out at Vira -


The punch was faster than she’d anticipated, though, and caught her in the jaw, making her stagger back a step and suck in a breath. It only took a moment for her to reorient and lash out herself, a fist aimed at the woman’s stomach.

Ursula had expected Vira to punch back, she always did. They both had no idea how to back down from a fight. They always lashed back, they always tore at their enemies with their nails and teeth when given the chance. This did not stop the woman from getting slugged in the stomach.

A sharp gasp sounded out as she hunched over before she became angry and went to kick the other woman in the groin. Ursula had discovered a long time ago that kicking a woman in that same place hurt her quite a bit, it often disarmed them and send them spiraling backwards.


Vira daced out of the way only receiving a glancing blow to her hip.

Very rude, cara mia,” she chided, a light taunt. "Hitting below the belt is a disgrace to Mars, isn’t it?" She shoot her short hair back, out of her eyes. "Or at least isn’t that what your father would say?"

She was practically circiling Ursula now, waiting for an opening to tackle her. She knew one would come eventually; she’d always had more patience in her hunts. imnotbadimjustcodedthatway




"I said I want to be alone. Or is that too hard for you to understand?”


     ”…Then we’ll be alone, together. You won’t even notice I’m here.”


"That’s not how being alone works, dearest.” Vira was putting on her best sneer, her best game face, but there was a slight tremble to her voice. "I always notice. Now get the fuck out."

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