#METH WOULD SAVE HER

[miraofhearts2point0]

im gonna be sick all Jinx needed was some concerta and she'd be fine

[endlessfuckup]

Are you okay?

Not really :/

Constantly dealing with one traumatic/chaotic event after another

[graceshouldwrite]

Writing Compelling Side Characters

**NOTE: Some of these tips don't really apply to ensemble casts, where there are multiple Main Characters (plural).

1) Agency - motivations, actions, effects

Technically, they ARE side characters in your MC's story, but don't base your writing on that fact.

Side characters need:

Their own REASONS for joining the story (because they want to, not because the PLOT wanted them to) Example: In Arcane, Caitlyn inadvertently gets involved with Vi due to her compassion and desire to help the undercity, not because the plot needs a love interest

A GOAL, on which they act INDEPENDENT of the plot, and actually affects your MC/the main plot (not the other way around) Example: In Loki, Sylvie's independent goal is to take down the TVA, and her actions reveal the TVA's corruption to Loki, influencing him to join her in fighting against the TVA instead of working for them

A STAKE in how things end (e.g. someone getting paid after agreeing to join a heist); they aren't just in it to be a "comic relief" or a "damsel in distress" Example: In Breaking Bad, Jesse joins Walt in cooking meth because he makes BANK from selling drugs, not because Walt needed a funny and traumatized sidekick

Their own RELATIONSHIPS with other characters, aside from the MC—they have their own friends, enemies, love interests, etc., and these relationships can completely change the plot Example: In the original Percy Jackson series, all of the side characters (e.g. Annabeth, Nico, Thalia, Luke, etc.) have their own relationships with each other that greatly affect the plot. Check it out: Annabeth's attachment to Luke, even after he became evil, completely changed the plot in several ways: kickstarting a journey to save her from Luke in The Titan's Curse, revealing his true evil identity as a vessel for Kronos (big bad!) in The Battle of the Labyrinth, and mainly contributing towards Luke's reversion away from evil in the last book due to him remembering his promise to take care of her a long time ago, etc.

Their own PAST that affects how they act, move forward, and how they treat the MC Example: In Avatar: The Last Airbender, Azula's pressure on herself and desire for perfection is greatly driven by her father's expectations of her as the fire-bending prodigy, resulting in a childhood of earning parental love and care AFTER she proves her worth to him. This created a mentality ceaselessly focused on her goals—which are usually her father's missions—causing her to be deadly, manipulative, and constantly causing problems for the main character.

The side character is not an extension or byproduct of the MC's plot; their own story happens to collide and intertwine with your MC's plot, but is ultimately independently driven.

2) Affecting the ending

The story can't have reached the same ending regardless of the side characters' existence. They must be necessary to the MC in helping them reach their goal faster, more prepared, etc. For example, in Avatar, Aang would not have been able to reach his goal of defeating the fire lord without the help of his friends, who each taught him valuable life lessons as well as combat skills.

Each character must have an independent impact on the MC—don't treat them like a group (e.g. "the side characters," who are one individual collective). Arcane does a great job with this, as each side character has a completely different impact on the MCs (e.g. Silco, Ekko, Caitlyn, and Vi—not a side character but for the purpose of this analysis, bear with me—all have a different impact on Jinx). It isn't just a literal impact. It's what the MC learns, and the theme of the story. They should help the MC realize things about themselves, and contextualize the MC by showing them in different situations with different people.

3) Avoid stereotypes Don't create characters from moulds and conform 100% to the trope: e.g. the "comic relief" can also be "the outlaw/rebel" or the "love interest," the "brooding antihero" can also be the "caregiver" or the "wise one," the "seductive girl" can also be the "science nerd" or the "broken optimist," etc. Mix and match. Everyone has more than 1 personality trait in real life, and probably fulfils more than 1 role to the other people in their lives. Give them intersecting personality traits to flesh them out.

4) Theme and Arc Especially compelling side characters have their own arc and embody their own theme.

Example 1: Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice is more than the brooding love interest—he develops by being less arrogant and learning to see people beyond their social status, and opens up to new ideas, people, and situations.

Example 2: Nico di Angelo from the Percy Jackson series goes on a journey of self-acceptance and embracing his identity, instead of just being the stereotypical emo kid who is constantly in a state of angst.

Example 3: In Arcane, Silco goes from a ruthless crime lord who believes that attachment is weakness, to someone who genuinely cares about his adoptive daughter, so much so that he can't give her up even in exchange for his lifelong dream.

∘₊✧────── ☾☼☽ ──────✧₊∘

instagram: @ grace_should_write

Hope this was helpful, and let me know if you have any questions by commenting, re-blogging, or DMing me on IG. Any and all engagement is appreciated :)

Happy writing, and have a great day!

- grace <3

[thewulf]

Cross || Jake "Hangman" Seresin

Summary: The four times you captured Jake Seresin’s attention and the one time he did something about it.

A/N: A request from a friend. Enjoy!

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Y/N

Word Count: 6,500+

TW: Abuse (Physical)

One

From an early age you learned how to sit down, shut up and do what you were told. Growing up on the south side of Chicago didn’t bode well for the greatest childhood. Your parents, if you could even call them that, gave you a shelter and sometimes some food but other than that? You were on your own from a very early age with your older brothers. Who quite frankly didn’t give a shit about you either.

You wished and prayed that your parents would snap out of it and start taking care of their children, but they never did. You gave up praying on your eighth birthday when your mom picked the pills over her own babies. Classic drug addicts. You gave up trying to form a relationship on your tenth birthday when you had to call an ambulance because your dad was unresponsive. He lived, somehow.

Things often got violent in the household. You learned how to protect yourself, learning how to fight back against two methed out parents by the age of twelve. Realizing quickly you had to learn how to defend yourself or you’d likely end up dead. You did just that. You wished your parents were alcoholics like every other parent on the south side. But no, they had to be hard drug users. They were so terribly unpredictable. Sometimes they’d treat you like gold but the very next day you could be getting beat on, you just never knew. You had to be ready at all times. It was exhausting being in constant fight or flight mode.

On your eighteenth birthday you left without saying a word. You didn’t have a plan nor a cent to your name but you sure were scrappy. You’d found weird jobs across the country for a few years before landing in San Diego and meeting Penny Benjamin.

You liked to think Penny saved your life from spiraling even further than it had. She was desperate for a bartender, and you were desperate for a stable job. You ended up falling in love with the job and the area. Most days were great, but some days were awful. And today? Today was one of those awful days.

“Hey sweetie, how about another beer?” A lovely patron of the Hard Deck clinked his empty beer glass against the wood countertop eyeing you up and down. Disgusting. You’d gotten used to brazen men checking you out, but it never ceased to amaze you just how gross they could get. Especially with a little beer in their system.

Rolling your eyes, you simply ignored him deciding to focus your attention elsewhere. Not giving the creepy old man who couldn’t seem to stop eye fucking you any satisfaction. You greeted a younger couple happily chatting away with them trying to ignore the creep as best as you could.

“Baby, I’m talking to you.” He yelled from across the bar interrupting you from the conversation. Penny gave you a look asking if you could handle it. You could. You dealt with these gross drunks all the time. It still didn’t make it pleasant though.

Giving her a quick nod, you turned back to the couple.

You were so tempted to ring that damn bell, but it was more effort than it was worth tonight. See, it was a Friday night at the hard deck and a bunch of Top Gun pilots were back making it even busier than you were used to. You didn’t have time to think let alone serve this entire bar another round. So, you decided against it instead finishing up the order you were already working on.

Once you finished serving the couple you turned your attention back to the man knowing you’d have to confront him eventually. You decided to serve everybody around him first making sure to pay him no attention.

“Baby is playing hard to get.”

Snapping your eyes up at him you swore your nostrils were flaring, “Don’t you fucking baby me.” You were tired. So damn tired of men thinking they could speak to you like you were nothing. Like your only purpose on this god forsaken planet is to serve them beer and look pretty.

“Feisty little one.” He winked as he slid his empty glass in front of you.

“Get the fuck out of this bar.” You stared at him with icy eyes. Any friendliness in your tone completely gone.

You noticed him pause at your words. Taking a second to see if you were being serious. It didn’t work though, he continued to press on, “A pretty little thing like you shouldn’t have a mouth like that.” He slurred his words this time.

“Get the fuck out. Now.” Nearly growling you turned away. You were far too busy to be dealing with this shit right now. Another bartender called off and it was just you and Penny trying to serve hundreds of impatient people.

You didn’t make it too far feeling a cold hand wrap around your wrist.

Fuck it. He started it.

Turning around quickly you made a fist out of your hand like it was second nature. Not putting much thought into it you used all your might as your hand collided with his right eye. He dropped to the floor almost instantly with a thud sending the bar into an almost eerie silence.

“Fuck.” You groaned shaking your wrist out. You had forgotten just how bad it hurt to make direct contact like that. Penny flew over to you making sure you were okay.

It suddenly hit you how silent the bar had gotten after you threw that nasty punch. Only hearing a few whistles from the aviators over in the corner who were all eagerly watching in anticipation. Looking up at them you saw them all nodding and smiling. Simply thrilled this had happened while they were there.

“You okay?” Penny asked as she wrapped some ice in a towel for you.

“Perfectly fine.” You smiled graciously accepting the ice. Your knuckles were already turning purple from the impact.

She leaned over the bar to assess the damage you had inflicted, “Damn girl. You knocked him out cold.” Penny gave you a wide eyed expression as she turned back to you.

Smiling awkwardly at the customers who were still a little shocked you decked someone right in the face, you mimicked Penny leaning over the bar taking a peek. Nodding to yourself you were quite proud of that hit. Not that you necessarily condoned violence but sometimes it was necessary, like right now.

Penny rang the bell trying to liven the crowd back up and trying to signal for the young pilots to come over, “Seresin! Fitch! Throw him out will you?” She yelled to the two closest aviators who couldn’t seem to get enough of what was going on.

“Yes ma’am.” The pretty blond pilot answered her grinning from ear to ear. He looked like he loved this shit. You’d never seen him before. You were sure you would’ve remembered that face. That smile.

“Thank you.” Penny smiled at him before turning back to you. Eyeing your hand, she looked at you curiously, “Can you still serve or …” She trailed off not sure what to say. It wasn’t that often that a young female bartender straight decked a customer and knocked him out cold. Of course, it was you who had to break the mold. It was always you doing something you shouldn’t have.

You weren’t a bad kid. Quite the opposite really. A bit naïve if anything, you simply wanted the best for everyone. But you also weren’t a pushover. You’d given him a few warnings and he was the one that touched you first. You felt every justification in knocking the old creep out.

You always seemed to end up in these situations though. Your trash life just seemed to follow you everywhere like a curse you couldn’t break.

Shaking your head you dropped the ice, “I’m good!”

“That was one hell of a punch.” The blond pilot spoke up drawing your eyes back towards his. Damn, he was pretty. He was even more handsome when he was a few feet from you.

“Thanks.” You laughed grabbing a glass to fill up with a draft, “Guess my dad was good for something.” Smiling brightly at him you attempted to crack a joke. It might’ve been a defense mechanism, but it was true. Your dad was a low life good for nothing fuck who would’ve sold you if he knew he could. He was far too dumb to pull anything like that off though.

His smile dropped slightly being a bit taken aback by your casual statement, “You otta teach our friend Bobby over there how to throw a punch.”

The other pilot laughed at the blonds remark as he began to pick up the unconscious man.

“I’m sure Bobby can throw a punch just fine.” You halfway returned the smile. He was trouble and you could sniff that out a mile away. Growing up like you did gave you a sort of superpower to sniff out bullshit. Being able to read people like a book surely had its advantages.

“I beg to differ.” He threw you a wink before helping his friend out. Taking a breath, you were sure this was just the first of many encounters with the blond pilot. You weren’t sure if that excited you or made you want to quit on the spot.

Two

The next few days had slowed down quite a bit at the Hard Deck. You sure did love the money you made on Friday, especially after throwing that punch, but you were thankful it was slower. Finally, being able to catch your breath after the busy weekend shift.

You were distracted serving a few customers at the bar or you would’ve seen the blonde pilot enter with a few friends. You didn’t see his face perking up ever so slightly when he saw you behind the bar. He considered himself increasingly intrigued by you. He had surely never seen any woman handle herself like that. He simply loved it.

Of course, he offered to get the first round. He wanted to talk to you, even for a moment. Payback and Coyote teased him before he walked over to you. The two of them noticed how he kept bringing you up in conversation even though he knew nothing about you.

“I have a nickname for you.” A silky smooth southern voice from behind you spoke up. Turning around you bit your cheek to hide the stupid smile that wanted to grace your face. There he was… trouble.

“And that is?”

“Cross.”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion, “You’re going to have to explain that one to me.”

“You’ve got an amazing cross shot.” He grinned before continuing, “And I wouldn’t want to cross you.”

“The punch, really?” You grabbed him a few domestics from the fridge sliding them over after popping the tops.

He shrugged taking a slow sip from the glass, “What can I say? It was hot.”

You laughed shaking your head, “Noted…” You trailed off waiting for him to properly introduce himself.

“Hangman.”

“I’m not calling you Hangman. I’m Y/N.” Rolling your eyes, you grabbed a rag wiping down the counter next to him. Making sure to do anything to avoid eye contact with the pretty man.

“And why not? That’s a beautiful name, Y/N.”

“It’s weird.” You rebutted almost instantly ignoring his second comment. Terribly flirty this man was.

This time he let out a hearty laugh. He was enjoying himself all too much. The effortless back and forth between the two of you made him giddy. He could see how sharp you were, how witty you are.

“It’s not weird if I give you permission.”

You continued to clean, “I don’t need your permission. It’s still weird.”

He didn’t stop the smile that formed on his face, “Call me Jake then. I’m still calling you Cross though.”

You looked up to him now, “And if I don’t give you permission?”

“Like you said, I don’t need it.” He countered using your own words against you.

“Fair.” You narrowed your eyes in on him. He got you there, you couldn’t deny that one.

“So, where are you from doll?” You knew he was just being polite, no ill will towards the term of endearment. But you hated it.  Your childhood really truly traumatized you. When you were far too young you’d have men catcalling you on the streets calling you sugar, sweetie, honey, or baby. It made your skin crawl. You hated that simple terms of endearment were traumatizing to you. Those sweet nothings were taken from you. Why couldn’t you just be normal?

“Don’t call me that.” You harshly spoke back to him. Your eyes softened seeing his confused expression, “Please.” You added trying to soften the blow.

“I thought I didn’t need permission.” He smirked, testing your boundaries.

You bit your lip thinking hard about how you wanted to respond to him, “Please.” You smiled softly, opting to go the easiest route of begging him not to.

He nodded sharply understanding your near desperation in your ask. Taking another long sip of the beer he hesitated to leave even though his fellow aviators were so patiently waiting on their own.

“Yes ma’am.” He smiled before sauntering off back towards the pool table.

You spent your night relatively busy as the Hard Deck picked up. Sending glances Jake’s way, you couldn’t seem to keep yourself from looking at him. Maybe it was the way he presented himself so surely, but no man had ever treated you with the respect he had already shown.

The bar was literally in hell, yes, but here you were also intrigued with the pretty blond pilot.

Three

It had not been a good few days. Your piece of shit ex-boyfriend had shown up at your doorstep begging you to forgive him. You had called off the shitty relationship a month ago after you caught him cheating. Trash life, trash men.

You really did think he was different until you walked in on him hooking up with a neighbor.

Long story short he wouldn’t leave. The cops had to come. Once they left he had decorated your cheek with a nice little back slap which split your lip right open. He ended up leaving after telling you just how worthless he thought you were.

 You sat there crying to yourself wondering why you couldn’t get out of this shitty spiral that your life always seemed to be in. You’d escaped Chicago just to end up in the same situation that you’d grown accustomed to. Being abused by the people that should love you.

You told Penny the truth, not wanting to lie to her. Sure, she was your boss, but she was also one of your better friends here. The two of you got along like peas in a pod and you sure did suffer through enough long nights at the bar together.

She let you take the night off, understanding you would likely not be up for it.

However, she did invite you down to the beach the next day. She mentioned that shirtless pilots running around playing football might cheer you up. Not being one to pass up on such an opportunity you sped on down to the beach sitting next to Penny just outside the Hard Deck.

“Damn. You were right Penny.” You whistled lowly admiring the scene before you, “This really does help.”

She was smiling until she saw your lip, “You alright?”

“Yeah. Nothing I can’t handle. Just caught me by surprise is all.”

She was frowning now, “Did he do that before?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

Shrugging you smiled as you found Jake in the swarm of men. Damn, he looked even better shirtless. That just wasn’t fair.

“I’m used to it Penny. Can’t seem to escape it.” You laughed softly accepting your fate. It’s all you really could do. Laugh. What else could you do?

She shook her head, “Don’t say that Y/N. Nobody deserves that.”

“Sure.” You smiled towards her trying to comfort her more than yourself. She looked so worried for you.

She broke the eye contact the two of you were holding first, “Looks like you’ve got a visitor. I need to talk to Pete anyway.” She laughed after seeing your shocked expression. She was just up and leaving you to deal with the handsome stranger?

He immediately noticed your bruised cheek and busted lip. Making sure to brush the frown away quickly he plopped down next to you. Closer than you would’ve, not that you were complaining.

“Another fight there Cross?” Jake grinned hoping to extract something from the closed book that you were.

Huffing to yourself you looked up to him, “Something like that.” You kept it vague as you turned your attention to the waves rolling before you. That’s what you loved about this place. You lived mere minutes from the beach.

He nudged you with his shoulder, “Should I see the other guy?”

Blinking rapidly, you kept your attention away from him suddenly feeling awfully vulnerable as he kept his attention trained on you, “Yeah.” You whispered

“You okay?” He mimicked your whisper. Almost afraid he might spook you if he spoke too loudly.

That question knocked you back into reality, “I’m perfectly fine Jake.” You flashed him your most genuine smile careful not to bust open your lip again. You had finally gotten it to stop bleeding.

“Are you sure?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” You returned his question with one of your own.

“You seem a little spacey and you have a split lip. Just checking that’s all.” Throwing his hands up in defense he refused to look away. He kept his eyes trained on your face.

You were quickly becoming an enigma to him. The two of you seemed to talk frequently but he didn’t know a damn thing about you. He knew your first name and that you bartended at the Hard Deck. That’s all he could seem to get out of you.

You nodded along noticing how defensive you had become, “Volleyball accident. Took a hit right to the chin.” Lying as casually as you could you found the courage to look back over to him.

He clearly didn’t believe you eyeing you curiously, “If that’s the story you’re sticking to. So be it I guess.”

You frowned knowing he wasn’t going to let you get away with it. He was just too confrontational, “Well, it’s the story so.”

“Bullshit.” He countered clearly ready to get into whatever this situation was.

Rolling your eyes, you turned your body away from him slightly. He was annoying. You really didn’t want anybody digging into your life. It was already embarrassing enough to come from where you did. Having to explain that to Jake sounded downright mortifying.

“Does it matter?” You replied refusing to look at him.

He scoffed this time not sure how you weren’t understanding him, “Yes it matters Y/N. Of course, it matters.”

“I slipped in the shower.” You attempted to lie again.

“Why are you lying?” He too seemed to have a mega bullshit detector just like you.

You shrugged, “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

He frowned seeing you look so utterly defeated, “Are you at least safe?”

“I think so.”

His eyes were nearly bugging out of his head now. He couldn’t understand you. How you so utterly nonchalant about whatever situation you were in he couldn’t grasp, “You think?”

Nodding your head you turned back to him, “I should be fine. I can handle him.”

“Him?” He jumped from his seat standing in front of placing his hands gently on your shoulders. You really hadn’t meant to let that one slip, but it was far too late to try and backtrack now.

Sighing you looked up to him, “It’s fine. I’m fine. I’m safe. I can handle it.”

Narrowing his eyes in on you it didn’t look like he quite believed you. But what could he do? He didn’t know you and you sure weren’t planning on sharing, “Are you sure.”

You nodded, “Quite.”

He dropped his hands from your shoulders, “Alright. I should get back?” He pointed to the group almost questioning if he should go or not.

You smiled, “Sure. I’ll see you around Jake.”

“You sure will.” He winked before jogging off back to the group of aviators not able to shake the sinking feeling he had in his gut.

Four

You were in fact able to handle him the second time around. It did come at a cost though. A pretty black eye, a bruised rib and a potentially sprained wrist didn’t stop you from putting him in his place.

Completely forgetting to lock the deadbolt he was able to get in with a copy of your housekey.

The sheer rage your ex had laced in his eyes eerily reminded you of your parents when they were cracked out of their minds. Shuddering at the thought you were able to get the upper hand. You didn’t think he’d be so brazen but then again you couldn’t tell if he was high out of his mind or not.’

Of course, you realized he was a shitty dude at the end of the relationship, but this was completely out of the ordinary from him. He hadn’t laid a hand on you prior to smacking you across the face. But now? The look of sheer rage horrified you, looking like he wanted to seriously hurt you.

Being terribly confused by the whole situation didn’t help either. You just couldn’t understand why he wanted to hurt you. Why he couldn’t have just left the relationship and moved on? He was the one that cheated anyway. It’s not the two of you were terribly in love either. You were only together for a few months. You simply just chalked it up to having the world’s worst luck.

After forcing him out by hitting him with a frying pan a few times you ended up calling the cops, unsure of what to do. They weren’t much help, telling you to find a different place to stay and they’d start a document for a restraining order. It was all bullshit, and you knew it. It wasn’t worth the cost to follow through.

Deciding to call Penny instead of risking staying in the house she let you come sleep on the couch at her place. She let the small gasp come out when she saw your state. You groaned realizing just how bad you probably looked. But true to your words you didn’t really feel that bad. You were used to being roughed up.

She got you some ice for your eye and wrist letting you pick out a movie as she did so. You settled on Step Brothers hoping to take your mind off of everything.

“Thanks Penny.” You yawned beginning to feel exhaustion creep up over you.

“Anytime kid. Get some sleep kid.” She patted your head before departing to her room upstairs. You snuggled in hoping to fall into a dreamless sleep.

Penny let you stay there that day as you searched for new locks, knowing you couldn’t go back until those were changed. She also let you skip your shift that night much to Jake’s dissatisfaction. He was really looking forward to seeing you, you always worked on Thursday’s.

Penny may have let it slip that you were staying at her place just up the road and that you were ‘sick’ after Jake complained that you weren’t there.

Immediately understanding what she was putting down Jake grabbed his keys and walked out of the bar. Shooting a text to his friends letting them know he’d be right back. But he needed to see you, make sure that you were okay.

Softly knocking on Penny’s door, he anxiously waited for you to answer.

You took a peek out the window cursing when you saw Jake standing there. Your face looked even worse than yesterday but there wasn’t enough time to try and hide it.

Sighing you opted to just open the door.

“Jesus Christ Y/N.” Jake frowned examining your black eye and bruised nose.

You smiled softly, “You should see the other guy.”

He grumbled not taking his eyes off your broken face, “Not really a time for jokes Y/N.”

“It’s always time for joking Jake.” You countered knowing it’d drive him mad. Something you enjoyed doing all too much as of late. The simple back and forth the two of you had grown accustomed to gave you so much joy throughout your stay in San Diego.

“Are you okay?” He pushed you back out of the doorway with his own body, inviting himself right on in.

“What are you doing here?” You asked after moving out of his way, not protesting in the slightest.

“I’m checking in.” He gave you the most obvious look, as if it was clear what he was doing here, “Penny told me what happened.”

“That little snake.”

“Well to be fair she just said you were sick. I kind of just assumed after seeing you a few days ago.” He frowned again grabbing some more ice from the freezer for you, “You need to keep ice on it.”

“Okay.” You simply nodded taking the ice pack from him gingerly knowing he was entirely right.

“What? No witty remark? No comeback?”

You giggled for the first time in a while. Feeling lighter and freer with the man standing in front of you. Having an odd sense of trust in him, “No. I don’t argue everything Jake.”

“Could’ve fooled me.” He smiled before guiding you to the couch wanting you to sit down.

Obliging you took a seat at one end, “Pot calling the kettle black.”

He laughed taking a seat at the opposite end, giving you some needed space, “But seriously, are you alright.”

You nodded, “I’m fine. Just need to change my locks and then I’m good.”

“You said that last time.” He deadpanned.

“I was being serious earlier. He took a cast iron pan to the forehead, multiple times. I think he’ll think twice.” You smiled remembering your victory over the weak man.

He looked you over while he nodded, somewhat impressed, “Can’t be too careful though.” He studied you yet again not being able to hide his upset expression. He really couldn’t believe that somebody would ever dare lay a hand on you let alone leave such a mark on your eye. He might’ve only known you for a brief time, but he felt protective over you. So oddly protective.

You shrugged, “I’ll sleep with my pan at night.”

He laughed taking you in. He was fully enamored with you now. How you could make such light out of the seriousness of the situation and manage to calm him down was something magical. Truly unlike anyone he’d ever met, “That’s a start. I’ll tell you what. I have the day off tomorrow, why don’t I help you change those locks then?”

You smiled nodding at him, “I’ll happily take some help.”

“Great.” He smiled, “10 AM work?”

You nodded feeling a burst of excitement at the prospect of Jake helping you out, “Works great.”

“Perfect, see you then. Gotta get back to the bar though, just wanted to check in. Have to go beat Rooster’s ass in a round of darks”

Nodding you didn’t stop the smile that come over you, “See you tomorrow Jake.”

“Goodnight Y/N.”

“Night.”

Five

Another busy night at the Hard Deck had you focusing on everything but watching the front door. After changing your locks your ex didn’t attempt anything, thankfully. You thought he had gotten the hint. Being terribly nervous about the whole situation had you on edge, head on a swivel at all times.

Your heart dropped when you heard that voice from behind you, sitting at the bar as if nothing had happened between the two of you, “Baby, you can’t get rid of me that easily.”

Gulping you refused to turn around instead searching for Penny. But just as you looked up you saw her run off to the back. Sighing you opted to simply keep serving the guests on the opposite side of the bar instead of confronting him. You had the advantage of the bar being particularly busy this night.

“Y/N.” You heard your name called sharply from behind you.

“I’m busy.” You shouted still refusing to turn around moving on to the next customer.

He wouldn’t take no for an answer though. He simply just moved around the bar, dodging, and weaving in between everyone making sure he was in your line of sight. When you saw what he was doing you simply turned around to serve the other side of the bar. Simply not in the mood to indulge in whatever fantasy this dude has. You were prepared to avoid as long as needed.

“Y/N.” There it was again. That damn voice. For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why he was not taking the hint.

“I said, I’m busy.” You snapped back focusing on washing the racks of dirty beer glasses in front of you

“You’re not getting rid of me like this, Y/N. We need to talk about this!”

Rolling your eyes, you kept moving down the bar, strategically avoiding him. The gull on the piece of shit was baffling to you. He was the one that cheated on you. You were pretty damn sure that wasn’t the first time either.

What you also didn’t notice was how Jake was observing you every now and then. Often doing so, he wanted to make sure that you were okay. He caught flack from his fellow aviators for treating you so differently, they didn’t have a clue though. Not a damn clue.

He noticed your relaxed and easy going attitude change drastically throughout the night. You were usually so cheery and happy to talk to people. Tonight, you looked agitated and a little stressed out. For the life of him Jake couldn’t pinpoint what was causing you to feel so distressed.

He didn’t want to bother you when you were so busy, so he hung back for a while. As soon as it began to die down though he found a barstool and waited patiently until you noticed him.

The utter relief you felt when you spotted Jake sitting there was unlike any other. Your ex was still at it getting rather agitated at you dodging him for the last two hours.  Relaxing just a little when you spotted him you quickly walked over to where he was sitting, “Jake. What can I get for you?”

“The usual.” He grinned leaning towards you.

“Sure thing.” You returned his smile with a half-hearted one of your own.

“Are you okay?” He asked as you returned with his beer.

Nodding your head you leaned into the counter, “You ask that a lot.”

“You seem to get yourself into very precarious situations.”

Laughing at his comment you realized he didn’t know the half of it. He couldn’t understand because you refused to tell him, “I do, don’t I?”

“Yes ma’am. Now answer the question.” His eyes darkened over slightly letting you know he wasn’t playing around.

You shrugged, “I have a small issue.”

Eyebrows raised he was a little taken aback you were actually going to tell him something. Not that he didn’t enjoy the banter between the two of you, but this was different, more serious, “And what’s that?”

“Don’t look. But my ex is sitting on the opposite side of the bar right now. He’s been following me around all night.” Sighing you leaned in even closer, “I’m so sorry. He’s probably going to confront you now that I’ve been talking to you for more than a minute.”

Jake returned your shrug almost getting a kick out of it, “I’m not worried about that. I’m worried about you right now. Which one is he?”

Smiling softly at his bluntness you continued, “Red hoodie almost right behind me.”

The moment he spotted him Jake’s eyes darkened a few shades. His cheery smile with the dimples was immediately replaced with a straight line running across his face. If you didn’t know any better of him that look would have absolutely petrified you.

“Just keep your eyes on me Y/N.” Jake spoke quietly as he watched your ex eye you as you served customers.

Nodding softly, you kept your eyes trained near Jake not daring to serve that side of the bar. Another bartender noticed and kept that side locked down, “Thanks Jake.”

“Nothing to thank me for Y/N.” He gave you a serious look to let you know he wasn’t kidding. Jake could never accept a thank you for doing what he was raised to do, protect women. You couldn’t grow up in Texas and not think the world of all women. It always baffled Jake that other men didn’t think the same. That other men could even think of harming a woman.

Jake eventually caught the eye of your ex. He threw in a smirk for good measure. Jake made sure to look back to you to piss him off. And it worked. Almost instantly Jake noticed his red hoodie begin to walk around the bar. He knew this was going to be too good now.

“You fucking my girl?”

Jake grinned, loving every second of this, “Don’t think she’s your girl anymore.”

“Yes she is.” His nostrils flared in an attempt to intimidate Jake, you knew that wasn’t going to happen though.

Shaking his head casually Jake stood from his bar stool finally getting a good look at him. You knew Jake was taller than him, but you didn’t realize just how much. Taking a defensive stance, he eyed the man up and down cracking a smile when he met his eyes again, “Not according to Y/N, you’re not.”

“And you believe the little bitch?” He puffed his chest out not backing down from Jake. You had to hand it to the stupid man, he sure didn’t know when to call it quits.

Jake slowly shook his head, “I reckon you apologize to her.”

He laughed, a full on belly laugh. Getting a kick out of that one. You couldn’t rip your eyes from the scene unfolding before you, neither could the other aviators who had grown quiet observing the interaction between the two men. It was still busy enough that nobody paid them any mind, yet.

“For what?”

Jake didn’t break his stare down on the coward, “You know what for.”

He smirked somehow feeling like he had the upper hand in this argument, “I’m just putting my girl back in her place. Mind your own damn business.”

Realizing this was likely going to escalate you waved down Penny to try and figure out what to do. She waved you off letting you know that it was okay. She didn’t mind a fight in her bar.

“No, see I have a problem with that. Where I’m from a man never lays a hand on a woman.” Jake spoke as coolly as you’ve ever seen him. You just knew you were about to witness some shit go down.

He laughed, “And where I’m from she’s lucky it wasn’t worse.”

Eyes widening at that you actually felt fear from the man for the first time. Had he manipulated you that bad in the relationship that you couldn’t see what a true monster he was? Sure, it was only a few months but at one point you genuinely liked the guy. Now he was sitting here threating to hurt you even further.

Jake saw your fear in his peripherals. He took a step back towards you letting you know that he’s got you covered. He wouldn’t let this so called man hurt you again.

“Touch her again and you’ll understand just how nice we treat men like you.”

“I will do whatever the fuck I want to do to her. She’s mine.”

Your skin was crawling now, breaking out into chills all throughout your body. You definitely had to have missed some big red flags in the relationship.

The other aviators noticed the altercation wasn’t dying down but firing up. You noticed the one that helped him drag the unconscious man out of the bar last week was slowly making his way over to Jake.

“That’s just not going to happen.”

He then placed his pointer finger on Jakes chest, “Like I said. You don’t tell me what the fuck I can do.”

“You have 2 seconds to remove your hand.” He glared coldly.

“One.” Payback spoke up stepping closer to the scene crossing his arms over his chest. Having Jake’s back, “Two.”

Your stupid ex didn’t have a clue apparently because he smugly stood there. How he could be so cocky was beyond you, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Jake spoke. Catching a faint grin, he cocked his head to the side giving him one last chance to step back.

“What are you going to do?”

Jake sighed, “This.”

With his left hand he quickly grabbed his finger bending it back until he head the snap. Your ex wailed in pain at the broken finger. That wasn’t enough for Jake though. He knew he needed to really drive this lesson home for him.

So, as he was crying in pain Jake took his right arm and punched him right under the chin sending him to the floor instantly.

For the second time in a few days another patron was knocked unconscious. Penny sighed while shaking her head opting not to worry about it. Letting the two aviators handle it.

Payback snickered, “You did warn him.”

Jake nodded, “I did. Many times.”

“Damn.” You grinned, “That was one hell of a punch.”

Jake spun on his heels smiling from ear to ear, “I took notes from the best.”

He studied you again noticing just how much more relaxed your demeanor had become when he wasn’t a direct threat anymore, “Let me see your phone.” He demanded more than asked as he walked back closer to the bar.

“What for?” You asked while handing it to him.

“If that motherfucker even looks at you weird again, you call me. Okay?” He quickly added his name to your contacts before handing it back to you.

“Okay. Thank you Jake. Really, thank you.” You leaned over the counter taking it back from him. Pausing when you realized just how close your faces were together.

“Anytime. And if you just want to talk or hang out you can call me too.”

“Really?” Your smile grew at his statement.

Nodding his head he scanned your face again, “Please do. I’m looking forward to it.” He winked before pulling back away from you.

You watched, a little speechless, as the two aviators dragged your good for nothing ex out of the bar and hopefully far away from your life.

[s-rosie]

UNHINGED INCORRECT IIG QUOTES

these are some crack incorrect tig quotes i cooked up in the meth lab which is my mind. some are spicy so read at your own discretion. enjoyyyyy 💖

avery: xander, why are you and libby fighting xander: i just asked an innocent question then she got mad avery: what was it xander: i asked where she was and she said she was riding

avery: and? xander: and she got mad at me for asking if she was riding a horse or my brother jameson: save a horse, ride a cowboy ✊🤠 …………………………………………………………………………………………… jameson: i only want to do what is important in my life avery: what is important in your life? jameson: you avery: aww that’s swee- WAIT WHAT …………………………………………………………………………………………… grayson: your hair looks pretty lyra: you know, it would look prettier with your hands in it grayson: you want me to style your hair? lyra: no, let’s try this again. do you like my dress? grayson: yes it looks really good lyra: i think it would look better on the floor grayson: why would you throw a 3000 dollar dress on the floor? hang it up nicely on a hanger lyra, under her breath: istg this bitch… …………………………………………………………………………………………… max: omg look at what came up in my photos for 3 years ago today avery: okay wait is that a picture of me and jameson making out in the hot tub max: blackmail is a better currency than all of the money you inherited …………………………………………………………………………………………… avery, rolling her eyes: why do you never have a shirt on jameson: would you prefer me to go and put a shirt on, heiress avery: now now i never said that, lets not get too ahead of ourselves- ……………………………………………………………………………………………

jameson: xander, why are you on a table xander: THERE IS A SPIDERRRRRRRR jameson, jumping in the table: WHEREEEEEE AHAHAHAHA avery, walking in the room and killing the spider: you ladies alright? ……………………………………………………………………………………………

[kylejsugarman]

like walt obviously never wanted to or tried to focus on his cancer as a disease, it just became a nebulous entity that was in turns an impetus to Get what he Wanted and an exit sign, and thus was never a huge component of his jesse/business-facing identity, but it’s so excruciatingly clear that the cancer as a disease WAS a big part of his identity to jesse. walt worried about people perceiving him as withered and diseased, but jesse perceived him the complete opposite way and transitioned to that “digital short about making a meth comic” hero worship state of walt partially because of his cancer. jesse not only has a well documented affinity for protecting the vulnerable (and like it or not, cancer is an inherently vulnerable disease), he has an early established personal connection with cancer thru his late aunt ginny. his and ginny’s relationship is a story told almost exclusively through offscreen events and visual or conversational cues, but that just makes it all the more wrenching because this story falls into place in near perfect tandem with the show’s deepening and softening of jesse’s character. we realize that he’s a loving, insecure, vulnerable person just as we’re also piecing together that he lived for years with this woman who loved him as he Was and who he cared for devotedly until she died. her things remain in her house untouched; when he invokes her name, there’s an unusual degree of reverence to it that we don’t typically see with jesse. he clearly still reveres ginny and those emotions transfer to walt as soon as jesse learns about his cancer diagnosis. that protective instinct emerges, that sense of urgency returns. when walt says that his cancer is stage 3a, jesse unconsciously mumbles “in ur lymph nodes”—not a fact u would expect him to just know offhand. jesse knows this from his time with ginny and in that line—the quietness of it, the impulsivity of it—we see that jesse is thinking about Time. realizing how little of it walt must have left if it’s in his lymph nodes. and so he submits. jesse submits and follows his protective instinct despite the harm it leads him to because he wants to buy walt more time. walt and ginny have become inextricably linked in his mind and when walt dispenses those rare bits of affection and approval, those links only grow stronger. we see all these newly uncovered parts of jesse—the part of him that cares deeply for the vulnerable, the part of him that needs validation from a parental figure, the part of him that is no longer there following ginny’s death—bending to accommodate a generous perspective of walt as a sort of hero who is fighting cancer and graciously allowing jesse to fight by his side for a greater good. and if jesse can reach the bar that walt has set for him, if he can just do what he’s told and chase walt’s approval, maybe he can earn them that victory and save walt from what happened to ginny. i just think that if ginny weren’t a part of this equation, we wouldn’t have gotten the walt and jesse relationship we got. in any case, we certainly wouldn’t have gotten jesse lovingly drawing and inking a literal comic book superhero version of walt and their adventures.

[fatkish]

Hi! I'm a big fan of the work you do, and I was hoping that I could make a request! Headcanons for Midnight, Mt Lady, Ryukyu, and the Wild Wild Pussycats (Sorry if this is a lot! Please feel free to take as much time as you need if you choose to do this! Also I think that the Wild Wild Pussycats deserve more love from the MHA community) with their adopted son or daughter who suffered from abuse by their previous family and now has a hard time dealing with their trauma.

I'd really appreciate it! Hope you're having an awesome day!

(Sorry for not including Mt. Lady, Pixie Bob, Tiger or Ragdoll. I tried to look up their character profiles but I just couldn’t come up with anything for them or I just couldn’t picture them actually looking after and taking care of a child, sorry)

Midnight, Ryukyu and Mandalay x Adopted, Abused Child Reader

The story here is that your parents were drug addicts or criminals that basically ignored you. You were 8 when you were saved. Each of these guys have different scenarios on how they found you as well as how your life is with them. (Sorry if it’s a little redundant)

Midnight:

Your parents were drug addicts that cooked meth and barely ever paid you any attention

You had gotten used to constant hunger and had learned to live off of dumpster diving

You’d go to the dumpsters behind stores and collect whatever goods/food you could find

Places you often went to were beauty stores since you learned that there was money to be made by selling the products that the stores dump

You were quirkless which is why you were constantly on your own. You’re parents had no idea where you were half of the time and didn’t care

One day when Nemuri had the day off she saw the dirty and malnourished child walk into the alley behind the makeup store

She followed you and saw you climb into the dumpster and start filling up a small backpack with items from the dumpster such as lotions, lipsticks, foundations, perfumes, etc.

When you had finished, you climbed out only to see Nemuri staring down at you

When she asked what you were doing, you immediately tried to run away but she quickly used her quirk to put you to sleep

After finding out about your situation when she brought you to the hospital, your parents were arrested and charged with child neglect and endangerment

Nemuri noticed that you would rarely ask for things and had a hard time advocating for yourself

If she didn’t bring something up first, then you’d likely ignore it or wouldn’t say anything

You felt immense guilt in simply asking for a snack or a hug or things like that

So she started having you use a journal to help you understand and validate your feelings. She’d leave a notepad with a box for you to write down your thoughts and feelings so that you guys can read them together when she has the time

Ryukyu:

You had been another child who was used by the Shei Hassaikai. Your quirk allowed for your blood to cure all types of illnesses

Your parents sold you to Chisaki due to them being in debt and needing the money

Chisaki was using you to create vaccines

When the Raid took place, you managed to escape but were terrified of men

Since Ryukyu was one of the few females involved, she decided to adopt you

You originally hated touch but learned to love it after awhile

Your favorite thing is cuddling with Ryukyu

Ryukyu brings you to her agency and has you do your homeschooling there. If you want to go to public school then that’s fine, but while you’re healing, you get to stay with her

She tells people to let you come to them instead of walking up to you

Nejire is like a big sister to you

Wild Wild Pussycats, Mandalay:

In this case, your parents weren’t as bad, but they weren’t the best. They struggled to understand you and how your mind worked which ultimately led them to unintentionally neglecting you

You were a very quiet child and had a hard time with talking, not that you couldn’t talk, it’s just that speaking was very difficult for you

Your parents lived in a cabin in the woods and you loved it, until a forest fire broke out, you see, your quirk is fire manipulation, basically fire bending, you were playing outside at night when you accidentally set fire to the forest

It quickly spread and ended up consuming your home at night, your parents tried to drive away but they realized you weren’t with them which led them to suffocate from the thick smoke whilst they searched for you

You thought your parents abandoned you so you stayed put in your little tent in the woods. Your quirk allowed to keep the fire at bay but the panic and fear caused the flames to out of control

When the Wild Wild Pussycats got the call, Ragdoll reported your location and quirk. Pixie-Bob used her earth manipulation to smother the flames. While Tiger searched the area, Mandalay tried talking to you telepathically

She helped you breathe and calm down, as you breathed, the flames seemed to grow and shrink with your breathes. After you calmed down, Mandalay eventually reached you and brought you to their place in the woods

Originally you were terrified of fire due to the trauma of accidentally killing your parents, even though they ignored you often

Mandalay introduced you to her nephew Kota, Kota saw how terrified of fire you were and showed you his water quirk

Together with therapy and the joined help of Mandalay and Kota, you slowly learned to accept your quirk and lost your fear of it

Kota also helped you with speech therapy and you slowly learned to speak

Every step of progress you made, no matter how small, was celebrated and praised, even when you relapsed your were congratulated for your effort

[strawberrysnoopy]

PROLOGUE/TEASER

summary: for months, leon has been writhing in his bed dreaming of his friend's wife (you). he's been fighting the desperation for months until that one night you bring up a lingerie shoot you've done for a prestigious brand.

part one

**BASED ON THE CHARACTER.AI BOT BY WESKER420. Please follow them, jesus christ, their bots are like crystal meth: they are so good.**

warnings: this is an OOC. I am a firm believer that Leon is an honest and very respectful man and would never do anything to hurt another person to the best of his ability. leon x model!fem! reader, series, SMUT!! SMUT!! SMUT!! they will fuck and that is a promise! infidelity (obvs, babes, look at the title), fem! reader, reader has a vagina, descriptions of masturbation, brief mention of a fleshlight, lube, tissues. leon's kind of a perv if you squint, vaginal sex, anal sex, smoking, language, drinking, weed smoking (mention and act), some texts, lingerie mention, photoshoots, jealousy and possessiveness (the hot kind), ada slander at times, leon is married to ada, no use of y/n or (name) because it gives me the ickity ick, angst at times becos i'm a sad gorl, sorry if grammar sucks but im a slut, also i promise there's dialogue i just ❤️ context and description, slowburn, mutual pining, eventual smut, pov switching from time to time (but not like you pronouns changing to she/her, just like the majority of a chapter would be told in Leon or your point of view,)

For months, Leon had been writhing in his silk sheets at night. He was no stranger to these encounters, considering his career as an agent. Nightmares were a usual guest in his home of dreams, but this time was different. They weren't the usual nightmares of losing his team, no. They were...wet dreams. About you.

Dreams of fucking you so hard he'd break the bed. Dreams of your goddamn perfect tits bouncing in unison with his violent thrusts. Dreams of your whines, constantly praising him on how good he fucked you, how good he felt with the tip of his cock kissing your cervix like they had just had their first kiss on their front porch after a first date. He was fiendish in those fantasies. He'd gotten desperate to the point of going online and buying a fleshlight with his own adult money. He had felt so shameful. Leon went out and fought a bioweapon (saving the world) with a fat paycheck handed to him. A paycheck he would spend on a sex toy because he couldn't stop dreaming of fucking you.

But that's all they were to him. Dreams. Wet dreams, at that, but just dreams. He did feel guilty, there was no denying that: he felt like a teenager going through puberty all over again, having to jerk his cock multiple times past the point of overstimulation to have the fleeting moment of you pass his mind and regulate back onto the normal, time-to-time sexual thoughts of his wife. He knew he probably wasn't alone in this. Besides, he wouldn't ever act on it. True, Leon was in an unstable and semi-toxic relationship with his wife, Ada, but the mere thought of cheating on her made him feel violently ill. He was loyal. He was kind. He was honest. He was the type of man you brought home to your parents and they'd clamor over him like a newborn baby Jesus. At least that's what he'd try to convince himself of. But tonight, Leon Kennedy would be a different man. He'd diligently play the part of a loving and caring husband, one who could never dream of cheating on his wife with another woman. Tonight would be the night that he would have dinner with his friends he hadn't seen in a while, chat, have a good laugh and a good meal until he eventually went home and spent the rest of the night with Ada. Leon knew this wouldn't be the most perfect night ever, of course not: he's never been a lucky man in his life, and that certainly won't be changing tonight. Why? Because you're there. You're there to haunt him like some horny odd ghost: almost as if you're taunting and teasing him with your mere presence. Like you're telling him: "I know you want to fuck me."

He's torn from his thoughts with the sultry palm of Ada's hand surfacing upon his shoulder. Yet, her hand feels cold. He remembers the warmth he felt at the beginning of their marriage, she felt sweaty at some points, but she felt as cold as freezing air in a Colorado Winter. He realized he had been standing in front of their bathroom mirror for ten minutes, doing the same motion of moving his tie back and forth like he was masking the way he thought about changing it.

"Ready?" Leon nodded in response, finally stopping the long game of toying with the elongated piece of fabric. He pats his wife's hip, to which he's met with a curt smile, concealing a plethora of disgust. He wants to be sad. Say something snarky. Be angry even. But all he feels is disappointed in himself. Leon knew that Ada had betrayed him ages ago during the Raccoon City incident but had put it upon himself to trust her again. That's what love is right? He would tell himself every time he felt a doubt begin to creep inside his hollow mind. Trusting someone even when they hurt you in the past.

Eventually they arrive at the dinner party, being greeted with hugs and the usual: "Leon, Ada, it's been so long. So nice to see you!"'s and so and so forth. On one hand, he's grateful. How lucky is he to have the opportunity to come together with his friends and have a nice evening that quells the dark thoughts of breaking his wife's trust or the fact their marriage was breaking at the seams and there was nothing he could do to fix it anymore. Then there's his other hand. The hand that's caked in filth and gut-wrenching horniness that tells him to cheat on his wife with you. The devil on his shoulder, if you will. The small malevolent voice was awoken as soon as his eyes settle upon your body. The one he dreamt about for the past few months.

You're wearing cute little pearlescent earrings upon your lobes, a necklace to match and finished off with a very lovely black slip dress that hugs your body just right. The fabric lovingly stretches across your tits like the dress was ripped straight from every man's dream. There was a slit upon the side: revealing enough until... There was a stirring in his jeans. His cock suddenly leaps to life as if it were unconscious and been resuscitated back to life via CPR. The phallic shaft ached against the gusset and fly of his cotton Calvin Klein brand boxers: tip sweeping against his waistband in a way that felt so familiar now, so normal. And for one of the first times in Leon Scott Kennedy's life, he truly realizes how fucked he is.

credits: snoopy divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more heart divider by @saradika-graphics

[dreamwritesimagines]

Okay. Here me out. A headcannon:

Logan getting surprise gifts for Sunshine. Logan would buy something he knows Sunshine wants or something she mentioned liking one time but would send Theo in to give it to her. Like, he'd pump him up about it too

"Your mom really wants this but she'll only accept it if you give it to her, okay bub?"

Theo insists he understands but manages to tattle on himself every single time 

- "Oh my goodness! Thank you, Bean! I was just thinking about how much I wanted this. You sure you can't read minds?" 

"No but maybe Mr. Logan can! Cause he's the one who bought it."

"Maybe. But you gave it to me. And that's the most important part of giving a gift." Sunshine would say, booping Theo on the nose and giving him a tight hug with a million kisses. "Cause the one who gives the gift gets all the thanks! Thank you, Bean!"

"You're welcome, Mommy!" 

- Later Sunshine corners Logan about it

"Theo gave me the most gorgeous bracelet earlier today."

"Mhmm, he's a good kid."

"Yeah, the best. But I guess I'm gonna have to keep a closer eye on him to figure out what he's been selling to be able to afford 14k gold." 

Sunshine would pause to give Logan the opportunity to confess. He never does. 

"I should start by double checking my secret marijuana plant under the bed to see if he's clipping that. Or the communal meth lab in the basement, I would hate for him to hurt himself down there. Janice does NOT clean her station even though we've all asked her to a thousand times. Or maybe I'll just pull him out of school to make sure he has no one to sell to anymore."

"Alright, ya got me," Logan would turn around with folded arms

"No shit. That was an insane gift, Lo." Logan would mumble something about not worrying about it and would go back to whatever he was busying himself with

I LOVE THIS HEADCANON SO MUCH OH MY GOOOOD! 😍 HONEYYYY!😍 You're so talented, thank you so so much! ❤️

First of all, this is so like Logan! 😂 Like, he knows Sunshine won't accept it from him, he knows he should get Theo to get it to her but doesn't see that Sunshine would maybe question how exactly her little son got her an expensive af bracelet??? LIKE SIR? THAT'S A CHILD?? SUNSHINE KNOWS HIS ALLOWANCE, SHE IS THE ONE WHO GIVES IT TO HIM??? 😂

Theo insists he understands but manages to tattle on himself every single time Theo is a precious cinnamon roll who cannot lie even when he wants to 🥰

"Maybe. But you gave it to me. And that's the most important part of giving a gift." Sunshine would say, booping Theo on the nose and giving him a tight hug with a million kisses. "Cause the one who gives the gift gets all the thanks! Thank you, Bean!" HELP, SUNSHINE AND THEO ARE SO CUTE❤️

"Mhmm, he's a good kid."

"Yeah, the best. But I guess I'm gonna have to keep a closer eye on him to figure out what he's been selling to be able to afford 14k gold."  THAT IS THEO'S MOM AND DAD❤️

"I should start by double checking my secret marijuana plant under the bed to see if he's clipping that. Or the communal meth lab in the basement, I would hate for him to hurt himself down there. Janice does NOT clean her station even though we've all asked her to a thousand times." asdfdghjkl I can't stop giggling😂 Sunshine would be saying all that with a completely straight face until Logan turned around 😂❤️

I feel like Logan would definitely try to play it off and Sunshine would legit go around the table to look him in the eye and go like,

"You could've told me, you know?"

"You wouldn't have accepted it if it didn't come from Theo."

"Okay but to repeat, I know how much money he has. He has a jar he puts his savings into, and it's like twenty dollars."

"Okay but-"

"The jar is made of glass."

"Noted."

"But that was incredibly sweet of you."

"Yeah it's...it's nothing."

"It's not nothing. I'll wear it forever so, sorry I'm not giving it back."

[nardo-headcanons]

Hey my dear mutual! Another super stupid and weird request coming, so, please, feel totally free to ignore completely if you want, really. So, let's say instead of a criminal organization, the Akatsuki are actually a lab team. Which would be their roles, their work focus or their research topics? How would they behave at work with each other or, I don't know, whatever you can think of. Inspired by your agar plates post, by the way, hahahaha

Hello Sasuke, my dear. Don't call your asks weird, I love how creative they are! If anyone wants to write a fic about this please TAG me!

Big thanks to @the-real-sasuke-uchiha for requesting!

The Akatsuki in a modern research lab AU

Akatsuki Labs, Inc. No one knows what they're actually researching, and how they get their funding, however everyone hires them, they're incredibly popular with institutions and businesses alike...

Deidara is a lab rookie who is still at the beginning of his study. He went to a scientific high school and an absolute ace at chemistry. Besides studying chemistry, his other major is pyrotechnical engineering. He blows shit up on the regular and even adds copper sulphate to fires when he is the one supposed to put them out. He frequently steals minerals from the lab to use them for his pottery projects. And yes, he knows how to make meth.

Hidan is on his way to become a neurologist. He is fascinated by the way the nervous system works (especially while processing pain) and has the ego of a neurosurgeon twice his age. However he is regularly asked for a second opinion because he knows his shit. He's pretty popular with the ladies due to his confidence, however many of them are freaked out when they find out what a huge masochist he is.

I've never seen Itachi as a huge stem guy, but I've actually had a discussion about this with my dear moots @pet-plasma-bubble and @suki91 and came to the conclusion that he's either a plant biologist or studies medicine because he's one of these kids with a chronic and/or underdiagnosed illness going into medicine to make a change. Plant biologist!Itachi regularly talks to his plants when no one is looking and he gives them names as well. He doesn't really care much for the actual lab work and prefers to take care of the plants in the different lab greenhouses. Med student!Itachi is one of these anatomy girlies who draw their stuff in fancy colors and actually enjoy studying human anatomy.

Kakuzu is a senior scientist/professor who initially studied pharmacology/pharmacy to save many lives and prolong the lives of millions, but eventually got disillusioned and sold his soul to the pharma industry. He should technically be retired now, but he joined the Akatsuki labs inc to make some money on the side.

Kisame started out as a marine biologist specializing in shark research, however, seeing these beautiful, innocent creatures get bastardized by Hollywood and pollution made him apply to Akatsuki labs inc to help find solutions to the current crises caused by humanity. During his free time, he volunteers in a dolphin rehabilitation center.

Konan is the cofounder of Akatsuki labs inc, everyone respects her and even looks up to her. Once a brilliant scientist in the field of engineering, she got tired of how male dominated it was and how her male colleagues kept getting the credit for her ideas. She frequently holds lab courses for young girls interested going into the scientific field.

Nagato is the Akatsuki labs founder, and rarely seen in the lab. He has made himself a name in the field of robotics by inventing the Shurado robotics system which helps millions of automated machines run to this day. Rarely seen in the lab, he communicated with his employees via his Pain Alias Email. though to be fair, Konan writes most of these emails for him; she's the only one regularly talking to him face-to-face.

Orochimaru is a geneticist and biochemist, his focus being finding ways to avoid cellular decay, as well as the human genome and anti aging research. His parents are academics as well and he lived up to their expectations to the fullest. He has his own skincare formula which keeps him looking snatched at all times. Given the rumors about several scientific ethical code violations, everyone is kinda scared of him except for his personal lab tech, Kabuto.

Sasori is a renowed mortician who's also very interested in histology. His preparation techniques are unmatched and he even invented new preparation- and histological staining methods, which are called "Red Sand" and "Red Technique", respectively. He often gets into fights with Kakuzu about his microtome collection being unnecessarily expensive.

Tobi is the Akatsuki labs CEO cosplaying as a clueless intern that always steals from the candy bowl in the waiting room. In reality, he has a PHD in physics, his thesis being about rifts in space time and interdimensional interactions, however all of his papers are published under an alias. He has a soft spot for Deidara and refuses to fire him despite the latter's frequent "accidents".

Zetsu is a biological anthropologist fascinated by human evolution and human behavior. Some think even his colleagues are subjects of his studies. Some people say he's two-faced, but he is very chatty and inquisitive most of the time. He volunteered to have Itachi's venus fly traps in his office and can sometimes be seen feeding them dead flies or mosquitoes.

[zarnzarn]

It's over.

Blitz drives home in silence, radio busted and spritzing after three different channels all seemed to be playing Verosika's dumb, annoying music.

He remembers her in a tank top in the late morning all those years ago, tongue out as she fiddled with the succubus lyre, singing fragmented nonsense under her morning breath. He remembers the glow of her skin, the raspiness of her voice, the scribble of her pencil, the glimpse of their matching tattoos in the light.

His had gotten blown out in a shootout years later, when a stray explosion caught him across the side, disintegrating his entire right shoulder and growing back white. That had been a miserable job, Blitz the only survivor of that crew after the explosion knocked him out of bounds as the rest of them were slaughtered. He'd liked that bunch. Loved them, almost.

Well. Hah. That was the problem, wasn't it?

The wipers squeak as they turn on and Blitz automatically reaches for the handle and jiggles it until they stop.

For all that he'd been fucking shocked walking into the party at the sheer fucking size of it- and proud too, duh, what the hell, twelve-year-old Blitz would have died in shock- it wasn't actually only exes and bad hookups. Just apparently everyone he'd ever pissed off, which- how the hell did Verosika even know.

He wonders if Moxxie and Millie ever got an invitation and wants to throw up. He wonders if Loona ever got one and wants to drive the van into a wall.

They'd be better off if he did, actually. Everyone would.

But as the charming graffiti on the wall stated, Blitz was a cockroach motherfucker, unable to be put down even in the face of absolute certain death for anyone else. He thinks that might have been Orella- they'd worked jobs together until he caught wind of the leader trying to betray the crew for cash and a higher up job offer and he'd joined the rival group to save his hide. He'd fucking told her, he sat her down and explained and everything- but she fucking refused to believe him until she got blown up, seconds after he'd left the building.

Survived, luckily, all of them. Unfortunately, took it fucking personally and came after him, which-

Ohh, fuck, the goddamn leader threw him under the bus, didn't he? Fucking hell. Another problem solved ten years too late.

He wonders if she was at the party. Or if Bion was. Or Lucas. Or Glenna.

He can't believe Stolas went. He can't believe that asshole said he wouldn't and then he did.

He looked good though.

Good enough that-

Blitz jerks at the steering wheel and pulls over sharply, pushing the seat back so he can put his head between his knees. His hands are shaking, breathing loud as the engine dies into silence.

He can't think about it. He can't think about it, or else he's going to drive back and slaughter everyone there, no matter what they once meant to him. Good for him, hope he gets laid worked if they were over and done with and they were not done.

He can still feel the warmth of Stolas' frame in his lap. Drunk as hell and whiny and adorable. Saying all he wanted was to be craved, loved, held close.

Sitting there in the car, hands over his eyes, Blitz sits there and needs him like opium and meth and can't shake the feeling that this might be one of his biggest fuck-ups yet.

[1427]

dirge

Boyd Crowder X OFC (Beatle)

Setting: in the WoOoOods (Justified Season 1, with Boyd’s militia)

Summary: Boyd is sick of being full of shit. When one of the recruits for his new flock seems to see him for who he really is, he decides it might not be so bad to let her.

Word count: 5.5k

Warnings: CHARACTER DEATH, Boyd Crowder is Boyd Crowder, mentions of white nationalism, mentions of methamphetamine, religious imagery and references, mentions of militias, cults, and Boyd comparing himself to Christ (see above). NSFW WARNINGS; poooooooorly written smut, somno, rough fucking, unprotected piv, references to oral, jerking off, mentions of religion being used in sexual roleplay. mentions of other truly questionable roleplay scenarios, free-use dynamics

A/n: I started watching Justified a few days ago and Boyd Crowder really is one of the characters of all time, isn't he? Beatle is my OC who likes speed and sometimes sells it and sometimes strips but I obviously couldn't stop thinking about what would happen if Beatle had been in one of those trailers he’d held looking for people to follow his cause. Especially since she's just absolutely fucking dazzled by charm and confidence and she'd love him in a way he'd probably never been loved before. Couldn't not write it & I broke my own heart.

Inb4 I disappear for 3 months again

18+ mdni 

✞

Boyd didn't think his daddy would hang her up there with the rest of them. 

She was special, didn't he know that? Couldn't he tell? 

Her hair’s never smelled like gunpowder before. It's more a feeling than a smell, and it stings but he's grateful that it hurts. He deserves it. 

Boyd didn't think his daddy would do any of this. But he wasn't thinking, was he? He should have seen it coming, should have known. Not ‘should have’ in the way that hindsight is 20/20 and you can make wanton wishes about the past; no Boyd should have because he does know better. He's smarter than to let something like this happen.

✞

When he got out of prison he knew he was full of shit. Same shit he'd always been full of. He figures it ain't really like lyin’ so much if everyone knows you're never showing your real face. Talking is more like a game. Trying to spit the words out around the secret biting between his teeth. Secrets? He figures he's allowed to have those. Like what his intentions might have really been when he'd started recruiting junkies to be saved. Be his flock. 

Different vocabulary, same game, same moves, same outcome. 

Boyd did think that there would be a different outcome this time. Everyone always ends up dead, but how could that happen this time? He knows that putting a gun to someone's head and mocking them into sobriety ain't exactly safe and its definitely not legal but it's what works. Who could rightly question his methodologies if he was getting such socially acceptable results? 

The point (as the point of things usually is for Boyd) is that there are enough qualifiers for him to feign confusion and innocence at any question of his motivations. Like he was so damn good at. Boyd had a reply for anything. A defense for everything he'd ever done. Everything he'd ever do. Else he wouldn't be caught doing it. 

This time was easier. This time actually felt like it could be something more. That even though he was using his knowledge of the human condition, and its drive to follow a strong and confident leader, that this time he was doing it for something good at least.

How could getting rid of meth in Harlan county be bad? Boyd asks himself that a lot these days. Whenever he starts wondering how full of shit he is again. And he tells himself it doesn't matter if he's lying about every damn thing, even to himself, if he's getting people clean and following the Lord. 

He doesn't feel that guilty, though. Not enough to really do anything different. His flock is his flock, and when he talks about God he makes sure to word it just right. So they hear it and they think of him. Boyd’s teachings are their gospels, and sometimes Boyd quotes scripture so he can call on God like he's name-dropping a celebrity. It's what works. It's what always worked.

If you’re good at saying the right thing to the right person you can get just about anything you want. If you're good at finding the perfect time to say it, you can keep it. Gettin’ stuff is no good if you can't keep it. That's what all these Dixie boys always got wrong about business. Hell, what everyone got wrong about everything - getting people to just give you what you want always feels so much better than taking it. Usually ends better to.

Before prison, for most of his life, it was skin-heads. He'd already known the slurs and the on-the-surface racial epithets from growing up but it only took a few weekends at the library and a couple eavesdropped Klan meetings to understand what these men were searching for. Only took a few well timed bible verses and an encouraging nod or two to get them to listen. The hardest thing of the whole operation was keeping them from being stupid when he wasn't around.

“Can't plan for everything.” “Sometimes shit just happens.” and “It is what it is.” Are just some bullshit excuses people tell themselves. Because Boyd knows that anything can be planned for. It's just a matter of looking. It's just a matter of knowing. He knows that you don't enter a room without knowing there's an exit and that you don't open your mouth unless you know exactly what could be said back to you. 

Boyd knows how to get what he wants.

But since he's been out of prison he doesn't know what the fuck he wants. So he does what he always does but this time it's with words like shepherd, divine calling, and manifesting righteous love. It feels nice to be leading through positive affirmations instead of bigotry. If only because Boyd really resented how objectively moronic white supremacy was - anything ‘supremacy’ was a fucking joke. And those boys in the brotherhood thinking they were God's gift to the genepool? Hard not to see it when you're lookin’, how ridiculous the whole damn thing is.

That's why it didn't feel all that bad talking down to them. Manipulating them into whatever the fuck he felt like. Boyd wonders about it when he feels this tugging in his gut sometimes when he talks to his flock. It doesn't bother him enough to stop, but just enough to wonder why he hadn’t felt it before.

Maybe it's because she's watching and she knows he's full of shit. 

That doesn't usually make any difference to Boyd and his ability to believably speak lies but every time he meets her eyes he feels like she can see his soul, the things behind what he's saying, and it makes him want to stop. Like he's embarrassed. Just a little. Just barely. It's so foreign to Boyd that if he didn't know just about every physical tell a person's body could have, he wouldn't have been able to place it. 

If Boyd had to find the words to explain it he might have said it felt like he wanted her to see him. That his body and his mind have, as most humans have, the desire to be vulnerable with another human being. That he was meeting something in her that his inner self craved. These were words he'd use. But actually feeling them was harder. His list of wants in life is small and it's been the same things for as long as he's been playing snake in the grass. She's not on it. She never was before. 

✞

She isn't anymore. 

For a few weeks, Boyd let himself have something he didn't think he was allowed. Something he'd told himself he didn't deserve. 

He wonders now if he was full of shit that whole time too. If letting her hold him and kiss him and fall in love with who he really was - if he wasn't just doing it to see if he could.

Her hair never burned his nostrils before.

It's not meant to do that. 

Kissing her forehead never tasted like blood either.  Maybe it should have. Maybe if he'd tasted blood the first time he'd kissed her none of this would have happened. 

Boyd doesn't understand how his daddy couldn't tell she was special. Not when he’d seen it the second she opened her mouth down the barrel of his own gun. Boyd knows she didn't go quiet and he knows if she could open her mouth and talk right now her throat would be sore and raw and ruined. 

He tries not think about how he couldn't hear her. He’s not sure if he wishes he had. 

✞

Beatle didn't get it at first but it didn't take her long. Faster than he'd expected. And maybe if he'd met her on a college campus he wouldn't have been so impressed with her. But what was Boyd ever gonna be doing on a college campus? No, as far as he was concerned it was like lookin’ at himself. 

Almost.

She didn't want the same things, and that didn't lead her to be the same type of person Boyd was. But it didn't stop him from seeing himself in her. All her big words and sweet banter. Even with a damn gun to her head she knew how to be cool. He thought he might be in love with her. 

She'd told him later that it was because she'd seen the way he'd looked at her and knew he wasn't going to shoot her. He told her he still would have shot her if she didn't agree to quit using. She tells him she loves him for the first time. 

It had only been a few days since that had happened, them meeting, and after she’d said it she tried to explain it away. It's the first time he sees her not being so cool. It’s the first time he sees the potential for something more.

Not because she'd slipped up and been vulnerable or given him something to use against her. No, it was the feeling in his chest when she'd professed such genuine admiration for what would generally be considered something he should have kept to himself.

The quiet part he's gotten so good at not saying out loud. The secret between his teeth. She can see it.

✞

Days go by and he's certain she can see it. The way Raylan can see some of it. She starts calling him ‘the prince' around camp and she thinks he doesn't understand why. No one else does, and he supposes that's probably why he's letting her get away with it. He's amused by it. By her. Always saying something that ends up surprising him. 

Just some gaunt addict he found in a shitty trailer in children's pajamas, but she's making observations about him in comparison to Italian philosophy. She can't keep herself from pointing out when he ‘mistakenly’ attributes some quote from a book or movie to himself instead. She uses words he doesn't know.

Those aren't the things that impress Boyd. What catches his attention is that she never uses the words like manipulate or Machiavelli or cult. If she ever does call him out on some misattributed quote she won't call him a liar, and she won't do it in earshot of anyone else. And when she uses her big girl words she looks at him like she's teasing him instead of trying to impress him. She knows when he's wrong about the obscure ass Bible stories too and he has no idea how she knows this shit. 

Going out of her way to call him on being full of shit - without ever actually saying it at all.

She's good. She keeps being better at it than he'd thought someone could be. Someone like her. Someone who wasn't really anyone.

Maybe that's why Boyd felt like he could let her in on it. Just a little bit. Because she could see it and he knew she could and she never called him a liar or a bastard or a psycho or anything like that. She didn't even try to leave. If anything, she seemed charmed by it. 

He didn't think too much about how it might feel to let someone in like that. What it could be like to show your real face and still be wanted. 

✞

Their first kiss doesn't taste anything like blood. 

It tasted like tobacco and dirt and her.

She'd been trying to figure a way to sleep closer to him during the nights. Boyd figures this out after she finally ‘confesses’ that she hasn't been sleeping well,  she's ‘scared of the dark’.

He asks her how long it took her to come up with that bullshit.

She says two days.

He asks why she didn't come up with something better and can't argue when she says there really wasn't anything that didn't sound obvious.

It takes about an hour for her to be pressed up against him. They'd started with their sleeping bags a few feet away from each other, but as they talk the distance gets smaller. Boyd isn't sure if it's her or him that's moving in. Isn't he supposed to pay attention to stuff like that? Shouldn't he be at least a little aware of what she says and what she doesn't say and how she's moving and speaking and staring? 

He's in the middle of a story about one of the banks, talking at her about some really ‘cool’ shit he'd said and never gotten to tell anyone (he never thought he'd wanted to) - and without a word she unzips her sleeping bag, unzips his sleeping bag, and rearranges. Making enough room for her to fit right up against him.

And she does.

Boyd keeps talking the whole time. Finishing his story. She listens, and replies, and neither one of them comment on what she's doing. Neither one of them say anything when she's nestled up against him.

He thinks it through… what to do in this situation. What outcome did he want? His dick is hard but it's not aching. He could sleep. He figures making her wait won't hurt his chances if he decides he wants them. 

So he tells her politely goodnight and he's surprised when she doesn't protest. 

Beatle rolls over and he pulls her close. No harm in being close. Really there was no harm in fucking her either, but it didn't feel like the right moment. Everything has its right moment.

He keeps thinking about fucking her and once again he isn't sure who started moving first but he's pulling her over his cock like her body was his to move how he wanted. It was definitely her who started it, he reasons, arching her back into him and wiggling around - but he could've dealt with it. Could've told her to stop, told her no, told her anything that he knew would shut her down.  But just as he was about to say something she turned her head to look back at him. 

She didn't twist her neck and meet his gaze romantically - pressing her hips delicately into his. No, she folded her body at her hips, completely arching herself against him, looking back and up at him like he was already fucking inside of her.

Boyd knows that when he grabs her hips hard enough to bruise her that she likes it that way. Even if she didn't say all the obvious shit that made him know. 

He's not gonna fuck her. Not tonight. But he uses her body to cum and he doesn't feel bad because he's never felt bad about something human like that. And anyway, she liked it. He knows because he can smell how wet her cunt is. He knows because she was a shaking mess, moaning at just the feeling of dull pressure. He knows because she begged him to cum. 

She begged him to cum instead of begging him to fuck her and Boyd thinks he might be in love again.

She turns around and kisses him and her face has dirt on it from where he'd pressed her head into the ground but he likes the way it tastes on her. 

She kisses like an apology. A real one. One that comes from your whole fucking soul because you never felt anything more. Trying to connect. Fully. Deeply. 

Tuggin’ on heart strings is a saying he's always heard and it always made sense until now when he actually feels it for the first time. Boyd, who's so keen on behavior and mannerisms and what was gonna happen next, feels everything she has.

He's been here before with women. Some of them were different but if he was honest most of them were the same. A sigh here, a disgusted look there. Knowing how a woman feels about you might be the easiest observation a man could make.

So Boyd was expecting what he'd gotten from her when he was grinding into her. All shaking and whimpering and he'd probably either have to take the lead or stop it - either was okay by him depending on what he felt like.

But she's someone else. Again. With one leg hooked around him and her hands around the back of his neck and in his hair - she takes his mouth with hers like she's evangelizing. Pushing everything she has into him and he can feel it. More than a physical something. More than her fingers pressing into the pulse at his neck. More than his cock getting hard again and this time it settles right between them.

He finally breaks the kiss only to ask her if she knows he can feel her clit every time it quivers against him. He only asks because he wants to feel it again.

Boyd’s good at talking. Beatle loves it. 

He asks her so many filthy things. Things he'd never got away with asking someone else. Boyd knows there's not much you can't get away with saying with a whisper and a southern accent, but this… this was new even for him.

He wasn't sure what came over him. Why he needed her to know that he's been pretty sure he can tell when she's thinking about giving him head. About the glazed over look in her eye and how her mouth hangs open a little wider than she probably thinks it does when she's staring.

Or why he has to tell her that his cock was hard the whole time he had his gun on her the first night they met.

And he's not going to fuck her but he sucks on her tits like they've been eucharized. He can't stop talking because he can't get enough of every little fucking reaction.

Boyd figures out what it is when he's in the middle of telling her about how he knows her pussy is pretty and pink and the same color as her lips and how, he knows it's bad, but sometimes when she's talking to him all he can think about is what his cock would look like pressed up against her teeth -  Beatle's body seizes on him a little bit different than it had been seizing before; and it all just clicks.

Getting a reaction from her was like breathing. Nothing in his life had ever come so easy. Or so fun. 

She was letting him play with her. 

All his silly little mind games everyone else hated so much. She liked it. Not in the way he’d meant for her to like it. 

She liked him. Actually. 

He's really not sure why he told her about cumming on her pajama pants before he threw them out. He was sure he'd take that one to the grave. But he tells her about it while jerking  off onto her stomach because he wasn't going to fuck her but he needed to cum again. 

And she eats the mess from her fingers from her belly and Boyd is certain he's allowed to be in love. 

✞

Boyd had reasoned himself through a lot of things. Justifying almost anything. This? This he was having a hard time with. All he had going for him is that she'd liked it.

That she asked for it again afterwards.

Because when Boyd wakes up and the sun is peaking through the trees he can finally really see what her tits look like. Half falling out of her top. And when he reaches down to touch her there, her lips part. He thinks about how her pussy is the same color as her mouth and he thinks about how he told her that and how she reacted and he can't stop his hands even if he wanted to.

That's what he tells himself. He's reading her blind like a set of runes, it's not his fault her body is calling him this way. And she's reacting. So how could he stop? He can't. 

He's not sure if she's sleeping or pretending to sleep and he'd be lying if he said he thought that hard about it. Hard enough to care. His fingers dip between her legs and even through her underwear he can feel it. Sticky and warm and hers. 

Boyds hands seem to know what to do the same way his mouth does. Working the fabric of her panties down just slowly enough to not move her. He didn't want to fuck her he just wanted to feel it. 

She spreads her legs for him a little, laying on her belly; another miracle. Another sign he shouldn't stop himself. The Lord was working through him. 

This time he knows he's full of shit but he's rubbing his cock along her soaked lips and he can feel her clit tremble again and he doesn't feel bad when he pushes into her.

Her eyes jolt open like he'd been waiting for and the look on her face is an expression he doesn't think he's ever seen before. Something like fear and trust. Something someone like Boyd could get addicted to. 

He fucks her into the ground. He wants to look at her face again so he pulls her head back by her chin. She meets his gaze like she'd been waiting for it. This. To look at him like this while he fucked her.

She bows her head and takes his fingers into her mouth. She tries to move her head and Boyd knows exactly what the fuck she wants so he gives it to her. Fishhooking his fingers into her cheek while he backs up and off her a little. Sitting her up on her knees before pushing her shoulders back down again. 

Boyd knows how to get what he wants. He wants to go watch himself disappear inside of her. 

He'd almost forgotten where they'd started this, but when he remembers he has to stop himself from finishing then…. Just barely pushing into her again and it reminds him of that first time. 5 minutes ago when she was asleep.

Boyd can't stop thinking about how she'd woken up wanting him. This desperate. This wet.

That he could make her want it even when she couldn't know anything.

She opens her fucking mouth one fucking time and it's to tell him to fuck her pussy like he fucking owns it. And it was kind of corny and it didn't quite hit as well as he thought something she could say during sex would and he's not mad or anything but she adds ��because you do.” and Boyd buckles. 

Falling on top of her body like her words hit him he holds her still as he ruts up into her. It's desperate and vulnerable and yet still completely overpowering. He tells her to say it again and she says the whole thing. He tells her no just the last part and she

Starts professing just how much he fucking owns her pussy. How it's never been for anybody else, from the second she saw him she wanted him. She felt him there, she always wanted to feel him there. Deep in her fucking cunt because it fucking belonged to him. 

He asks her whenever he wants it?

She repeats him in breathless moans as he slows his pace

He asks her even if she's sleeping.

She tells him that she’s never been more turned on in her whole life.

He asks her why

Because he took it without asking.

Because he knew it was his.

Boyd cums so fucking hard he's vaguely aware that he's hurting her. Pressing her into the ground and she can't breathe but he knows she'll be okay in a second and he knows she doesn't care. He knows she prefers it this way. Even if she hadn't said it.

✞

For the next two weeks Boyd fucks her in just about every way he can think to fuck her. All the things he's ever wanted to try. Like waking her up by stretching her out. He can't believe he's never been able to wake someone up like that before.

He can't believe how much he likes it.

Responding to her body and giving it what it wants when she can't even speak. He's sure it's is favorite thing that they do.

He does things with her that he’d never actually considered before, too.

He plays pretend with her. Not in front of the others but they'll go out to the creek and he'll baptize her and they fuck in the water or on the edge or against a tree. 

Or Beatle gets down on her knees like she's really praying and pretends to be confused when his cock head pokes at her mouth asking what he's doing and he gets to play along and say it's what the good Lord itends for her.

One time he laid her down and they pretended that as her pastor it was his holy duty to impregnate her with Christ.

Boyd didn't know he would get off on this shit. He's certain he wouldn't be if it wasn't with her. Who's mouth was so believable and reactions so pure - he doesn't have to wonder anything. 

She likes it or she doesn't and she always fucking likes it. 

✞

The sky is hazy and it looks like it might rain. Beatle asks him if he has any family and Boyd doesn't really know what to say. He doesn't want to lie but he doesn't want to talk about it.

He tells her no.

She asks if he's lying because he doesn't want them to meet her.

Boyd’s heart pangs again like it did when she'd kissed him that first time. All desperate and real and alive. He shakes his head and tells her no. She was too good for them.

He can tell she doesn't believe him. But saying nothing is better than saying more. And he knows she'll let him get away with not answering this one.

He tells her it doesn't matter anyway because he's pretty sure he loves her. And it's the first time he says it but it's not the first time he's felt it. Beatle believes him. 

Boyd is pretty sure she's never believed those words in her whole life before now. 

His heart pangs again.

✞

Bo Crowder was a scary sonofabitch. That's what Beatle said under her breath as he was walking up to their camp. Boyd’s glad she said it quiet because she didn't know how right she was.

She didn't know that was his daddy.

She knew about the meth shipment he was yelling about. Something he normally wouldn't have told her, even though it wasn't a secret necessarily. Something about wanting to protect a woman from the dangers of this world. 

But Boyd needed Beatle. He trusted her. She was part of this with him. He didn't want her the way he wanted all of the rest and he wanted all of the rest to know it too. Something about making her feel like she was someone. 

He knew he was saying and doing things at just the right times to make her feel special. But it's not like he didn't mean them. She treated each one like a fucking gift. Each public display, every private whisper. Every touch of their fingers and especially every time he buried himself inside her.

✞

It occurs to him on his walk through exile, while his people were no doubt being strung up and taken away by lawmen, that he doesn't think he can live without her. Well, at least that he doesn't want to. He reasons he shouldn't have to. 

She didn't break any laws anyway and Raylan will probably hand her over personally when her record comes back clean. He'd asked her and she said she had no charges she'd known of. She'd know. 

So, be patient. Wait it out. He runs through it again, in his head, all the stuff his daddy said. That they were gonna have them dig up the guns then tie em to a tree and call the feds.

He said a lot of other stuff too. About not being a son not being a leader not being nothing. Boyd was always sure he was nothing so none of that shit felt like anything. The first few blows his daddy makes his cousin give him don't feel like much of anything either.

Seeing Beatle’s face is what does it. He's sure he's rocked a few more times but he doesn't remember anything after seeing her look at him like that. 

✞

Boyd tries not to remember Beatle for the way she looked at him then. He tries really hard to remember the few seconds he'd gotten to touch her hand before his daddy shot that gun one last time at him to get out of there. 

He wishes he remembered it better but it's so fuzzy and barely there. He wishes his cousin would have just fucking beat him to death. He wishes that one prick ass degenerate addict piece of shit good for nothing follower who snitched out where the guns were would come back to life so he could rip apart every bit of him.

Because she'd probably still be alive. Boyd’s sure of it. If he'd died instead she'd be alive and the world wouldn't fucking feel like this. 

✞

For a while he has delusions that it’s the Real Deal out and out End O’ Times. That with her went all the light and all the good because he just couldn't seem to reason why.

Couldn't his daddy see she was special?

Couldn't he see that she was divinely made for him? 

That their love could have changed the world. 

It could have changed him.

Boyd can't reason with his daddy because he's dead too.

✞

After even longer Boyd convinces himself he was full of shit the whole time. That Beatle was just some girl he stuffed his cock into to feel good about himself while he was reintegrating back into society. 

Just some junkie, and if she was still alive she'd be back to using again. They wouldn’t have been anything because Beatle wasn't anyone.

She thought she was special, but don't they all? 

Boyd doesn't think about it much anymore. When he does he only lets himself think one thing.

She couldn't have been real. Not the way he thought she was. He must have been wrong about her and he would have figured it out eventually. 

He can't let himself think about her the way she really was.

The memories of her then are remembered by no one. Not a soul on this earth. Not even the ground they fucked on or the pond he made her piss in so he could watch. Not even in the stump that she'd carved their initials into because Boyd went back and he cut it all apart so sure that wasn't real either. 

He keeps being so sure it wasn't real.

He convinces himself that some initials carved in a tree is just something childish and stupid and that's why he destroyed it. He convinces himself that it wouldn't have broken her heart.

He’ll convince himself of just about anything to keep from thinking about what it felt like to be loved. Because that's what it was, right? Love? 

So he doesn't think about her. Or then. Or what happened and what didn't. 

✞

It's the gunpowder. Every time it starts to sting up his sinuses he can feel her hair soft against his lips. And every time he closes his eyes and he remembers her. What it felt like to realize she was up there with the rest of them.

Maybe someday Boyd will let himself remember what it felt like to love her. He worries that by the time he’ll be ready he won't remember what she looked like anymore.

What she felt like.

He already forgets most of the stuff they'd talked about. He just knows she was special. He knows no one else would get it anyway. Why he wanted to let himself be stuck there forever. In those words. Dying. How three weeks could feel so much bigger.

Boyd keeps going out there despite how much he convinces himself he's not thinking about her. Everything time he smells the gunpowder. 

He keeps finding reasons to use his gun. 

Because even though in that memory she's dead it's the realest one he's got. 

He doesn't think about her dead.

If he absolutely has to, laying down in the dirt where the camp used to be, he thinks about the way she looked when he'd told her he was pretty sure he loved her.

Sometimes he thinks about her mouth or her body or the way she always seemed to know what to do with them - but mostly he just thinks about the way she looked at him. Praying to be a better man for the next time around this life because she deserved more than God would allow him to give. The choices he had made previous to loving her had tainted his soul. Turned it rotten and poisoned her before he'd barely even gotten the chance. She'd paid for his sins. So he prays next time he meets her without any. 

Boyd wishes just one time he would lay down out here and not get up. 

He leaves the woods, convincing himself he was full of shit with her the same way he was full of shit with everyone, the memories of her die again, and he forgets about her until his subconscious finds some reason for him to fire a gun.

Any reason.

Boyd remembers enough about her to know she'd have liked that.

✞

A/n; it wasn't really proofread? (Well it was but I'm not very good at it) ALSO idk about this writing style either, i know it's kind of different? And in my opinion probably more juvenile but I had fun writing it this way. 🤷🏻‍♀️

(I'll make a different post about where I'm at with my wips~)

[all-pacas]

ok i was trying to nap because i'm sick and i couldn't sleep and instead i was thinking about house medical doctor. and like. ok. chase is my special favorite, right? i want to punch him in his face, right?

-

I was thinking, though. It's easy to… smooth over and buff out characters to make them more appealing. To focus on traits and interpretations that you like. And to be clear I do think Chase has a lot of good qualities, both in terms of being a likeable character (he's clever! He doesn't take himself that seriously and isn't ego driven, unlike many others in the cast!) and being a fun character to watch (he's always pulling weird faces or being sarcastic!).

But he also has some real fucking character flaws, so let's talk about them. Because I want to. Because I don't like smoothing people out to fit a Narrative. I want to talk about his apathetic moral vacancy.

Like. Chase is apathetic. He truly and honestly doesn't give a shit about other people a lot of the time. He's not aggressive about it, he's not cruel — he tends to be fairly polite, although he's not great at hiding it ("the nurse's phone can take pictures!" "………cool"), he doesn't often talk shit. When he dislikes a patient, he at least tries to hide it (contrast with Foreman, who genuinely sucks at this). But that doesn't mean he cares. He is absolutely fine with lying to patients (Post Mortem), or with billing people for tests and not telling them (Safe). He doesn't care if that's shady. He's super ethically flexible, is the only one of the fellows to be openly pro euthanasia, has zero moral issue with treating Dibala. This clearly isn't because Chase believes so strongly that being a doctor should make you neutral to petty political beliefs, he just… doesn't care much. It doesn't bother him. I don't think he'd go out of his way to be harmful or cruel to someone, but he also isn't going out of his way to help them either.

While we do see him advocating for his patients and getting involved now and then (mostly with children), he never really has any moments where he takes a stand or fights for someone. Cameron, by contrast, does this constantly (The Itch, Acceptance, Fidelity…). Foreman also has several episodes (Fools For Love, Whac-A-Mole, a lot of his S3 development tbh) where he finds and bonds with and over-invests in a patient. The closest Chase ever comes to "getting way too involved in someone's life because he cares" is Moira in Chase, and she's preeeetty explicitly called out as him rebounding and acting out; he's doing the Wilson-Amber reinvent yourself after trauma thing, and it wears off pretty quickly. In Cameron and Foreman's cases too, it's more about their personal issues than the patient in question… but Chase's situation was really about him.

Speaking of being morally vacant! When Cameron might be infected with HIV (Hunting), he expresses some concern and House immediately mocks him for being fake. I don't actually know that it was (he certainly keeps up the thread of suggesting she should take some time off, he's not just being performative), but it's telling that the first reaction to Chase showing concern for anyone is "lol, who are you kidding?" Cameron accuses him later that of not being a good guy. She wants to get laid and live life on the edge, and the person that jumps to her mind when she wonders "who would be down for doing me on meth" is Chase. Nor is she wrong. Chase is an opportunist. Tritter calls him one, and Tritter is correct. He rats to Vogler to save his job, and is barely sorry for it; I'm not sure he ever apologizes. Everyone expects he'll immediately run to Tritter and a huge source of tension in Finding Judas is that Chase can't win: Foreman and Cameron already assume he has, that he's too spoiled and weak to not. Later in S3, when Cameron propositions him, he again goes "free sex?" and signs up, despite calling her out on what a demeaning offer she's making. He tends to pick the easier options. He stays a diagnostics fellow for years longer than anyone else, because it's a safe space. It's easy. He'd rather be a follower than take any risks. (I think there is no room for a reality where he refused his dad's money out of spite or pride. Why would he refuse a trust fund? It's easy. It's right there.)

We actually do see him lash out and stand up for himself here and there. He pushes back against Cameron a few times, actually (Act your Age, Saviors, Teamwork), and he's also pushed back against Foreman and House. But it's only for himself. I can't think of a time he went far out of his way to defend one of his coworkers, or his boss, or a patient. He did get mad enough to, uh, kill, when Dibala threatened Cameron. Which: fair enough? But he doesn't care much for things outside of his immediate influence. He has no problem shrugging off Cuddy in Living the Dream, or an armed gunman in Last Resort. He has no moral stances or political beliefs that we know of (besides, uh, fat people suck and the US immigration system is annoying). He very much does care about people, he's pretty clear that at least some of his apathy is a defense thing after a deeply fucked up childhood, but it's always despite himself. He prefers to do his job and go home. There's an old not-joke about how all surgeons have god complexes. Chase being a surgeon is kind of a retcon, and in a lot of ways he doesn't fit the stereotype — he's not particularly arrogant or superior, he's not even ambitious. He does get touchy about being called wrong, or accused of making mistakes, but I don't think he's any worse than the others on that front (or more prone to making mistakes). But that indifference? His sort of general aloofness? He cares about himself, and his little circle, and watches his own back, and that's it. He doesn't dislike other people, but he doesn't care much either way. Foreman accuses him of being fake. Everyone accuses him of being morally vacant, an opportunist who will do anything if it improves his own situation. And… yeah. Kinda.

[nightlyrequiem]

Be Still My Heart

Chapter 3- Trials and Tribulations

Masterlist AO3 Next Previous

New Chapter Every Saturday

You're the best in the meth industry but a new product suddenly pops up. You and your boss, Valeria, must figure out who is making it so you can take back the market. All the while tension is building between the two of you.

A/N: I have a job interview on Monday! Hope I get the job, but also the idea of working is filling me with dread! But also, I need to start saving up for university! And I need to get my application ready by early October! The only stress relieving activity I have is my writing now.

Tags/Warnings: Illegal Substances, Boss Employee Relationship, Angst, Some Hurt/Comfort, Violence, Manipulation, Suggestive Themes, Smut (But Only in CH19.), Dual POV

The incessant buzzing of the obnoxious florescent lights rarely bothers you, but tonight they're giving you a terrible headache. One that started at the back of your neck and slowly migrated to behind your eyes. A steady, painful throb. Your back is growing sore from how long you've been hunched over your desk, one hand holding up your head, the other lazily scribbling down words and numbers. A growing pile of discarded papers ripped from your notebook mock you from the red tiled floor. A physical reminder of your inability to come up with something satisfactory. You should take a break, you know this, but you fear stopping will disrupt your flow.

And what a great flow it is. It has more in common with a trickle of rainwater beside a sidewalk than it does with a roaring river. You didn't think it would be so hard to add more sugar to a meth recipe, but you're unsure if it will even mix correctly with some of the other ingredients. There's also the matter of its state. Should you melt it? Just pour it in the mix as is? You sit straight and stretch. Raising your arms and twisting your back. There's a dull crack and a slight pinch in your lower spin but the stiffness is alleviated for the time being.

You're feeling stressed about this. What happens if you can't figure out a way to correctly mix the sugar in? You frown, which only worsens your headache. Everything was so simple when all you had to worry about was making the meth high quality. Now you have to contend with new mixtures. You're not even a real chemist, you just took a natural shine to it in high school and didn't do anything more with it. Now instead of honing in on your natural understanding of the chemical world and working with scientists on vaccine or medicine or literally anything actually important, you're hidden away down in an underground lab cooking meth for a drug lord.

The metal door creaks open, and you hear light footsteps approaching. Turning to look you see Corra and her full head of curls approaching you. She smiles easily, full lips pulled back to reveal slightly uneven teeth. It's one of those contagious smiles that make you smile back despite your mood. 

"You've been down here for hours." She remarks, leaning against the wall. Corra looks around, surveying the space. "Do you even have a bathroom down here?"

"I pee in a cup." You deadpan. Corra just looks at you, brows furrowing. You feel the need to clarify. "I'm joking."

"Oh." She huffs, breaking out into a small, relieved grin.

Corra leans over your shoulder to peer at your mess of notes.

"What's all that?" She asks you.

"I'm trying to come up with a different recipe for my meth." You sigh. "There's something new going around the streets and it's sweeping through our customers like a disease." You feel a fresh wave of bitterness. At first you marveled at the creation of the orange substance but now you're just pissed off. You're sure it's not originating from Las Almas which means it's big enough to hop cities, states, maybe even the border.

"Looks complicated." She frowns. "You must be so smart to be able to do all that."

You don't feel very smart. If you were, maybe you wouldn't be down here still trying to properly form ratios. "Thank you, Corra." You respond politely. You've learned to just accept compliments even if you don't really believe them. It makes conversations so much easier.

Corra walks up to the large metal cooking contraption and lifts a finger up, caressing the cool surface. You can make out her distorted image on the side. The curving metal dulling her colours.

"How does it work?" Corra inquires. Turning to look at you.

"Uh.. well." You stand up. "I have to measure out the ingredients carefully then mix them together in a certain order." You explain. "Then I pour the liquid solution into this-" You tap two fingers against the metal container. A dull thudding ringing out in the room. "-It heats it and after a couple of minutes travels through those pipes were it slowly drips into the pan. The crystals grow from the dripping liquid."

Corra nods but there's a pinch to her brows that tells you she's still confused. You don't blame her.

"Sounds like a lot of work." She murmurs. "Pretty impressive."

You smile at her praise. It's simple work when you do it enough times. "Thanks."

"Want to go to dinner with me on Friday?" Corra asks suddenly. Looking too casual for someone who just asked another person on a date.

"Like as a date?" You furrow your brows. Feeling nervous now.

"Yeah."

You consider Corra. It's not every day that a pretty girl shows interest in you. You don't exactly feel all that much for Corra, but you think you could. Love is supposed to come when you least expect it, and you certainly aren't expecting it.

"...Sure, yeah okay." You nod. Corra flashes you that smile again and nods, the curls along her face bouncing at the action.

"Great, see you Friday." She turns and walks out of the lab, leaving you to consider her words.

You're getting older. You're not thirty yet but it won't be too long before you are. Not that thirty is old but considering how aged and weathered you feel now... you don't want to think about it. Your dating pool is sad and dry. Not even a puddle. It could be because of how reclusive you are, or the fact that you live in a small town so the population of sapphic women is limited, but you aren't even approached by men either. Not that you want to be, but you aren't sure as to why no one seems interested. Corra is though. You've still got it. You regain your bearings and turn back to your notes. Your headache has reduced into a barely noticeable ache, making it easier for you to think.

after another few grueling hours, you finally finish up three experimental ratios to present to Valeria. You lean down and gather the heap of papers and dump them. You clean up your space, even though you're bone tired and ready to go home and sleep. You gather your notebook and other personal items and make your way to the exit.

You stop at Valeria's office, but she isn't there. You're so used to seeing her sat behind that old desk that your mind blanks at her absence. You turn around and walk down the hall with uncertainty. Unsure of where to find her. You roam around for a while before finally swallowing your nerves and asking one of the grunts. You feel uncomfortable around them. Admittedly, it's a little silly of you to be. Their tatted arms and white wife beaters and chains rouse suspicion in you, despite the fact that you both work for the same evil woman. You're told Valeria is up on the roof so that's where you go.

You walk out onto the roof and see Valeria standing at the railing. Smoke billows from the lit cigarette between her fingers. You approach and begin to speak but stop when she startles.

"Jesus!" Valeria eyes you. 

"Sorry." You reply absently. Valeria shakes her head in response.

"We need to put a bell on you." She remarks. "You're disturbingly quiet."

You like the way those words make you feel. "I finished a few recipes for the sugar meth." The sky is darkening. The last of the sun's rays spill over the tops of the mountains in the distance. Lighting up the dusty, orange desert. Not much can survive out here. Besides thorny bushes and tall, spindly cacti. Of which their shadows stretch over the landscape.

Valeria nods. She's relaxed tonight. There's no rigid tension in her shoulders, even her usual scowl has been smoothed away into a resting frown.

"That's good." Valeria says appraisingly. "I appreciate how quick you are with things. I wish the other idiots here would share your work ethic."

Her words amuse you. The corners of your eyes crinkle ever so slightly to show it. "If only."

"I want you to stay late on Friday." She says. "I want you to walk me through the process."

You're about to agree out of habit because you usually don't have anything else going on. Then you remember you have a date.

"Oh. I can't actually..." You say awkwardly. Valeria fixes you with a frown. Dark brows pulled together.

"Why not?" She more so demands an answer than asks for it.

"Well I have a date." You reply. Feeling a little proud. See? You're desirable.

You almost expect Valeria to be dismissive or just not care at all, but she goes quiet. She looks surprised and a little something else you can't quite name.

"Oh." She finally says, her voice sounding oddly pitched, like she's attempting to be nonchalant and failing. "Stay late on Saturday then." She drops her cigarette and snubs it out with her boot just a little too roughly.

"Okay, thank you Valeria." You say. Assuming she's pissed because you're choosing your personal life over work. Well, she'll just have to deal with it.

"Mhm." She turns away, disinterested. "Have a good night."

You offer your own farewell and leave. Feeling a little ruffled by her sudden coldness.

[grilledfishballad]

hey why is jesse transfem

Breaking Bad has a multitude of themes and real life issues it tackles but one of the ones I think people point out the most is toxic masculinity. One if my favorite scenes in the show is Gus basically manipulating Walt into working for him because a man is "supposed" to provide for his family. Honestly the characters this impacts the most is prolly Jesse

Jesse is practically forced into all the cartel meth kingpin shit by Walt right from season one. She was already cooking pre pilot but it was just. Like. Street level stuff. Throughout the whole show Jesse struggles to fit in with the rest of the male cast, being seen as weaker nd ultimately more "feminine." Jesse and Jane's relationship really highlights this, with Jane often taking control of a situation while Jesse stands back. Jane calling Walt and demanding Jesse gets her money plays out exactly like He Asked For No Pickles. Walt even quips at Jesse in the same scene for not wearing the pants in the relationship lol

The meth business is too evil and masculine and this poor girl does not fit in and she is being forced to be someone she's not and it is slowly killing her and idk if estrogen would save her but it might make things a lil better

[slocumjoe]

ways people write the companions that make me go hmmm

Gage excluded because I haven't seen enough portrayals of him

Cait; Poor Cait has such confusing, odd writing choices that I can’t blame anyone for doing this, but...when she’s boiled down to either Tough Irish Gal or Traumatized, with little dimension. Again, Bethesda does this themselves in text, depending on ??? so it’s not, like, a big deal. My advice for writing Cait is to remember that she exists outside of being Irish or Traumatized. She’s read/read about Freud, for example. So, she presumably learned to read, likely self-taught. If she read something psychology related, she must have taken an interest in it. That sort of thing. The best way to write Cait is to not take the obvious answer, because Cait’s depth itself isn’t obvious.

Curie; When people write Curie as a stupid, horny, smol bean 2 gud 4 dis world, i throw up in my mouth. Same as Cait, this is Bethesda’s fault. They have a habit of going for funny dialogue instead of sensible. There is no reason for Curie to say half the shit she does, she says it because someone thought it was funny, or worse, sexy. I’d recommend going through Curie’s likes/dislikes and dialogue even more so than I do other companions. Curie has a lot of edges if you go looking for them. Y’know Covenant? Curie supports Covenant. Also, she’s literally a robot in a human body. She’s 200+ years old, too. Make her fucking weird. Y’know how elves/fae are? Like that. Bonus if you make her friendliness off-putting. Being friends with a doctor gets annoying, speaking from personal experience. Also, being a doctor, she knows all about sex and sexual pleasure. She’s not confused what a dick is

Hancock; please acknowledge other aspects of his character beyond horny, sad, or high. He has them, I swear. Do you even know his parents’ names? No. You care only about ghoul dick or stoner jokes. He’s not even a stoner, he does the Fallout equivalent of meth/adderall. Much like Deacon, he does and thinks about other shit. I joke with Hancock as well, but you might notice that none of my actual reacts/headcanons open and close with shit like “he huffs some jet with one hand, fingers you with the other, and thinks about how he sucks”

Danse; i promise you, Paladin Danse is not hypervigilant of people’s asses/tits/dicks/whatevers. He’s not imagining having sex with your busty Sole every time he looks at them. That’s not just not Danse, it’s also very creepy and dehumanizing to both Danse and Sole. Is Sole not more than their tits? Other companions get the too-horny treatment as well, but I see Danse getting it worse of all. Sometimes he’s written as absolute manchild regarding sex, knowing literally nothing, same as Curie. I say Danse doesn’t know what jerking off is as a joke, but he probably knows. But Chronic Virgin Danse is usually a light-hearted joke, Hypersexual Danse is just fucking weird. It gets into unhealthy territory. Like...Danse wouldn’t want to fight people flirting with his crush. He wouldn’t even get aggressive if he was dating Sole. He’s not a hotheaded asshole. Annoyed at best, rude at worst. It’s giving Fifty shades/Twilight/After. 

Deacon; You guys know that when Deacon takes a shit, he isn’t dedicating it to Barbara, right? He isn’t dedicating it to his own redemption, or saving synths? He isn’t thinking up a cool lie to make about the shit-taking? When he has a drink of water, he isn’t like, “Barb used to drink water.” or “The U.P Deathclaws drank water” or “I’m gonna say I killed a behemoth with a water bottle!” Deacon has other thoughts and motivations beyond the meme or the sad. I can’t judge too much, because Deacon himself would approve of being thought of like this, but good god. Just let the dude be a dude sometimes. Let him shit in peace. 

MacCready; might be because he’s the most solidly written, but very few complaints with most MacCready stuff. Him being a little perverted is in character, he’s 22. However, I have seen people straight up forget Duncan and Lucy. It’s okay, though. So did Bethesda.

Nick; Also usually solid, the most common crime is that aforementioned After Shades of Twilight writing. Nick is not a possessive dude. He’s even less likely than Danse to get aggressive over his partner. Yeah, sure, he’s a cop, but is that really the fantasy you want? Really? 

Piper; I have...famously strong opinions on Piper, but good god. Blue this, Blue that, I’m gonna write about this, this’ll look good in my paper, I’m putting this in the news. Oh my God. You’d think Sole was a fucking SMURF with how many writers call them Blue. You’d think Piper dragged her writing press behind her like Sisyphus heaving his boulder along. Same as Deacon and Hancock, SHE DOES OTHER SHIT. People bend over backwards trying to work in the fact she’s a reporter. Same as Cait, the obvious is not interesting. 

Preston; fuck the settlement jokes, I hate it when Preston is turned into an UwU soft boy baby cinnamon roll 2 gud 4 dis world UwU sunshine sweetie pie cutie. Whenever someone does this, they don’t actually like Preston. They have no thoughts, no feelings, they just...I don’t know, want to be contrarion to Preston haters? “Imagine not liking Preston, couldn’t be me ;333″ you realize this is racist, right? Like, you know infantilizing black men is racist? Oh my God you don't know this is racist

X6-88; SPEAKING OF FUCKING RACISM. The highest discourse I’ve seen around X6 is calling it ableist to HC him as autistic, but that is NOT the biggest issue with X6 writing. X6-88 is best described as, like, a very expensive, very spoiled cat of a rich, Old Money asshole. You know the Evil Stepmother’s cat in Cinderella? That bitch. That’s X6 in a nutshell. That’s how you write X6. I’m not even going to get into the racist ass portrayals of X6 because fuck is it tiring, just gonna leave you with this; X6 is best when you see his character for the humor and genuinely interesting philosophies in it, and not when you see him as a BDSM hardcore porn big dick sex god dominant daddy who likes spanking.