#and i had a metric ton of work to do

[arolesbianism]

Hello miss Marker Bills can I help you…?

[legobabyofficial]

well i have my kids stomach flu, made a fool of myself at work today, and want to die

[themirokai]

I got this comment on a story from my Other AO3 Account this morning.

(Info redacted because I prefer keeping these accounts separate but no one follows me on the side blog I have for that account.)

The story was posted almost a year ago and is relatively “popular” by my average statistics even though it has tropes and themes that are big turnoffs for a lot of people (hence separate accounts). This popularity is undoubtedly because it’s a Marvel Loki story and that fandom is massive.

So there is obviously an algorithm or a bot scrubbing ao3 statistics and leaving this comment on fics that meet a certain metric with the main character of the fic inserted into the comment.

I had a little time to kill this morning so I decided to investigate further. And y’all this is so predatory. Come on this journey with me. It made me mad. It may make you mad.

First, if you go to Webnovel’s website, you HAVE to choose between male lead or female lead stories before you can go any further. WTF?

And that’s weird, but this gets so much worse. This is basically a pay-to-read site that has different subscription models. Which… okay BUT! The authors don’t get paid! Look at that comment again. They’re promising a supportive and nurturing community, but zero monetary compensation. It’s basically, “post your stuff here so we can get paid and you can get… nice vibes?” I mean look at this Orwellian writing:

Using the phrase “pay-to-read model” in the same sentence as “qualitative changes in lifestyles for authors” deliberately makes you think that you can get paid and maybe even make a living on this website. But that’s not actually what it says and authors will not receive one red cent.

Oh but wait, the worst is still to come. In case this breaks containment (which I kind of hope it does) this is where I mention that I’m a lawyer in the US.

I don’t do intellectual property or copyright law but I do read and write contracts for a living. So I went to look at their terms of service. It was fun!

Highlights the first, in which Webnovel gets a license to do basically whatever they want with content you post on their site. This is how they get to be paid for people reading authors’ writing without paying them anything.

Highlights the second, in which Webnovel takes no responsibility for illegally profiting off of fan fic. This all says that the writer is 100% responsible for everything the writer posts (even though only Webnovel is making money from it).

Highlights the third which say that by posting, the author is representing that they have the legal right to use and to let Webnovel use the content according to these terms. So if a writer posts fan fiction and Webnovel makes money from people reading the fan fiction, and the House of the Mouse catches wise, these sections say that that’s ALL on the writer.

So that’s a little skeevy to start off with but the thing that is seriously shitty and made me make this post was that these assholes are coming to ao3. They are actively recruiting people in comments on their fan fiction. And they are saying they are big fans of the character you’re writing about and that they share your interests.

They are recruiting fan fiction writers and giving every impression that you can make money from posting fan fiction on their site and hiding the fact that you absolutely cannot but they can make money off of you while you try, deep in their terms of service which no one but a lawyer who writes fan fic and has some time to kill will read.

I see posts on here regularly from people who don’t understand how this stuff works, don’t understand that they (and others) can not legally make a financial profit from fan fiction. And there are tons of people who will not take the time to dig into the details.

Don’t deal with these bastards. Fuck Webnovel.

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[windvexer]

Hiya Chicken, hope all is well with you! Something’s been on my mind and I would love your perspective.

The thrust of it is: can the will of the universe (if there is such a thing) override spellwork?

For context, I lost my job earlier this year, and have been working some magic to get re-employed (along with a metric shit ton of mundane legwork). None of it has been fruitful, and in attempting to troubleshoot, I realized that several of my spells had conditions along the lines of “this new job will serve my highest and best self.”

I’m still a novice at casting – frankly, I’ve not had much success with *any* magic (😞) – so I’m guessing the more immediately pertinent issue has to do with raising power/magical headspace. But, I’m curious if that nebulous “highest and best” would get in the way of producing results.

Also, where exactly does that language originate?? I think I’ve seen it when people talk about petitioning the universe for guidance, or getting in touch with your purpose/path in this life, but is that from a certain tradition or set of beliefs? And if everyone has a pre-determined purpose (or something else that counts as becoming your highest and best self), would including such a statement cause spells to fail if whatever you’re casting for doesn’t align with that purpose? Because real talk, my unemployment has run out and I don’t have time to wait for the highest and best job any more.

Thanks so much for your time, I appreciate you!!

It's New Age.

FUCK your highest/best self.

Even if it exists it can go suck a room temperature limp pickle.

Bear with me my guy. Let's be bears together, peacefully watching the sunrise of this idea over the serene forests of wisdom:

What in the good fuck is the point of being a witch if not to DO WHAT YOU WANT TO DO REGARDLESS OF WHAT THE SHIT UNIVERSE HAS DELEGATED FOR YOU.

It is changing fate.

It is CHANGING FATE.

WITCHCRAFT IS CHANGING FATE.

THEREFORE HOW CAN YOU DO THAT IF YOU JUST ASK THE UNIVERSE TO KEEP DOING WHAT ITS DOING?!

"Hi I believe in this life I have been assigned a True Goal and Best Outcome. I don't know what it is! The Universe could decide it's in my best interest to never escape poverty so my soul can learn some shit. But whatever this Best Outcome is, I will obey it :) blindly :) Spells, go do my bidding! But not if they change my fate. I'm on those train tracks, baybeee. Full speed ahead towards the same place I've been going since birth."

YOUR SPIRITUALITY FOR HOW YOU CHOOSE TO STRIVE TO BE A GOOD PERSON, AND THE PERSONAL WORK YOU DO TO BETTER YOURSELF, SHOULD PROBABLY BE INTENTIONAL I BET.

What is your highest good? Because I kind of feel like you shouldn't leave that up to a nebulous force you don't understand. My guy, and I mean this in the best possible way, you don't even know the widely popular faith (New Age) these beliefs are coming from. I don't think you understand this concept of The Universe; and yet you seem to be willing to place your fate in its hands.

And I think you may also be horrified by the realization that you are ceding autonomy of your ambitions, your goals, your needs, even the very core of your morality, to some fucking Power or Presence or whatever.

What is your highest good? I'm sorry, I mean this genuinely - you do not get to let someone else decide that for you. We all have to read some philosophy and smoke weed and look at the stars with friends and decide for ourselves what it means to be a good person who lives well. Many of us will grapple with this our entire lives.

There is no shortcut. You can't be your best self by doing whatever you want and delegating the decision making to some outside force, hoping that a smarter and more benevolent power will just cancel out any bad decisions you make based on a rubric you don't understand.

If we do have Highest Selves and soul evolution, I do not believe we can evolve based on always letting someone else make the final call for us.

YOU CAN HAVE GUIDANCE. You can have help. You can have plenty of it!!

That's what the witch's familiar is for. That's what tutelary spirits are for. That's why so many people turn to gods for guidance. You can research someone, or ask for a specific kind of help, and say, "hi I want to cast a job spell but I don't know sorcery great, can someone help me craft this so that I don't end up doing something disastrous?"

That's what I do all the time! I'll be about to do some stupid shit about twice a week, but the spirits who love me and help me are like, "Hey! please do not do that sweaty :) That would be Bad," and I listen to them, because they are not nebulous faraway forces; they are my very good friends whom I have known for years and trust completely.

But at the end of the day, they can't make decisions for you. A very creepy truth, that I believe is actually true, is that gods and spirits of Witchcraft will not make decisions for you. They will not cancel out spells if it's not in your "highest good." They will let you do anything you want in your own worst interest.

They will help you and they will guide you. But it's like I said: you can't end up being your best self by doing whatever and hoping someone else picks up the slack.

I don't think it's possible to ever achieve any highest good or best self by never making an actual decision.

And that's what it is, I think. That's what it is when you say, "let me have a job if someone else thinks it's a good idea."

That's not your decision. That's not your choice. That's not your power. That's raising your hand in the back of class and hoping teacher will call on you.

Fuck the Universe. Fuck the highest good. How about some of that live deliciously shit? When do YOU get to eat? Your highest self must be stuffed at the table of delicacies harvested from every moment of your life that you sacrifice to it while you are here with your unemployment run out.

Look in The Universe's eye and tell it to start calling you daddy.

Command. Do not ask, do not intend. Force; compel. Dominate.

next I visualize that the candle is full of prosperous energies if Earth-Goddess wills it in my highest good- NO.

"Listen to me. Listen to me, Earth. Listen to me, Sky. Listen to me, my own Soul. For 27 goddamn years I have been doing whatever I think you want me to do. Now you're all going to do what I want to do. It is not my normal voice that speaks, but the voice of my power. The power within me laces every word, it seeps into the air like water into paper."

Do you feel like someone is suddenly squeezing you by the throat? Do words suddenly become hard to find? Do you feel a bit dizzy? Do you have a strange moment where you can't remember why you started any of this, like you're not sure how you got there? You're on the right track.

"On this day of Jupiter, on this hour of Jupiter, I am giving a command. I command that the magical pathways of this candle be opened, so that the free-flowing and freely given benevolent powers of Jupiter will empower and charge my spell."

(Do not command Jupiter, of course. We're engaging in a little courageousness, not trying to get struck by lightning)

"I do not need to visualize the movement of energies. I know the truth because I have commanded the truth and I am a creator god born into this flesh: The candle is filled with the power of a God, I have the ability to channel the freely-given power of one of the Seven Governors whom has been worshiped by humans since the start of time, it is here and I have claimed it as is my right, as was offered to me:

This candle spell will bring me the fate I desire, because I have designed that it will occur, and no god, spirit, beast, or man will stand in my way."

It should feel fucked up, my friend. It should give you stage fright. It should make your palms sweat and your stomach queasy. It should give you the same emotional sensation as having a heartbreaking conversation that you know will change a relationship forever.

Sorry, reality. Sorry, fate. It's just not working out. And since we can't get divorced, you two need to shape up your act because right now I'm in charge of this polycule. When the spell is over, we can be equals again.

And if you do it right, it should make you have to sleep for probably about a week. If your health allows it of course, I recommend not trying to restrict carb intake for the next few days. Keep headache medicine on hand also.

Thank you for being a bear with me. I hope you enjoyed this serene forest of wisdom.

[heyclickadee]

I think Crosshair’s arc is really, /really/ close to being resolved. It’s right there on the cusp of resolution, it’s not not completely there yet. He’s part of the family again, he knows he can rely on them, they know they can rely on him, he’s not beholden to his Kaminoan-built purpose as a soldier anymore—but I think there still needs to be one last step from him before his arc is really resolved. His trauma is all still there, and we never get any indication from him that he’s forgiven himself or that he no longer thinks he deserves to die, since the last thing we heard him say about himself is that he thinks he does. He doesn’t even get any lines after Tantiss. (And—honestly? I know I’m going to sound like a broken record here, but I actually think you need Tech around for this last bit of Crosshair’s arc to resolve itself, and that the reason it hasn’t resolved is because Tech’s not back.) We have no idea what kind of life he even wants to live now or how. So while I do think Crosshair’s arc is the one other thing that’s close to being resolved, I also think there’s still a little work to do there.

Sssooooooooo…

I turned “Aftermath” and “Cut and Run” on in the background during work yesterday, just to see how watching The Bad Batch would go—I didn’t actually watch it (because I did have to work) but I was listening, and:

1. I had a great time. Despite all my bitching about the finale, this is still may favorite show, it has an amazing 46 episode run, and I’m willing to change my mind on some aspects of the 47th episode if we get more context in the future. It’s because I think this is an otherwise phenomenal, remarkably well-written show that I am so disappointed with the last episode.

2. Slightly crazy, extremely hypothetical theory that I’ll have no way to prove or even defend for months to years, but if “The Cavalry Has Arrived” is really the end of this story, full stop, or was ever intended to be then there’s something that’s very structurally weird about the first two episodes. Basically—

I think this show has two pilots.

The first is “Aftermath,” which serves as the larger overall pilot, for this show or something more but, either way, for something that hasn’t resolved yet or hasn’t been given the chance to resolve.

The second is “Cut and Run,” which, right now, serves as the pilot for the only part of this story that has resolved—basically, Hunter finding a small, safe, out of the way planet where he can stop being a soldier and give Omega the chance to be a kid and have a normal life without the threat of Omega’s Kaminoan-built purpose looming over them. Everything else is completely wide open.

So I’m wondering if what we’re looking at is the end of the show (because it is the end of the show, I am not going down the Sherlock “ACTUALLY there’s a secret episode that’s the real finale” road, as much as I currently sympathize with the sentiment), but not the end of this story overall. Just the end of a chapter.

(DON’T put any stock in this, I’m just having fun theorizing. Overthinking is how I deal.)

[sorchathered]

Rewatched TGM tonight and I have some Bob thoughts (don’t I always?)

Look I love all of our interpretations of Bob, but when people write him like he’s some simple minded kid with no game I tend to get annoyed. Especially because of this-

Phoenix meets Bob and is FLOORED that the guy sitting in front of her is the Bob Floyd she’s heard of from Lemoore. She literally asks him like she’s not sure she’s hearing him correctly. There is a metric fuck ton of ego in the room at all times during this mission, but everyone came from their own places chosen because they are the best at what they do. So for me I interpret that as him just sitting back and letting the work show who he is, he’s not the type to brag but he definitely earned his spot. When hangman interrupts him about his callsign he’s annoyed but lets it go, any comment made his way or at the expense of others is met with a smart ass remark so he’s definitely not afraid to speak his mind. They don’t call him Big Ol’ Balls for nothing, the man is absolutely a bad ass. I hope Lew gets to come back for TG3 I’d love to see where he takes the character.

Ok rant over, I love my sassy glasses wearing nerd so much I just had to run my mouth for a minute.

[seat-safety-switch]

"Hey, buddy, you've been hogging the Supercharger® long enough," emits the carrier signal of a Tesla owner. They're right to be upset. Ever since they opened up their fancy DC fast chargers to every Tom, Dick, and Ford owner, what was once a hoity-toity elite parking lot full of American-made economy cars is now full of a bunch of weird shitbags trying to fill up their batteries.

My electric car? Pretty much the same as yours: a 1974 Plymouth Fury III, with the original smog-coughing low-compression 400-cubic-inch V8 engine replaced with nearly a metric ton of golf-cart batteries I borrowed from the local country club. Hey, they weren't using any of them in the middle of November when I cut through the fence. Not to mention it's unethical for anyone to hoard valuable resources that could be used to reduce emissions, such as I am doing (unless you count the fact that this vehicle is still, somehow, leaking 10w40 motor oil from somewhere.)

The system isn't perfect. For instance, the "fast charge" system is not particularly fast. This is because it's an old Canadian Tire 12-volt boat battery maintainer that I've riveted onto the hood, and tricked the Tesla system into talking to. As far as the computer inside it knows, it's just a really stupid SUV. Before you blame me for being a charge hog, you must also know this: it is keeping my decrepit Galaxy Note smartphone alive, which hasn't had a working battery in it since that whole airplane fire snafu. And in turn, that phone is playing an educational podcast, about climate destroyers. This, I believe, is what the Tesla owner is actually angry about, and not the fact that I have been "fast charging" for the last seventeen hours using a stolen credit card.

I ignore him. I have long ago learned that pedestrians talk a lot of shit, but are generally afraid to actually damage my car: an emergency tetanus shot, after all, is unpleasant and can cost upwards of $25. Walking back inside the donut store at which I am "parked," I ask the attendant to refill my bottomless coffee once more. Maybe I'll live here, I think. I don't want to go anywhere more than about five miles away from this charger from now on.

[demigodpolls]

Why do you think Frank gets so little attention from the fandom at large?

although I don't fault anyone individually for not having interest in a given character, I do think it's pretty sad that not much mind is paid to frank. it's not the best metric to measure things by, but on AO3, frank has the fewest fanfics of the prophecy 7 by a pretty wide margin.

there's no point in comparing him to the likes of percy, annabeth, and nico, who have existed for way longer, but the lost hero trio have well over 10k works for all three individually, while hazel has 8.7k (her popularity is surely bolstered by her relation to nico, the second most popular pjo character on ao3) and frank has about 7k. interestingly, will solace has over 15k fics--and that of course has to do with the popularity of solangelo (the second most popular pjo ship on ao3, as you see above), but considering how recently tsats came out (and how little material/information about him existed before that), I still think that number is pretty remarkable.

with all of this in mind, here are some of the reasons why I think frank doesn't get a ton of attention from the fandom below the cut.

- part of it probably has to do with shipping. while frazel is a well-accepted canon ship, I don't think it actually garners a ton of real interest. when a pairing is very popular, its individual parties will inevitably share that popularity; i.e., will solace, as observed previously. furthermore, frank doesn't really have any popular non-canon ships. online fandoms heavily favor mlm pairings over any other kind of pairing (this is just a very neutral, well-observed fact, so I hope no one is bothered by this acknowledgement), but if a male character is not popularly shipped with other men, they tend to fall to the wayside. to be honest, I think it's a little surprising that frank/leo doesn't get more favor; maybe it's because people just don't like to acknowledge the love triangle they were in, but the enemies-to-lovers material that people usually enjoy is right there, you know? jason/leo is fairly popular on tumblr at least, but no one really ships its SoN counterpart percy/frank either, which is interesting.

- part of it probably has to do with the fact that, compared to others, frank does not appear to be a very angsty character. fandoms tend to prefer characters who have tragic backstories and/or highly-animated personalities, and while frank undeniably has his individual struggles, they probably seem quite small compared to the bulk of the principal cast. for reasons like this, a lot of people will likely tell you that they don't find frank (or his powers) very interesting, and prefer to devote their attention to other characters.

- part of it probably has to do with frank (in my opinion) being neglected by HoO books. I wish he had gotten to do so much more! but of the things that he did do, I don't think many people consider them to be very memorable.

- I think there's also no point in ignoring the fact that frank is a chubby POC, and well, these types just aren't often so beloved by fandoms. that his only popular ship is with another POC probably doesn't help matters, to be honest...! it's just a well-documented phenomenon that, unless they're anime characters, POC characters and POC x POC ships tend to be much less popular in online fandoms than their white counterparts (i.e., 2010s star wars comes to mind). of all 10 percy jackson POV characters on ao3 (I'm including will in this figure and excluding apollo, who I consider an outlier), piper, leo, hazel, frank, and reyna make up the bottom 5 in that order in terms of popularity. this page is a great resource for more data on race, queerness, gender, etc on ao3. (unrelated - fascinatingly, percabeth is the 8th most popular m/f ship on ao3 of all time, and jiper is 96th!)

that's just my two cents as to why I think frank doesn't get a ton of attention. I hope no one is upset by my observations, I mean all of them in a pretty neutral, analytical way. to anyone else reading this, here is a reminder that character hate and ship hate is not tolerated on this blog. if you post unkind things, your comments will be deleted and your account will be blocked. we don't need to bash other characters or ships in order to uplift others. save it for your own blogs, please!

thank you for asking and engaging with this blog!

-demigodpolls

[journeyman-tier-fibercraft]

What if you wanted to knit but your body said "arthritis induced depressive episode ONLY" t-t

In my state of Not Knitting I've mostly been playing bideo wames but also decided to indulge in my favourite past time of reading multi million word Korean webnovels. One of said webnovels features a metric fuck ton of Hot Pink Yarn. And a man I'm very normal about knitting things for a man he's very normal about. Including a cardigan.

Do I in any way need a hot pink cardigan knit specifically to mimic the one from the novel? Absolutely not. But I Want It. (Also I've been wanting to knit a cardigan for like a year now and keep changing my mind)

In the novel, the yarn used is from a monster sheep that's later dyed hot pink. I'm not willing to use real wool for this, so instead I'm going with acrylic and got some of Hobbii's Fluffy Day in Deep Pink. Which is just an eye watering colour (canonically the hot pink yarn is painful to behold) and comes personally recommended from a friend of mine. I also got a roll of a glitter thread also sold through Hobbii in pink. Both to make the overall cardigan more obnoxious but also to give it more of a "this is wool from a monster sheep" and not just acrylic yarn.

As for the actual cardigan, it's described as a "Handmade Hot Pink Long Cardigan" "roomy and had big pockets" "(while a wip) an elaborate knitting pattern". There's enough wiggle room I can do basically anything I want with this. But my brain has latched on to the word "elaborate" and won't let go. So as soon as I get my hands on The Yarn, I'm going to swatch for this cardigan pattern published by Vogue Knitting.

It's quite possible this yarn does Not work for that pattern but I want to try it anyway just to suffer. And if it does work, I'll have to grade up the pattern, and potentially make changes to the length of the cardigan (I bought quite a bit more yarn than I thought I'd need just in case). But this pattern just Feels Right, the guy who knits is constantly wearing designer clothes so knitting an actual designer pattern is perfectly in theme. I've also been informed that the Fluffy Day yarn is incredibly warm so having a bit of open work would help with heat regulation.

If I complete this cardigan within the next ten years and have extra yarn left over I'll be sure to knit the matching hat (including a pom-pom), scarf long enough for several people to use, and fingerless gloves. All in hot pink so bright it's probably going to give me several headaches. Read S-Classes I Raised it's so good it'ssogood

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Hello, I hope you two are doing well! May I request “Orange Rose - experiencing constant as well as distracting thoughts of the other person” for Riddle? tysm I’ve been realizing how wonderful he is recently🥰🥰

Riddle Rosehearts:

Orange Rose - experiencing constant as well as distracting thoughts of the other person.

Riddle had never been more mortified in his life.

He felt like the blood had completely drained from his face, the red mark on his paper almost dashing his hopes of having a good day. To achieve a perfect score on his tests was everything; he didn’t believe himself to be the exact perfect being but he had studied for this, countless hours of memorizing to the point he knew the material like the back of his hand. This was a subject he excelled in (most were, but he enjoyed this one the most) and yet he was confronted with cold hard failure, the likes of which he had never seen.

Not just one point from perfection, but two entire points, a whole question with two parts answered incorrectly. He looked over his test countless times, reading through his text books to find where he might’ve strayed, before finally approaching his professor.

“Is everything okay, Riddle? You aren’t pushing yourself, are you?” He always pushed himself, but that wasn’t the point! He could handle pressure, he could handle a metric ton of work being thrown his way as well as countless responsibilities pushed on his shoulders, but this grade – it was a negative mark on his record, his future.

When he saw that question he knew exactly what had distracted him, the reason he had gotten the answer incorrect. You had been his partner for that particular project, spending hours of alone time as you did your research together. You were diligent but you had asked Riddle for guidance, knowing he was a person who was very specific about the way his ideas were presented, and he had been happy to help you figure out the best way to present your own ideas in your project. It hadn’t been all work, with some talk of desserts and his equestrian club mixed in, but Riddle had found himself enjoying that time spent together.

In fact he missed it, since the project had ended and there was no excuse to ask you to spend time with him any longer.

He knew he had gotten caught up in those thoughts, fumbling through the question quickly as he realized the ‘you’ in his head was distracting him. He wrote as fast as he could and in doing so had missed a specific word choice used in the question which entirely changed the meaning of it. He was used to dealing with tricks and being wary of language, his mother had taught him about the little details of linguistics, so he never would’ve missed it if he was in his right mind.

Riddle can’t hide his sour mood but thankfully, most of Heartslabyul stayed out of his way when they sensed something was wrong. He had never been more grateful to have an unapproachable resting face, wanting to simply lock himself away (though he could not, as there were still duties to attend and other students to look out for). When he finally had time to settle himself down he took out the test one last time, working himself up again about the less than perfect grade.

“Whoa!” Cater, who had innocently peered over Riddle’s shoulder to see what he was glaring at, was just as shocked as Riddle had been earlier than evening. “S-Sorry, I was just coming to let you know Trey is looking for you…”

“Hey, Riddle. Trein was asking me about you earlier—” Trey, the third musketeer and the straw that finally broke the camels back, came into the room a few seconds later, pausing when he saw Riddle’s clenched fist. He and Cater locked eyes, with Cater holding his hands up to signal he certainly wasn’t the reason Riddle was upset.

Neither third year knows what to say when they see the grade, and Riddle sighed, wishing to just be done with it. He moved the paper toward Trey who scrutinized it, reading the question, Riddle’s answer, before his eyes slowly drifted back to Riddle himself.

“This question… is quite simple for someone like you.” Cater felt like his lungs had collapsed, wondering how Trey had continued to exist if he was always so honest with Riddle. “Is there something on your mind?”

“I’m…not sure.” The fact he hadn’t exploded in that moment left Cater even more shocked, and he had to lean on a chair to keep his legs from folding underneath him. “I don’t believe I want to talk about it.”

“Maybe you should!” Cater tried to offer up helpfully, “You never know, maybe having a different angle can help clear your thoughts!”

“Exactly.” Trey agreed, pleased that Cater had backed him up. “Talk to us, and we’ll see if we can help.”

Riddle muttered your name once and it took the willpower of a thousand card soldiers to stop both Trey and Cater from laughing in shock at the admission. Trey had really thought Riddle would never spit it out but it seemed his own honest reaction had rubbed off on him, while Cater was still struggling to imagine Riddle with a crush.

Trey had never seen Riddle struggle to find words like he was now, his eyes downcast as he spoke quietly about the time you had spent together. Riddle had fun when you were together, fun, a word that he didn’t often use nor did he generally have the same definition as everyone else. To think that you evoked this kind of reaction from him, to the point he was dwelling on the time spent together and lamenting on how it had ceased was nothing short of a miracle in Trey’s eyes. He doesn’t voice it but he does believe this is the first crush Riddle has ever had, not remembering a single moment from their childhood where Riddle expressed interest like that in anyone.

“There doesn’t have to be a reason to hang, you know, but here we have unbirthday parties all the time! Why not try inviting them to one of those?” Riddle seemed to contemplate this, as it was something within his power. He would have to double check that none of the students had a birthday the following day, but if he played his cards right…

“Understood. Thank you for your advice.” Riddle stood without another word, exiting the room with his test in hand while Trey and Cater shared a look.

“Hopefully everything goes smoothly…”

“We should warn the first years. I have a feeling if anything goes wrong, the punishment might be worse than usual.”

[a-leg-without-fear]

I'm Not Good Enough🌧️

this movie was fucking ADORABLE i love it so much

Ship: Charlie Denton x gn!Reader

Rating: 13+

Wordcount: 994

Warnings: angst, alcohol, self-doubt, anxiety

Series: Leg's Tuna Tober

Chilled beer flowed past your lips as you drank from the green bottle. The fizz tickled at the back of your nose, bitter and biting, before gliding down your throat. Condensation clung to the glass and wetted your palms.

The digital clock on the end table to your left read "10:23pm," almost half an hour since Max had gone to bed. He would undoubtedly still be awake. That little trouble maker was always working on Atom, reading a booklet on robot boxing, or sketching away at his next big project. His mind never seemed to stop swirling inside his 10-year-old head.

You supposed he got that whirlwind of a brain from his father. Charlie was always two steps away from a nervous breakdown. Anxiety riddled his tired mind on an hourly basis. He'd constantly look to you for reassurance, whether it was about his parenting, his career, or simply how he treated you as a partner.

He sat to your right on the brown leather couch. Twin bottle of beer to your own clutched in his hand, body practically melted into the sofa, head resting back on the cushions with his eyes firmly shut. Wrinkles cracked his tanned skin in the corners of his eyes and the space between his furrowed brows.

"Doing okay?" you asked as quietly as you could, scared to break the uneasy silence that had settled ever since Max was sent to bed. The air in the cluttered living room was heavy with an unidentifiable unease.

Charlie shrugged as his hazel eyes fell open, "Usual bullshit. Don't worry 'bout me."

You sighed as you set your beer on the end table. An array of rings were stained into the light wood from countless nights spent drinking on the couch. Leather creaked under the weight of you shifting to face Charlie.

"I'm always worried about you, hon. What's going on?" you insisted with a gentle prod against his shoulder. He grunted at the poke, lazily swatting your hand away.

"Don't wanna bother you. Forget it," he muttered. Further worry lines creased along his face as he took a long drag from his beer bottle. His Adam's apple bobbed with each thick swallow.

A sigh blew from your pursed lips in a thin stream. Dating someone as anxiety-ridden as Charlie had its challenges. You tried your best to navigate through the raging tempest inside his mind, course-correcting his lost ship along the choppy waves, keeping him from sinking to the ocean floor.

Some days were easier than others. That metric ton of stress that weighed on his mind seemed to lighten, his smile wider, more energy spilling from his bright, hazel eyes. He'd be more willing to practice with Atom on the robot's boxing combinations or to guide Max through verbal commands.

Today was not one of those days.

"How about you tell me the first thought that pops in your head and we leave it at that?" you offered with a kind smile. Seeing your partner like this drove a grief-lined spear through your heart every time. Forced to watch as this extraordinary man folded in on himself, reduced to barely half of his size, as he wallowed in his racing heart and clouded brain.

Charlie considered your proposition for a few moments. He tilted his head back and forth, stretching the tense muscles lining his broad neck.

"Alright," he finally said. You sat up straighter amongst the couch cushions. Focus fully fixed on the man beside you, chin resting in your palm and eyes passing between each of his. He sighed, clearly uncomfortable with your undivided attention, then mumbled, "I feel like I'm not good enough. For Max... And for you."

You kept your expression neutral as his words slammed into your stomach like a sack of bricks. Swallowing the lump that'd gathered in your throat, you said, "What makes you think that?"

"I'm always like this. Always caught up in my own head, not giving both of you the attention that you need. That you deserve," Charlie nearly rambled, voice barely above a whisper. The words tumbled from him like stones dipped in sorrow.

"Both Max and I know that you have your quirks," you began in a joking manner, attempting to lighten the dreary mood, "No one's perfect, Charlie. No one expects you to be at 110% every single day. You're not one of our robots, you're a human. And a great father, at that. I see the way Max looks at you. That kid loves you so damn much. He's a smart kid, he understands what you're going through. Guess what? Doesn't make him love you any less."

The brief speech seemed to settle on Charlie's shoulders like thick snow. His breath shuddered, lower lip quivering, as he screwed his eyes shut, "Do you mean that?"

"Of course I do, hon. We both love you," you said softly while running a hand through his buzzed hair. The short strands tickled at the skin between your fingers.

He threw you off kilter as large arms enveloped you in a tight embrace. His pointed nose buried in your hair, beer long forgotten on the floor, arms squeezing you so tight you couldn't even dream of escaping. Not that you wanted to.

You were quick to return the hug, hands locking behind Charlie's back. Gentle hums leaked from your closed lips as you rested your chin on his shoulder. A little off-key, not quite matching the song you and Charlie had claimed as your own, but it comforted him nonetheless. He settled in your arms like a deflated balloon.

Anxiety is not an easy thing to deal with. It wracks one's mind with endless worry and near-paranoia at times. Makes one's heart race, their skin itching like it's on fire, stomach tying itself in knots. One day you'd get Charlie to see a therapist. Until then, you'd continue plotting his course through the hurricane and into your open arms.

screaming crying throwing up etc.

taglist: @just-a-nightdreamer @www-interludeshadow-com @venomqueen2002 @c1eepypas1a @amphitrite-5 @yarrystyleeza @lemurianstarship @theestorm

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[puttersmile]

Why I like Dogday x Bobby Bearhug

Working off of my last Crittertember post, posting the shipping manifesto for the four of you who are just dying to know, lol.

Part 1 of Post: Here. Just a lot of pictures.

I guess I should start with how I started liking the ship in the first place. As best as I can remember it started with a mildly intense obsession with the Smiling Critters after seeing them in Poppy Playtime Chapter 3. Their carboard soundboards specifically intrigued me. As a fandom we really had ziltch to work with so maybe I was hyper-analyzing their phrases to see if anything could be gleamed from them.

There isn't much unless we are meant to believe Picky is literally a cannibal. I don't think so? I think the voice lines have been corrupted by the metric ton of death that happened within the factory. Be it as it may, what little we fanon-ize about the critters, a lot of it is probably coming from those soundboards.

A post about this already exists on tumblr but at some random point I thought, "Weird Bobby Bearhug and Dogday's cut outs sound like they are talking to one another." Not sure how my brain jumped to that conclusion but it did. As seen in this post with some old oogly art I drew.

And then @meowcola made my dream come true by editing the two voices together. Yhaass! For this I am forever grateful to my fellow shipper.

I don't think any of the other critter's voice lines bounce off of each other as well as these two do (admittedly with slight editing), or even at all. But Bobby and Dogday's cutouts almost seem to have a conversation that don't work played against any of the others. Dogday trying to push someone away that he cares for and Bobby desperately trying to stay with someone she cares for.

Dogday's fall is he cares too much.

Bobby's fall is she doesn't care enough. For herself.

Obviously they are talking to the player actually but my fanon ship brain interpreted it differently. I guess from there, albeit a doomed one, I shipped this ship fairly hard.

The rest of this rambling essay under the cut:

Why I think they work:

Dogday and Bobby’s relationship is mostly about balance. While Dogday’s the brave and daring leader of the group (except when there's a thunderstorm—he tries), Bobby’s the physically strong yet practical one. She’s a total powerhouse,(literal mama bear energy) ready to protect when needed, but only as a last resort. Dogday loves how protective she is, and Bobby really appreciates his loyalty, especially since it helps with her self-worth issues.

One of Bobby’s biggest insecurities is that she believes she’s annoying to her friends. Even though it’s clear she’s not, in the back of her mind, she constantly second-guesses her actions. She’ll wonder if hugging someone is the right move in the moment or if she’s overstepping. Dogday, on the other hand, is someone who thrives on affection and would never get tired of Bobby’s hugs, making him the perfect counter to her uncertainty.

Both of them would share a strong sense of humor, which helps them face life’s challenges with optimism. Dogday is especially good at this.  They know how to lighten the mood and bring joy to each other’s lives, even when the weight of everything starts to creep in.

Bobby’s also got a knack for stepping in when Dogday forgets to take care of himself. She’s nurturing, and in return, Dogday reminds her she’s worth it, which she sometimes forgets. Though Bobby’s not Dogday’s second-in-command (that’s usually Bubba Bubbaphant), she’s the one Dogday confides in emotionally when leadership wears him down.

Over time, Bobby finds herself leaning on Dogday, too, sharing her deepest insecurities and struggles with him.

What really makes them work is how much everyone trusts Bobby. She’s the keeper of everyone’s secrets because they just naturally open up to her. And eventually, Dogday becomes her rock, giving them this deep emotional connection where they’re both vulnerable and open with each other.

Bobby’s practicality also helps balance out Dogday’s crazier ideas. She rarely says “no” outright, but she’s good at restructuring them to make things safer or less chaotic. If safety’s not the issue, then they’re often the ones mediating when their friends have disagreements. They’ve both learned the importance of compromise and work together to bring peace to any tense situation.

I feel like their brief character descriptions show how good they would both be at this.

They’re known as the “mom and dad” of the group, always looking out for everyone’s physical and emotional well-being.

It’s funny how differently they approach things, like planning events—Dogday’s spontaneous energy versus Bobby’s structured organization—but they still make a great team.

In public, they’ve got this super cute Barbie/Ken - Mickey&Minnie vibe, showing their love for each other without hesitation. It’s strong, proud, and they never shy away from letting everyone know how much they mean to each other!

Character flaws/dark side of the ship:

At their darkest, Bobby and Dogday have some pretty complex flaws. Bobby, when she’s at her worst, can be manipulative. She’s got this way of playing on people’s emotions, sometimes twisting things to suit her needs, all while wearing a caring face. It’s like she knows people trust her and she uses that to her advantage, especially if she’s feeling insecure or threatened.

On the flip side, Dogday’s biggest weakness is his fear of hurting others. He’ll go to great lengths to avoid conflict, even if it means letting himself be hurt. He’s so afraid of causing pain or upsetting someone that he’ll bottle up his own feelings or allow himself to be taken advantage of.

This combination can be dangerous when their issues align, with Bobby’s manipulation and Dogday’s passive acceptance creating a pretty toxic dynamic in their worst moments. Thankfully this outcome is incredibly hard for me to see happening. It is still a possibility though.

(In some messed up but interesting fanfiction)

Other Stuff:

On the wiki I saw something incredibly minute but decided to go ahead and make something of it.  There is the idea, at least, that Dogday is named after “Dogstar” aka Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky. If you think about Dogday being associated with Sirius, the Dog Star, and Bobby representing Ursa Major aka The Big Dipper, in my mind it symbolizes how their relationship works.

Sirius is the brightest star, leading the way, just like Dogday, who's bold, full of energy, and always guiding others. Bobby, on the other hand, is like Ursa Major—steady, reliable, and always there to support.

Their relationship reflects that balance: Dogday’s light and leadership are complemented by Bobby’s protective, grounding nature. Together, they’re like two guiding forces—he lights the way, and she provides the strength and stability needed to stay on course.

It’s almost like he can shine brighter because he knows she’s there, holding things together.

And for Bobby, Dogday is the spark that keeps her moving forward, even when she feels uncertain.

It’s also cool how Ursa Major is used for navigation, like Bobby helps Dogday find his way emotionally. Meanwhile, Sirius has been a marker of important times like the "dog days" of summer or the flooding of the Nile river, (The flooding of the Nile is celebrated btw, it's a good thing) just as Dogday marks big changes in Bobby’s life.

They balance each other out like the constellations they represent: one a guiding light, the other a steady, protective force in the background.

I think about the cardboard cutout order. Bobby and Dogday are among the last supposedly, holding out even longer than the athletic Hoppy. I interpret that to mean Bobby on her own has a strong will and some amount of bravery.

Not to throw shade at the others who fell before, as it could have all come down to bad luck.(or bad platforming skills--burn.)  But I bring the “possible” death order up as some might say Bobby’s sweet and caring nature means she is weak or useless. I don’t think so.

This is also why I characterize Bobby as sort of a lady-like yet cute bruiser. Dogday is brave but not the strongest critter by far.  Dogday is  Zelda and Bobby is Link lol.  Bobby Bearhug is his knight in fluffy armor, and Dogday is Bobby’s warm home.

There is a tragedy to this. If Bobby was one of the last two  with Dogday in the game. (Going by the order the cardboard cutouts are seen.) I imagine she was doing her best to support him, only for Dogday to abandon Bobby near the end. As the leader, Dogday did what he thought was best and it broke her, ultimately ending them both.

How the relationship Helps them grow:

Not wanting to end this on a down note I’ll speak a bit more on how the relationship enhances both of them.

Bobby’s practical, more thoughtful approach doesn’t just temper Dogday’s adventurous spirit as what may be expected from a dynamic like this. In fact it enhances his daring. 

Yes, it'll ease him off riskier behavior but it enables him to be a more successful leader with her providing safety nets and or foundations for him to be confident. It's not just him willing confidence from within, there's another external pillar to  bolster his confidence. That pillar being her secret knowledge of their friends. While Bobby won't be spilling secrets, she'd certainly know how to guide Dogday in the right direction when it comes to helping the others.

She helps ensure that his ideas are successful and safe, so he'll not only be able to focus his energy on particulars but he'll have the confidence to be the best leader he can be, knowing he won't just come crashing down to earth.  

In turn Dogday's boundless energy, brings joy and spontaneity to Bobby’s more grounded maybe reserved, structured world.  Though she is strong she likely tends to fall back to what's familiar, to what's safe. There is strength in the familiar in the sense of you know for sure you are strong here, but out there things may be more uncertain. 

Out there you can feel weak. At least that's the perception for some with issues of self worth. But now with his energy, his enthusiasm, his optimism, and his light, she'll have the freedom to step out of her usual comfort zones and perhaps be more than she may have imagined. 

Sooo yeah. This ship is not bad. Nor is it boring. I'll never understand how this sentiment came about. Opposites attract isn't the only way a relationship can be interesting. Okay people?

 And that is all that I have to say! Thanks for listening to my CritterTalk.

[lillian-gallows]

Kinktober Day 31: A/B/O with Cooper Howard/The Ghoul

Pairing: Alpha!Cooper Howard/The Ghoul X Omega!Fem!Reader Word Count: 4119 Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics (and everything that entails), P in V, Mean!Cooper to Soft!Cooper, Mention of Cannon typical violence, Fingering (F receiving), Doggy style, Pet names.

Kinktober 2024 Master(sub)list.

Minors DNI

Traveling with Cooper isn’t what one would call easy or simple.

The man has a metric shit-ton of enemies, half of which have very valid reasons to hate him.

In the roughly five months you two have traveled together, a partnership born of convenience and a little bit of necessity, though he’d never admit to needing you, you have been shot at, and actually shot once, stabbed, blown up, and irradiated once when he forgot that walking through a radstorm wasn’t something humans can safely do.

Yet somehow you find yourself not hating him, especially when he actually seems to feel bad for all those instances, only half of which were actually his fault.

At first, he just offered lame apologies, but after the first month he started taking it upon himself to patch you up, his strong scent filling your nose and making your skin prickle.

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t drawn to him, and not just for all the ‘nature’ reasons. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, and when he wasn’t being an asshole, he wasn’t so bad, funny even.

Oh yea, that’s the other part.

He’s an Alpha.

And you an Omega.

Not that he knows that bit about you, which is by design as you take great strides to keep your secondary gender hidden, not just from him but from everyone.

Being an Omega in a semi-safe town is dangerous enough, but being an Omega that travels a lot is practically a death sentence.

You suppose that’s why your family of Alpha’s and Beta’s kicked you out when you presented as a teen. It’s a miracle that nothing has happened since then.

Cooper however is under the impression that you’re just a jumpy Beta.

Every time you two get to a town, you split off to go on the hunt for suppressants. Post-war ones work best, but pre-war ones were just as good in a pinch.

This was one such day.

You had run out a week ago, and seeing as you’ve been on them pretty much 24/7 for your entire adult life it means you can already feel the heat of impending doom on the back of your neck.

Cooper walked ahead of you a couple paces, not for any reason other than him being taller and not caring if you fall behind, you’ll catch up eventually.

The rickety metal gates of the town, “Saintstown” the sign on top of it reads, open as you approach and Cooper doesn’t hesitate to walk in, the guards eyeing the pair of you warily.

Once inside the Ghoul turned and threw a small pouch at you. “Get us more food while you go chem hunting or whatever it is you do…” He grumbled, not looking at you, but rather as his gloved hand as he adjusted the material lazily.

After the first two times he watched you get fidgety before getting to a town to disappear and come back cool as a radcumber, he started to assume you were just a functional junkie, which wasn’t necessarily wrong.

He wasn’t one to judge, he was worse than you could ever be.

The man was a walking pharmacy with all the shit in his system on the average day.

“Uh, right.” You managed as you nearly fumbled the pouch, the rattle of caps inside. “Any preferences?”

He lifted the space where a brow would be if he had them as if to say, “What do you think?”

Right, he doesn’t give a shit. Ass-jerky, case and point.

Nodding, you turned and walked away in search of the market, thankfully there were signs posted pretty much everywhere.

Finding the local doctor wasn’t hard, he had a small booth and a locked chest with a big red cross painted on it.

“I need meds.” You said as you approached.

“Gonna have to be a lot more specific, girly.” He answered as he used a filthy rag to clean a scalpel.

Leaning in you lowered your voice. “I need suppressants. As many as you can spare.”

His eyes finally flicked over to you, looking you up and down carefully. He was older, probably in his 50s, and seemed the caring type if a bit bored. “When was the last time you rode out a heat?” He asked as he stood and came closer so you wouldn’t have to strain to hear each other.

You gnawed at your lip and looked away like a child that knows she’s about to be scolded. “A few years.” You answered and he sighed.

“You need to take a break; these things are going to hurt you.” He warned but turned to the chest anyway.

“I know. But it’s not really an option right now.” Your answer was frustrated but more at the situation rather than his warning. You were well aware of the dangers.

The lid of the chem chest creaked as it opened and he reached in, moving a couple things around before pulling out a small stack of metal tins and coming back to you.

“How long will you be in town?” He asked, looking at you over his cracked glasses.

You sighed. “I think you can understand why I’m not about to answer that question.” You said with a lifted brow.

He nodded and held out the stack of tins. “Twenty caps per tin, 50 pills per tin.”

Your heart dropped. That would set you up for months, but you only had enough caps for one tin. The temptation to use the caps Cooper gave you was strong, but that was a bad idea.

That money was for food, and he would be able to tell if there were too few caps for too little food.

“I can only afford one.” You said as you pulled your own cap bag out.

The doctor nodded and set the extras aside as he waited for you to count out his pay.

The trade off was made and you shoved the tin into your duster pocket until you could pack it safely into your backpack.

“If you come across more caps, these’ll still be here.” He said with a sympathetic look before turning away to return the meds to the chest.

“Thanks.” You said before going on your way.

Getting the food was easy, there were several vendors with preserved food and packaged goods for sale, and with some scrap left from your travels you were able to barter for a good deal on the provisions.

Finding Cooper again wasn’t hard, he stood out.

A tall, imposing, mean looking Ghoul is a bit hard to miss in a town of humans that skittered around like they expected him to lash out at any moment.

They weren’t wrong but still.

He was lounging at a table outside what looked like the local eatery, a beer in one hand and his hat hung in front of his eyes.

As you approached you were nearly knocked on your ass by a kid running into you.

Shoving the kid back from you carefully, so as not to knock him down, you looked down at his filthy face. “Watch it, kid.” You warned sternly, he should be happy it was you and not Cooper he ran into.

“Sorry!” Then he was gone.

“Get what we came for?” Cooper asked as he appeared in front of you.

“Yeah. Hope you like Pork and Beans. It was the cheapest thing I could find.” You answered as you tossed him the cap pouch.

He caught it without looking, cocky bastard, and nodded. “Good. Let’s get outta here.” Then he was turning back to the gates and making long strides, not bothering to make sure you were following.

“‘Let’s stay the night, kid’” You muttered, mimicking his voice. “‘Nah, Coop, let’s get back on the road. We got shit to do.’” You said in your own voice. “‘If you’re sure’. ‘I’m sure.’”

“You gonna keep talking to yourself like a batshit or are you comin?” He called over his shoulder.

“Yeah, yeah…” You grumbled as you sped up your gait.

He walked until long after dark, and the town was far behind you, barely a speck on the horizon behind you.

When you finally stopped for the night, you felt feverish and clammy, assumably from all the time spent in the blistering wasteland sun.

The old Red Rocket station he chose for the night was thankfully mostly intact, even had glass still in the windowsills, so barricading the doors was an easy enough task that took barely twenty minutes, and by the time you were done, Cooper had a fire made to stave off the chill of the night.

Exhaustion hit you hard as soon as you settled across the fire from him, and sleep wasn’t going to be fought this time, so you laid down against your pack and let yourself fall asleep, knowing Cooper would be taking first watch either way.

He never lets you take first watch.

Who knows how many hours later, you woke to the feeling of your skin burning and for a moment you feared you’d rolled into the fire, till you felt that telltale twisting in your belly.

Fuck.

With sweating hands, you reached into your duster to the pocket you had tucked it into and found said pocket completely empty.

Flicking your duster open you looked down into it with wide eyes, breaths picking up as you confirmed that it was indeed empty, but before you started to really panic you reached into the opposite pocket and only found your cap bag and a few loose bullets.

Had you already put it in your pack and forgotten?

Reaching for your pack you started digging, trying not to look too freaked out, knowing Cooper would still be awake sitting across from you, but that went out the window as you found only your normal supplies in the bag.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck…” You whimpered, heat rising on your neck, sweat beading on your forehead.

“Lose your new stash?” Coopers voice was like a rock through glass, sounding teasing and maybe a little smug.

“Shut up.” You snapped as you looked around at the ground where you’d been laying, maybe you dropped it while you slept.

He hummed at your response. “Desperation ain’t a good look on you, Sweetheart.” He said, tilting his head as he watched you search.

“Then I guess it’s a good thing I don’t care about looking good for you.” You snapped, too busy freaking out.

When could you have lost it?

Then it hit you. The kid.

“That little shit!” You hissed, kicking your backpack in anger.

Even if you could convince him to go back to the town, you didn’t have enough caps for more, and even the doctor wasn’t going to be nice enough to give you a discount.

And you were pretty sure you didn’t have that kind of time anyway, not with the way you felt like you were on fire.

Cooper sighed in annoyance. “Christ, if I’d known this was what you were like without your fix, I never woulda let you come with me.” He grumbled.

“Yeah, that’s not the only reason.” You said without thinking, but your words snapped you into a different panic as soon as you heard them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, sitting up from his previously lounged position.

“Nothing.” You said quickly, looking away from him, trying to act like you were still looking for your lost property.

Behind you, you heard him get up. “What is that supposed to mean?” His voice was slowly getting closer, a step with each word, and you felt your hair stand on end, both because his scent was so strong in your nose right now, and because his voice was like smooth pebbles in your ears.

Danger, but every part of you was drawn to it.

Your breaths were fast as you turned to look at him. He was only a couple of inches away from you.

And judging by the look on his face, he didn’t need you to answer anymore.

He could smell you now.

“You tellin me you’re a fucking Omega?” He growled and you whimpered.

You’re not sure if it was in fear or arousal.

Words lodged in your throat as you looked up at him.

And before you could force them from your lips, he had you by the throat and pressed against the wall.

“Were you ever going to say anything about it? Or were you planning on just going into fucking heat during a firefight?” He asked through gritted teeth.

Your brain felt like it was burning, and all you could think about was how his hand felt on your neck, and how he smelled, and how close he was to you.

“I’m sorry…” You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes and falling when his grip tightened, and your eyes squeezed shut. “I had it under control…”

His lips twitched down as he watched you cower before him, but it was gone as quickly as it appeared. “Yeah, till you went and got robbed.” He hissed.

He looked like he was trying not to breathe too much.

“You’re going into fucking heat right now, aren’t you?” He asked, sounding like he couldn’t decide if he was concerned or mad about it, which was a strange thing to hear in his voice.

You nodded as best you could with his hold on your neck.

At that he let go like you’d burned him, and he let out another growl, this one much deeper in his chest, as he started to pace. “Fuck!” Then he was facing you again. “How long has it been?”

“Years…” You answered, still leaning against the wall, feeling flushed and weak already. Your heats have never started this strong before.

That seemed to piss him off even more, but now the reason was much clearer, he was worried. “Do you have a goddamn death wish?”

“It wasn’t safe.” You reasoned, but it was as weak as your legs felt.

“Neither is not having a heat in years.” He started pacing again, muttering to himself. “Can’t cross the wastes like this…No one for miles…Shit…”

He didn’t need to say it, you both already knew.

He was going to have to help you through it if you wanted to guarantee survival.

And he didn’t look like he was against it so much as hating the circumstances, which was more than a little jarring.

“Coop…” You started but he held up a finger.

“Have you ever had help through a heat before?” He sounded gentler now, still stern but much calmer.

Shaking your head couldn’t look at him. “No.”

“You ever been with an Alpha at all?”

“Once, but he wouldn’t knot me. Some Brotherhood guy I encountered.”

At your words he nodded.

The look on his face spoke volumes. He was mentally preparing to help you, and it made you feel horrifically guilty.

“You don’t have to.” You said quietly. “I can lock myself in the office and stay there till it’s over. You can stay out here or leave. But you don’t have to help me.” You said and he looked at you like he was offended.

“I’m not going to let you suffer alone, and not when it could kill you.” He stalked closer to you as he spoke.

He looked like a completely different man, and you wondered if you were seeing whoever he’d been before he was a Ghoul peeking through.

“Now.” He started. “Sit your ass down and drink some water. You’re going to need it.”

That was the last thing he said before going back over to sit where he’d been before.

Doing the same, you took up your canteen and took a couple long swigs from it, feeling fatigue edging back in.

“I’m gonna try to sleep more.” You said as you laid back down, getting only a hum of acknowledgement in return.

Sleep found you fast, but it was shallow, and your body still felt far too hot.

At one point you woke up to the feeling of being moved and found Cooper taking your duster off.

Managing a grumble of annoyance at being woken he chuckled. “Down girl, just making sure you don’t get heat stroke.” Then you were back out again.

When you woke again for good it felt like you were laying in a pot of boiling water, sweat soaked your clothes, which were heavy and itched at your tingling skin, your eyes were fuzzy and watery, and you could feel a distinct slickness between your legs.

“Cooper?” You rasped, partially fearing he’d changed his mind and abandoned you.

“Right here, Darlin…” He said then you felt the rim of your canteen at your lips. “Nice and slow now.”

The water felt like ice with how hot your mouth and lips were, but it was so nice. “Hurts…” You managed as you tried to tug at your shirt, then your pants, feet kicking at your boots feebly.

“I know, let me.” He said, then his hands were on you, his actual hands, not his gloves.

They felt cool against your skin as he pulled your boots from your feet, then your pants, and finally he helped you sit up and tugged your shirt over your head, leaving you only in your soaked underwear and equally drenched bra, which he helped you out of too when you tried to tug the straps down your arms without success.

“Fuck…Wouldja look at that…” He said as he looked at you, eyes scanning over your body like you were a feast waiting just for him.

You were sure you looked like a mess, and with him so close your glossy eyes could make him out in the haze.

His pupils almost consumed his eyes, his breathing was fast, and his chest was expanding so much with each breath that it made his shirt go a little taut, the sight had you pressing your thighs together, though with all the slick that had gathered there was little friction to be found.

His eyes tracked the movement, and it was like a switch being flipped, his own shirt was pulled free from his pants, which were quickly undone but neither were removed, with made you whine but he shushed you. “You don’t wanna see what’s under all this, Sweetheart…” He whispered before leaning in.

You thought he would go in for a kiss, but instead they met your neck, trailing along your jaw with shocking tenderness, little kisses and nips and licks that made you shiver.

Your hands gripped his shirt collar, pulling him closer, forcing him to reposition between your thighs, allowing you to grind up against him.

“Coop…” You whined as you trailed one hand down his chest till you reached his opened pants, then past the hem till you found what you were looking for.

He was hard, which wasn’t shocking, but his responding shiver sent a bolt through you.

Suddenly you felt stone cold sober. You were about to fuck Cooper.

The man who was to blame for a lot of the misfortune you’d experienced over the last five months.

But he was also the source of a not insignificant amount of fortune.

As quickly as your mind cleared it fogged back over, and you were right back to tugging him closer, now with your legs wrapped over his hips.

Your hand, still wrapped around his thick cock, moved up and down, gathering the pre-cum that was collecting at the tip to spread it down the length.

He let out a quiet groan as you worked him, dipping down to his base to give the raised space where his knot would form a light massage.

At that his hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled your hand away. “You do that, and this’ll be over before I can be any use.” He chided lightly, smirking down at you.

You let out a needy sound and he sat up, moving to flip you but earning an annoyed sound instead as you tried to resist, some primal part of your brain wanting to see him. “This’ll be easier if I’m behind you, Darlin.” He said, using your weakened state and superior strength to carefully turn you over.

In the clear part of your brain, you knew he was right, but the whinny Omega part of your brain you wanted desperately to see his face, to kiss him.

Okay, maybe that last bit was a shared desire, but that was beside the point.

Behind you, Cooper moved around for a moment before you felt him help you sit up a little, slipping your wadded up duster under your head. Your arms wrapped around it immediately like a pillow and you settled on it.

Then cool hands were pulling your panties down your legs, the slick on your thighs had stated to cool uncomfortably and you whined at the sensation, but that whine morphed into a moan as two thick fingers pressed into your cunt.

The ache abated instantly, and your body pressed back into the touch without your input, practically riding his fingers as he curled them, hitting that sweet spot that had your already spinning head turning into a cyclone.

The orgasm snuck up on you entirely.

Your whole body went taut for a moment before descending into shakes as you cried and moaned, it was so good but nowhere near enough.

“Cooper…” You drew out his name, both praise and plead.

Then his chest was pressed to your back, his shirt felt scratchy, and you tried to pull away from the sensation, but then it was gone.

No, not gone, fully unbuttoned so it wasn’t in the way. “I’m right here...” He whispered into your flushed ear, once more sounding like smooth pebbles but now lacking the anger from before.

The head of his cock prodded where you wanted him most, and he didn’t make you wait as he pressed into you, filling you to the brim in one slow thrust.

The base where his knot sat half inflated pressed against your pussy, but he stopped there, letting you get used to the feeling of being so full.

There was an ache of a different kind now, the kind that teetered on the bleeding edge of pleasure, and you tried to press back into it, but his rough hand on your hip kept you still.

“Stay still, let me do all the work.” He ordered before he pulled back only to push back in hard and fast.

The moan it punched out of you was absolutely filthy, and it served to urge him on.

Setting a punishing rhythm, Cooper made no effort to hide that this felt as wonderful for him as it did for you, his voice was rough and raspy as he groaned and growled, his lips pressing to your bare shoulders.

For a moment you wondered if he’d sink his teeth in and claim you, but he never did, instead he pressed his teeth to the spot to make the Omega part of your brain keen.

Each thrust was like a spark to gasolene, igniting every part of your body, and unlike before you could feel the orgasm swelling in your belly.

You tried to vocalize it, warn him it was coming, but with the way his speed increased it seemed he was well aware and didn’t need to be told, especially when it seemed he was right there with you.

In a swift moment he pressed all the way in, causing his knot to press past the barrier of your pussy and lock him to you as you both came screaming.

His name was an incoherent babble as it fell from your lips.

Your name was a low groan as it fell from his.

Heat filled your belly in spurts and your body felt like it finally got exactly what it needed to calm down, the overwhelming fever ebbing and the shaking of your limbs easing.

As you both panted, Cooper shifted you both onto your sides, careful not to tug at the place where you were bound as he went.

Your bundled duster became a shared pillow.

Words didn’t feel needed right then. Even though he hadn’t claimed you, something felt like things were more permanent between you now, like you didn’t need to worry about waking up to him having absconded in the night.

Sleep once more edged at your brain but you tried to resist it, still basking in the afterglow, but when a yawn escaped, he wrapped his arm around you. “Get some sleep, Darlin…”

So, you did.

[seikoru]

!Nerd Armin h'cs

Since I found out that the dudes here love !Nerd Armin, I felt it was my duty to share my head-canons on him. I have no idea how to use tumblr at all but here it is. All of this is a pieces of my au for a huge storyline armin fanfic with original female character, so…. just enjoy

You met completely by accident. You only went to Wall High School this year when you moved. And you didn't really like the local way of doing things. The whole caste thing, the whole cool dudes/loser thing. it was weird.

You wanted to hang out with everyone, no matter how different they were. Even though you were considered a cool and pretty girl by their metrics.

You first asked Armin for help after another biology class with a hell of a teacher, and he gladly agreed to help.

Armin was immediately very sweet to you. The way he would sometimes adjust his glasses or tuck a strand of hair behind his ear while he was explaining a topic to you…

To be honest, he was a bit frustrated by your lack of results after his help. You were barely getting better grades. He just didn't notice that half the time you weren't looking at the textbook, but at him.

But the more you became friends, the better his character revealed to you. He was known around school as the creepy anime otaku. Was that true? Absolutely. When you first went to his place, you were literally in a pink kingdom where all the walls were covered with anime girls.

Yeah, Armin had never felt the touch of a woman before. He'd had friends like Mikasa, but you… you were something else.

You'd been friends for almost six months until the winter ball was announced. And you literally didn't know who to go with. There were tons of guys chasing you, but they were all like Reiner: idiotic jocks.

The prom was coming up, and you still hadn't found a date. Armin rejected the prom: he didn't like the idea of jostling with sweaty, drunken teenagers to idiotic music in a stuffy room when he could be at home playing video games.

You managed to talk him into going out with you as a friend.

Did you kiss him ballroom night? Yes, you did.

When you, already drunk, said "I want to kiss you", Armin was quite taken aback. At first he just pulled you away and said something like "You need to sober up," but his heart was jumping out of his chest.

When you started convincing him of your sincere affection for him, he became hesitant. Quietly he muttered "I don't want you playing with my feelings".

You asked "Feelings?". He realized he had said something unnecessary, but there was no turning back. So you moved closer, took his glasses off his nose and gently touched his lips with yours.

In a relationship, Armin is the ultimate golden retriever. He smiles widely when he accidentally meets you in the school hallway at recess and is adorably embarrassed when you fleetingly touch him in public.

You're not allowed to spend much time together, lest you bring a wave of bullying on Armin. You had to keep yourselves within the school castes. But you guys didn't like the PDA anyway, so it wasn't a big problem.

Armin is proud of his collection of anime girls on his wall, but he's even more proud of his girlfriend. He always thought you were out of his league, and he couldn't hope for anything more than friendship.

But how happy he was when you would come to his house and sit on his lap while he was on Discord with his friends playing some games.

Armin often caught hyperfixated on his studies and wouldn't get out from under mountains of textbooks. It's not like you like studying much. But Armin is fine with it: he's willing to do ABSOLUTELY ALL of your homework for you.

Socially, he doesn't show how soft he is on the inside. While you were friends, you were sure he only knew how to be sassy. But hell, it turns out he's also good at kneeling in front of you, slowly kissing your ankles, calves and knees, working his way up to your thighs-

And you loved owning that side of him. Supple, belonging only to you. When he stared at you with admiring eyes, and you gently brushed away the strands of hair that fell across his face. He could have tell to fuck off to anyone else without a second thought, but not you.

[peaches2217]

So, uh… tonight was cathartic as hell. Remember how I was raised in a church that became a cult and how it’s left me with thirteen metric tons of religious trauma, which I’ve only recently been able to start working through?

Tonight, I did something I’ve wanted to do for a very long time: I went back one last time to say goodbye.

We had a Blue Christmas service this evening at my church. I planned to attend just because it seemed like it would be peaceful, but it ended up opening my eyes to a loooooot of pain and grief I’m still holding onto. Today was the church I was raised in’s annual candlelight communion service in honor of Christmas. My whole family was there, except for me. I invited them to the Blue Christmas service and our own candlelight communion this coming Tuesday, and they rejected the offers, just as they’ve rejected every other invitation I’ve extended to them. My dad always said he wanted nothing more than for me to seek God with my whole heart, and now I’m finally in a place where I feel safe enough that I can… and it’s driven a wedge between us, because he’s convinced God could never reveal Himself to me so long as I’m openly and unrepentantly trans. This isn’t the first Christmas I haven’t gone to church with him, but it’s the first Christmas I’ve spent in church alone, and I didn’t realize until tonight how heavy my heart is as a result.

I ended up planting myself at the alter and just praying for a good twenty minutes after the service proper ended. There wasn’t any divine revelation, I just gave up all my fears and concerns and sorrows. About halfway through I felt a hand on my shoulder, and it stayed there until I finally got back up. It was one of my pastors, and he prayed with me until I was done; he offered me a hug and told me quietly that “God delights in you,” and that, no matter what I face, I won’t have to face it alone; God is always with me, and he and his wife (who’s the head pastor) will always welcome me. Talk about not even knowing what you needed to hear until you hear it. I was choking up. 😆

I sat outside and watched the stars for a bit because I just… didn’t wanna go home. I never do when I’m at church. I felt like there was more that needed to be done or experienced. Ultimately I decided to drive around for a little bit and just let my thoughts run wild. And as luck would have it, the path I chose took me past the church I was raised in… which was completely abandoned. They usually have evening service, but since it’s the last Sunday before Christmas, no service tonight.

I’m not really sure what compelled me to pull in, much less to get out of my car. But I did, and then my feet just started moving, and once I started, I didn’t wanna stop.

I visited as many places as I could without access to the inside of the church and just remembered. “This is the door that led to my dad’s Divorce Care class. I’d always poke my head in on Wednesday nights to see if I could nab some candy from the crystal bowl.” “This is where the swing set used to be. I’d play sick so I could swing instead of having to sit through sermons. Lots of lectures happened here.” “This is the AC unit I hid behind one of the last times I attended a service here. I hid here and cried and prayed someone would find me there and assure me I wasn’t as alone as I felt. No one did.”

Once I finished circling the outside of the church, I stood on the bridge overlooking the fish pond in front for a bit, because that was one of my favorite places to linger growing up. The rocks, the planks, everything was exactly how I remembered them. Then I waved at the nearest security camera, hopped back in my car, and pulled away. It seems kinda silly recounting it now, but I thanked the church and said “goodbye” out loud, then I was off down the road and I didn’t look back.

I don’t know if this will actually be helpful in the long run or if it truly gave me lasting closure. But for tonight, there’s peace. I’ve said my goodbyes on my own terms, and now I’m moving ahead, and for tonight at least, that’s enough.

(I also got this cool picture of one of the crosses on the side of the church. A cult it may be, but it’s a well-decorated cult. 😂)