#because its all trash and dumb

[jawz]

i saw the tv glow is legitimately one of the stupidest, most tryhard movies i've ever seen in my entire life. absolute dogshit. and everyone is pretending it's the most lifechanging thing they've ever seen LOL give me a break! the gall to claim this is inspired by fucking DAVID LYNCH??? i can't

[reallytiredartstudent]

Video is absolutely right and I wanna add a tidbit from my studies here.

In Germany (you know, home of Gutenberg and the move able letters for printing revolutionizing books, coining a shit load of terms) a publisher is called a 'Verleger' and a publishing house is a 'Verlag'. It comes from the word 'vorlegen', which is 'to advance smth'. Basically it comes from way back in the day when printing was for the first time done in enough large-scale to sell books and publisher needing to be rich back in the days, because they would carry all the upfront cost of publishing. (Publishing was really really expensive). That was why they needed to have money, to bridge the gap between the time of 'investing' and 'return'.

I know publishing works a lot different today but the thing is?

Even back then they had to make sure their writers and artist didn't die on them. That they could feed themselves. And yeah that was never an easy battle, contracts and negotiaten and fights over properly being paid, but you know what? It happened even back then and today you can tell much, much earlier how good something is going to perform compared to back then. The risk is so much lower. The upfront cost is so much lower. And it's infuriating that publishers still try to not properly pay the people that provide them with what they are actually selling. Publishing is investing. Investing money in a story, in the person that wrote that story. And I heard stories like that too often, of writers that had bestselling books and barely had enough to survive.

And it's like - the reason why the system came into place was because someone needed to finance and organize the thing upfront. Because the majority of writers don't have that kind of money to bridge that time. That was the point of the system. That was how the legtimized themselves. For someone to carry the upfront cost. And it feels so ludicrous to me that stories like that are so so so common by now. Pay your people for fucks sake, and pay them in a way that is liveable.

🤷‍♂️publishing can’t ask us to write bestsellers for them on no money

[tortademaracuya]

I can accept being a horrible bad person but I wish at least I knew how to avoid hurting people

[dumber-alek]

I just found out you can hide reblogs thanks to someone who posted a real dogwater o**d take and my tagged reblog along with some much more sensible additions by a couple of people are straight up GONE LMAO

I'm wondering if there's any way to see all reblogs, even those hidden by op 🤔 xkit maybe? I think the option to hide some reblogs is neat but there should be a way to uhhh see all the actual response to the post :u

[qqueenofhades]

I think its genuinely fascinating how Biden has somehow become the bad vibes sin eater for the party. I'm seeing people who were doing the whole "voting doesn't matter both old men are the same" pivot hard into voting as harm reduction. The anti voting rhetoric has COMPLETELY lost The Youths on tiktok. People suddenly remember the good things the Biden administration has done but don't associate Harris with any of the things they didn't like. In my swing state volunteers are signing up in droves. People feel ENERGIZED, the vibe shift pre and post Biden dropping from the race has just been insane

Y'know, that is a... good way of putting it. It's also why I'm quite sure that Biden has probably been planning it for a while. I don't think he was intending to step down, and didn't want to be forced out at the drop of a hat, but after he realized that the circus was never going to stop until he did, he did the honorable fall-on-his-own-sword thing and definitely, DEFINITELY spent some time choreographing this behind the scenes. Because while the roll-out has been very smooth, it could just as easily (as many of us were expecting) have been a total disaster, and that doesn't happen without SOME planning. It's also entirely possible that the campaign staff flipped from Biden to Harris are superhuman, to come up with a massive online roll-out, new branding, new signs (they had plenty of 'em in Wisconsin yesterday), new everything, but I'm guessing it's a combination of both. Biden has spent his entire political career being underestimated, and after we literally made a meme out of Dark Brandon juking the Republicans out of their shoes, we should definitely give credit where credit is due in how masterfully he pulled it off.

Because we have had eight years defined by the central question of Whether The President Is a God King Who Should Serve For Life (the MAGAts obviously think yes), the sheer idea of a president willingly giving up his power BEFORE he had to is also novel and admirable. It's sad that this is the case, but so be it. The Republicans also got a heaping helping of Be Careful What You Wish For that was undoubtedly brilliant; they've been yelling for years that Biden is old and frail and can't serve and should step down. Biden went "lol okay" and gave it to them, and now they're fucked.

Aside from that, on the most basic level, it's far, far easier to see the actual difference in the parties with Harris as the nominee, just because it shows that one party is willing to make progress and reflect the new demographic reality and social mores of America, and the other one is not. Now to be clear, Biden deserves an incredible amount of credit for coming out of retirement (he was ALREADY 77 years old when he became president and had had decades of a long and respected career in public service behind him) to fight, beat Trump, and deliver an incredibly successful presidency. He held the line against authoritarianism at home and abroad, he rescued the trashed American economy and managed a world-leading recovery from Covid, he stood up for democracy, he spent four years filling the benches with liberal judges to reverse even some of the Trump/McConnell hack job, he finally passed comprehensive infrastructure investment and the Green New Deal under the name of the Inflation Reduction Act -- and so on. Many of these priorities had been languishing for decades or were completely trashed under Trump, and he could not have done so much in just 4 years without all that age, skill, and experience. Hence why all the Ageism!!! was (aside from being a Republican/media smear job) dumb. He's able to do the job because he has had decades to study. Turns out that makes you actually pretty damn good at it.

Yes, Biden could not do as much as he wanted or originally planned, had to deal with MAGA Republicans and Joe Manchin/Kyrsten Sinema sabotaging him the whole time (lololol Manchin, possible possessor of the World's Biggest Ego and with Trump around that's saying something, popping out of obscurity to self-righteously announce he would not be willing to be Kamala's VP. YEAH ASSHOLE. LITERALLY NOBODY ASKED YOU. NOBODY WHATSOEVER. NO MATTER WHAT HAPPENS AT LEAST WE WILL SOON NO LONGER HAVE MANCHIN IN THE SENATE). And yes, Biden made some serious mistakes of his own, because he IS from an older generation and a different style of doing politics/different beliefs that no longer resonate with the younger segments of the electorate. But this old white Catholic guy at the age of almost 80 still managed to be the most progressive president ever, coming in at a moment of incredible domestic and international crisis and getting us safely to the other side, and all cynicism, criticizing, and caveating aside, he deserves an incredible amount of credit for that. I mean that absolutely, and I am very grateful.

As I said, willingly relinquishing that power takes guts, and when Biden saw the writing on the wall that he had to sacrifice himself, he took his time, he didn't jump too early, and he didn't jump too late. On the most basic level, it becomes a hell of a lot easier to make the "both parties are not the same" argument when one is running a (comparatively) young brown woman and the other is still running their loathed felonious old demented orange traitor. Most Americans are not plugged into policy minutiae and details. They look at Biden-Trump, they see two old white guys. When you take one of those old white guys away (who goes in a self-sacrificially heroic manner and in sharp contrast with the coup-happy fascist) and put Kamala Harris in there instead, it generates an obvious jolt. People can see for themselves that there is a real difference that doesn't rely on closely reading news and tracking complex policy, because as noted, most Americans simply don't. The brown first-generation American daughter of brown immigrants is a quantifiably different story from "old white guy career politician," which for better or worse is how Biden was seen, especially the old part. We needed that establishment expertise to beat Trump in 2020; I still think Biden is the only one who could have done it, and as noted, we owe him a great debt for doing so.

However.... 2024 is not 2020, and it is not 2016. There has been this HUGE and unbelievable swing to Kamala because she represents the antithesis of what the last eight years of Trump-induced anger, fear, panic, chaos, and hatred has stirred up. That's why people are so ready to rally around her, just as they were (I daresay) around Obama in 2008, after the exhaustion, chaos, war, and mounting economic misery of Bush. Trump has been out of office for the last four years, but his shadow over the American political landscape has been omnipresent. Now people know that we finally have a real chance at getting rid of him forever, and just as Biden was uniquely positioned to capitalize on that in 2020, so Harris is now. Which is why, however tough it will be, she has a real shot at winning. I can guarantee the Republicans know that, and are shit scared. Because the Black Lady Army of Democracy has indeed arrived in force to Get This Shit Done and I don't know about you, but I found that incalculably comforting:

Yikes! All lined up for Kamala pic.twitter.com/Dt4OCDp7WX

— Alex Cole (@acnewsitics) July 24, 2024

This, at the most basic level, is what scares fascists the most, it's exactly what we need now, and what Harris is uniquely positioned to mobilize, along with her gangbusters appeal to young voters:

This is the energy we need. This is what Biden saw and planned for and which he launched us into, and where all that experience and age paid off. This is why people, even people otherwise disengaged, disillusioned, or checked out of the tedious and mind-numbering drudgery and depression of American politics, are responding to it. Because it's easy to understand, it offers hope, and it tells a very simple story that is nonetheless long overdue:

Thanks so much, Joe. Go absolutely waste that orange fucker, Kamala. We got your back.

[bbyhellfire]

eddie can't think when your tits are covered in his cum (18+ only)

fem!reader, cum eating, nipple play, cum dumb eddie

"Hold on– where are the–?"

Words are thinking. Wait no, words are hard. Thinking is hard, too, especially when Eddie just came all over your chest. He's cum dumb, standing in the middle of his room in a mild panic as he searches for the old PE shirt he turned into a cum rag.

Cigarettes, stereo, trash bag filled with laundry, Judas Priest poster, and –

Shit.

Laundry. He was supposed to be at the laundromat right now, not screwing around (literally). He promised Wayne. But then he begged you to join him so he wouldn't be bored and somehow that turned into you naked in his bed with cum-covered tits as he waits for his brain to reboot.

And sure, the logical next step is to grab some toilet paper from the bathroom, but that requires a level of comprehension that is currently splattered over your chest.

Chest.

You.

He whips back around to you lounging in his bed. It's rude to stare, and he's trying to look away, but there's this one glob of cum that is making its way down and over your nipple. The image is seared in his head, one that makes his used cock hardened again and his tongue to dart out to lick his lips.

When he does finally gain the strength to meet your gaze, he's met with a suspicious smile. One that makes him stammer, "Don't have...Can't find a r–rag."

Pulling your lips down in an exaggerated frown, you run a finger up your chest to collect some of his cum.

"Awww, I guess you'll have to get creative."

And then you pop your finger into your mouth, lips pursing to clean the cum off your finger. Not once do you look away at him.

There is no hesitation on Eddie's part. He just about belly flops onto his bed, slotting himself between your legs before licking up the first streak of cum from your skin. You both moan as his flattened tongue soaks up the salty taste. He does it again, and again, and again until all the stripes are gone.

And because he doesn't half-asses anything that involves you, he locks his lips around a nipple, dragging the tip of his tongue against the hardened peak before sucking until he's certain every last drop of cum is cleaned off your body.

[rafeandonlyrafe]

orange peel theory (dark! and soft!rafe)

words: 1k (about 500 words each)

warnings: name calling, suggestive

orange peel theory: girlfriends ask their boyfriend to peel an orange for them, as a test to see if they are willing to help with small tasks that the girlfriend can do herself

dark

you quickly set your phone in a discreet spot, already recording as you move back to your chair, pretending to be reading your book as rafe walks in.

“what are you doing?” rafe questions, looking at you with concern, not sure if he’s ever seen you read before.

“nothing.” you shake your head, shutting the book and setting it down, glancing at your phone to make sure it is still recording. “how was work?”

“fucking tiring. dealing with idiots all day.” rafe spits the words out before toeing his shoes off and leaving them in the center of the room.

“im sorry.” you pout, standing up as rafe takes a seat on the edge of the bed. you move to stand in between his thighs, pressing a kiss to his lips. he sighs with satisfaction, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, rubbing over them, tucking his fingertips under your shorts to feel your bare skin.

“can you get me an orange rafe? i’m craving one.” you move away from him, setting back on your chair to make sure you are centered in the camera.

rafe gives you a confused look but nods, mainly because he also needs to get a glass of water for himself. he re-enters the room, tossing the orange towards you, which you catch easily.

“thanks.” you smile as rafe takes a sip of water and then sets it on the nightstand. “can you peel it for me though babe?”

“what?” he questions, moving to kneel between your legs, an amused look on his face. “my stupid little slut not able to peel it on her own? too much of a baby?” “rafey.” you whine as he takes the orange out of your hand, unpeeling it and tossing the peel into the trash. he pulls a piece and then hovers it in front of your mouth.

“open up whore, i know how much you love to do that.” rafe taunts you before you lean forward, taking the slice of orange into your mouth and pulling it out of his fingers, letting the citrusy taste flood your mouth.

“you are so mean, this was supposed to be for tiktok.” you point out your phone, making rafe turn to look at the screen opened and recording.

“what?”

“for tiktok, its some trend about asking your boyfriend to peel an orange for you to see if he will do small tasks for you, and you totally failed!” you whine, stamping your feet on the ground in annoyance.

“but i peeled the orange for you.” rafe says with confusion.

“while also calling me a stupid whore!” you stand up, grabbing your phone and stopping the recording, knowing you won’t put it on tiktok.

“are you not my dumb little slut?” rafe asks, standing and stepping close to you, hovering over with his intimidating height.

“i mean i am, but-”

“exactly.” rafe cuts you off, pressing his lips against yours as he backs you up towards the bed.

soft

you quickly set your phone in a discreet spot, already recording as you move back to your chair, pretending to be reading your book as rafe walks in.

“hey baby.” rafe leans down and gives you a kiss on the top of your head, which you quickly tilt up to have him press a second one to your lips.

“how was work?” you ask, setting your book to the side, glancing at your phone to make sure its still recording.

“exhausting.” rafe sighs, rubbing his hand over his face, making you pout.

“im sorry bubs.” you comment as he sits down on the bed to take his work shoes off. 

“no big deal. how was your day?” rafe asks.

“good…” you shrug. you usually go into more detail, and rafe knows it, so he sits quietly, waiting for you to continue. “but i’m actually really hungry.” you blurt out, figuring you shouldn’t delay any longer as you look at your phone again, lucky that rafe doesn’t follow your line of sight.

“what are you hungry for? we can order delivery.” rafe knows you like to cook, but he also doesn’t force it on you, leaving the option to get takeout open whenever you are tired or simply don’t feel like cooking.

“i actually just want an orange.” you shrug.

“thats not really food, darling, but okay.” rafe stands, setting his shoes on the rack next to the door before heading out of the bedroom towards the kitchen.

you can’t help smiling at the camera as you wait, covering your mouth as rafe reenters, already knowing that he’s going to pass the test.

“here ya go.” rafe hands you a bowl instead of an orange, making your eyebrows scrunch together in confusion, before you take it and realize that the orange is already peeled and pulled apart, ready for you to enjoy.

“raaafe.” you whine.

“what?” rafe kneels down in front of your chair, placing his hands on your knees.

“i wanted a whole orange.” you complain, pouting your lower lip out as rafe looks at you in complete confusion.

“why, were you gonna eat the peel or something?” rafe laughs.

“no, its supposed to be a thing for tiktok.” you point towards your phone, which takes rafe a second to see from its hidden position. “you’re supposed to bring me an orange and i ask you to peel it to see if you’ll help me with a small task.”

“should i bring you back a whole orange then so you can ask?” rafe questions.

“no, i don’t even really want an orange to be honest.” you admit. rafe looks down into the bowl, taking a piece and putting it into his mouth, chewing it up. 

“what do you want then honey?”

“can you get me a banana?” you tilt your head to the side. rafe nods, grabbing the bowl from your lap before heading back to the kitchen.

you grab your phone and set it closer. “he’s just too good of a boyfriend.” you sigh as rafe comes back through the door, handing you a banana.

you smile at him in thanks, taking it out of his hand before he leans to press a kiss to your cheek, glancing at the camera, still recording when you realize how you can still test the theory.

“peel it for me babe?”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @rafecamerongirl @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @jjmaybankisbae @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

[charliemwrites]

Awooooooo!

Content: Voyeurism, Dog Urination, Implied Non-Con Touching

Your dog is weird. Just.. just weird. Like, all dogs are weird. They have their quirks and their oddities, silly babies in fluffy bodies.

Johnny though…

He snuggles up in your bed every night; you don’t even bother trying to kick him out. He’s presses up tight against you, head almost on your pillow. Have to start sleeping in a shirt because one too many unfortunately placed cold nose bumps…. Yeah. But that’s fine. The fuzzy space heater is worth it.

(So what if you sort of wake up sometimes and half-dream its skin you’re snuggled up to. If you imagine a more human rasp to the quiet snores by your ear. If the tongue on your cheek is softer and smaller than you’re used to….

Your dating life has been dry for some time.)

Johnny pees in every room of your house at least once, but that’s not entirely surprising - he’s an intact male, after all. (Something you’re trying to, heh, fix. Though the appointment mysteriously keeps getting moved or cancelled.) thankfully, though, once he’s “marked his territory” he starts asking to go outside.

And that’s where the weirdness begins.

The first time you let him out off leash, he shoots off into the woods and only returns once he’s done. You panic, feel so stupid and irresponsible, near tears by the time he gets back. When he sees you upset, say on the porch steps, he darts to your side and leans into you until you calm down.

You stop worrying so much about his little “trips”. Means you dont have to clean up after him to keep the yard tidy after all.

The first time he bounds off into the woods and doesn’t come back after a few minutes, you almost go searching. But.., but well he’s a good boy. An hour later he comes back, scratching at the door.

You’re not sure what he’s up to and it makes you anxious. Don’t like the idea of an “outdoor” dog. All of yours have been in-home pets kept in sight at all times. You’re scared Johnny’s going to get hurt or bitten or hit by a car.

But he always comes back healthy whole.

One hour turns into two, then three. Entire mornings, only returning in the evening to climb into bed. Eventually a whole day. You have someone install a doggy door big enough for Johnny to slip through so that he can come and go as he pleases.

You get used to having a pet that’s only around sometimes, though you sniffle that you miss him when he’s gone. As if understanding, he’ll always lick at you, comforting.

The other weird thing - he demands to climb into bed while you’re doing “self care”. Again, dogs don’t get human social boundaries. He’s allowed on the bed so why is it that he wouldn’t be allowed up even if it’s not bedtime? It’s understandable dog logic, even if you have to stop the first several times it happens.

Keeping him out isn’t an option. Even if you manage to shut the bedroom door on him before he wriggles inside, he makes such a ruckus. Barking, howling, knocking over the trash and scratching at the door. You almost step directly into a puddle of pee once.

You just keep the lights off, close your eyes, and try to ignore the odd brush of fur or gust of air from his nose. Pretend he’s not there at all; and not staring the way he tends to.

Not getting off just isn’t an option. You make your peace with your dog too dumb to even turn away.

(You also learn very quickly to wash your toys as soon as you’re done. Can’t even wait to catch your breath. Calling him nasty makes his tail wag. You know it’s not reasonable to think he’s doing it on purpose.)

“Johnny, drop it!”

Instead of doing that, he drops his front half low, a lacy black pair of underwear in his teeth. He snatched it right out of your laundry basket while you were trying to start the washer.

“I’m going to turn you into a pair of boots. Put those down!”

Chasing a giant wolf-dog for your panties is ill-advised but what are you gonna do? Let him shred your underwear?

“I wanted to wear those out tonight, you bastard!”

You’re supposed to have a date. At this rate, you won’t even be able to shower, never mind get ready. Johnny’s been a nuisance all day, ever since you got off the phone with your mom this morning, updating her about your life and plans for the evening.

Determined, you give up and go to finish the laundry - only to hear a crash and a yelp. Johnny’s knocked over the mirror and stepped in the glass.

“Oh, baby boy,” you groan. “Dammit, John-Bon.”

You text your date for a rain check, then call ahead for the emergency vet. Huh… your first aid kit is much better stocked than you remember.

First | Previous | Next

Masterlist

[junislqve]

afterglow ✶ jake

𝓢. you didn’t realize how much you still needed him, luckily he’s always been yours.

pairs ex!jake x reader content kissing profanity angst fluff self indulgent hooray not proofread wordcount 681 CATALOGUE

well i got lazy to proofread 🙁 thought of jake biting bread while writing this maybe im a little sick

REBLOG if you enjoyed!

you didn’t know how you ended up at this situation. sprawled on jake’s lap as he he held you in place, his hands firmly gripping your waist.

all you could remember was a few hours ago you got a call from jake’s sister, begging you to check up on jake as he wasn’t picking up her calls.

you knew she had been busy lately, packed with work and her engagement she barely had any time to do anything else.

so with a heavy heart, you walk up to the apartment you know all-too-well. up the elevator you’ve stepped in countless times, every corner haunting you with memories.

and just as you braced yourself to knock on his door, it clicked open.

jake raised his head, his eyes meeting yours.

“y/n?”

“hi” your voice was hoarse, you cleared up your throat “missed me?”

after putting out his trash jake invited you in, his place was dimly lit. it was midnight, you didn’t expect any less.

“your sister’s worried about you” you voice out, looking around. not much has changed, the place looked neat, untouched almost. “you should answer her calls” you turn to him, his eyes were already on you.

“my phone broke”

“you should tell her that”

the silence engulfed you both. it wasn’t uncomfortable, but you grew accustomed to it, trying to avoid him anyway.

you knew he was fine, you could already leave now. his sister didn’t ask for anything more than just confirmation that be was alive and well.

“why’d you leave?”

you had it coming.

“what?”

“it was great between us, i thought we were going to be together for long. i thought you loved me”

truth be told, you knew you were selfish. you knew the reason you both had broken up was just because you felt like you were going to suffocate him in the future. it was just a lingering feeling inside of you that couldn’t have left you alone.

so you made up a dumb excuse just to get it over with. just so he couldn’t hurt you before you did.

“i do” true. “i did” false. “it wasn’t-“

you felt it in motion when the power went out and everything went dark. it was pitch black, and the living room had no windows for sunlight.

out of panic, you yelp when you felt a warm hand slide its way towards your waist, your first thought was to push it.

and that brings us to the top.

you couldn’t tell how far jake’s face was from yours but maybe the warm breath on your lips could give you an idea. your arms were planted on his shoulders as his were on your waist.

“the power’s out” he mumbles

“yeah no shit sherlock” it was supposed to come out more sarcastic but barely made past a whisper.

jake’s thumb rubbed smoothing circles on your exposed skin, the warmth from his hand spreading through every corner of your body.

“jake”

he hums, his voice low. it reverberated all throughout your body, lingering.

“i still love you”

and that’s all that it takes for him to trail his hands up to cup your jaw. his lips moving against yours in a rhythm. his lips were soft, you forgot how much you missed this.

he was passionate, savoring every inch of your lips. the taste of your cherry lip gloss addicting to him.

his other hand raised to the nape of your neck, as yours circled his, tugging at his loose hair.

you both only let go when it was hard to breath. face flushed even it you both couldn't see it, chest heaving.

and you felt like it was a shame that you couldn’t see his rose-tinted cheeks and his pink lips. and maybe how blown out his eyes were.

jake only chuckled softly a few seconds later, his head landing on your shoulder.

“i missed you” he says, mumbling against your clothes, his grip on your waist, tightening.

and maybe at that moment you realized you’d give it all up for him once again.

© junislqve 2024. liking, commenting, and rebloging are appreciated.

[licensedproldier]

highlights from the brennan hank interview (aka taking notes on things that i liked or didn't know)

HE STARTED ATTENDING COLLEGE WHEN HE WAS 14?????

immediate jump off topic from hank to ask him about d20 (this happened while fhjy was airing)

"and the greatest project of all, my wonderful family with my wife isabella roland"

bonding over their children

brennan and hank's son both corrected their father's bedtime stories 💀

many elaine lee shoutouts

"his dad met my mom and fell in love" "you did that" "we did that, parent-trapped them"

was pulled out of school in 4th grade for homeschooling because the bullying was so bad....

started a company when they (he and his brother) were fifteen?? called Bootleg Adventures

hank's little awed hiss of "what" to the above piece of information

GOT PART OWNERSHIP OF THE WAYFINDER COMPANY AT 15

"knowledge is something that, when you share it, there's just more. there's no scarcity"

hank staring off into space slightly looking like brennan just blew his mind (we're 11 minutes in)

"we were 14 year old philosophy majors, if you can imagine anything more normal than that"

brennan unable to resist doing fun voices for the people he talks about

he wouldve loved to work at wayfinder full time and said back then hey maybe ill become a famous internet comedian or something and that's how i can help camp. now he's got texts from the staff saying how a bunch of dimension 20 fans have joined and its been a huge boon for them that way 🥺

"it's funny when a really bad plan works. dont make that plan."

"every new community-- is this too sad? no its true" THOSE THINGS ARE NOT MUTUALLY EXCLUSIVE

anyway "for every new community i start with the presupposition that someone is going to pick me up and put me in the trash can" 😭

hank sniping him through the duplex door with "[when you do that] you kind of imagine yourself to be the value you're delivering rather than yourself, or that your value is in what you deliver and not who you are" and brennan going 😐 "that's a great point man"

both of them turning to do pained smiles at the camera 😭

"i think the value is in who you are" "that's really sweet i appreciate that" "but i also love that you deliver"

brennan quoting mary oliver

im starting to feel a little called out guys

robert mckee "stories are not about their premises they're about their conclusions"

brennan also staring off into space slightly thinking about what hank said

the REAL college advice brennan is giving is reportedly "put an egg in your ramen" because thats how you stop your eyes from going "matte finish"

shoutout to vanessa's dumplings for keeping this man alive

"i am ozymandias nerd of nerds, gaze upon my banner and despair"

the moment he felt like something changed was walking into C2E2 and seeing that the biggest hanging banner in the convention hall was of fantasy high. or, as brennan put it, "my dumb face"

"my friends moved in with their partners, the apartment i had with them scattered to the wind, the woman i was dating dumped me after three weeks, and i won a bunch of money on Who Wants to Be a Millionare" "wh- what???"

he taught emily, murph, siobhan, and zac how to play dnd 🥺 and was running a home game for lou at the same time

got hired at um, actually because his name was getting around for being a big dork

zac stepped down from troopers and sam liked brennan's character from a previous casting call (tim curry eating pizza) so he brought him in

its very charming the detail with which brennan remembers these important moments in his life

became a full time cast member in the same week he started dating izzy! "hard to beat week gang!"

"they told us they were launching dropout and everyone had to make a show, which, if you're been trying to make a show your whole life, that's like saying 'bad news guys, there's 24 birthday cakes in the break room and everyone has to eat a whole birthday cake'."

brennan was making a document for a market pitch on an actual-play show when he was called into office and THEY pitched HIM the idea of an actual-play show

"i guess i have tumbled through life to end up here ready to do this"

truly like. one of the guys of all time.

"some of the things that didn't make sense about you make more sense now" hank talking indirectly about how amazing he found all the moving parts of mentopolis and now getting to hear about how long and how many time he's done storytelling it makes sense

"yeah its the one skill"

"i wanted to tell stories before i was anything else"

🎉anti-capitalist rant🎉

"people used to say 'is ucb a cult' and i'd say 'in a cult, somebody is making money'"

HIGH FIVE!!!

[five-rivers]

green is for envy, black is for trigger

A long BNHA oneshot!

.

So, they didn't realize at first what it meant when the teachers announced that Deku was going to UA.  Hell, they didn't really get what it meant when it was just Bakugou that was going.  Not that any of them, least of all Hideo, actually thought Bakugou would get in.  The whole thing was a pipe dream.  Only forty kids from the whole of Japan got into the hero course every year, and even if Bakugou was great at a lot of stuff, those were still long odds.

But Deku?

Deku, who had to have how his own name could be pronounced literally spelled out for him?  Who broke down into tears whenever someone made a joke?  That noodle-armed wimp with a death wish?  Useless, quirkless Deku?

Not a goddamn chance.  Not even with a miracle.

But Deku did get decent grades.  Not as good as Bakugou, but the fact that a genetic throwback got passing grades at all was kind of freakish on its own.  Shinozaki used to joke that it was because he was having special ‘tutoring sessions’ with the teachers, but both the teachers and Bakugou were so uptight about stuff like that.  It was a joke.  A kind of creepy joke, and Hideo was sort of glad when Shinozaki knocked it off, but still. 

Anyway, inasmuch as Hideo thought about it at all, he assumed Deku got into one of the other courses.  Although he only really knew about those because of the sports festival and Bakugou nerding out.  Support and business or something like that.  They probably only took Deku because they needed to meet some kind of pity quota.  Hideo's dad was always talking about stuff like that at dinner.  Mostly about mutant quirks, but Hideo figured it applied to deals like Deku, too.

But life went on, and no matter how ticked off Bakugou was about his glory being snatched or whatever, everyone else had entrance exams too.  There would be time to complain about it later, or not.  Hideo kinda figured Bakugou would eventually appreciate the stress relief beating up Deku would bring even through high school.  He'd heard the hero course was tough.  He certainly took advantage of it now.  Enough that Hideo felt sort of bad about it, now and again.  

The swan dive dare had been a little messed up.  Sure, quirkless people usually killed themselves eventually, but let them do it at their own pace.  

Hideo sort of envisioned him, Bakugou, Shinozaki, and Kanemaru hanging out together on weekends, dragging along whatever new friends they'd managed to make at their new schools.  It'd be fun, hearing about Bakugou's glamorous life as a hero student, and Kanemaru's adventures at the local rich kid school.  

What happened was Kanemaru drifting away, and Bakugou dropping all three of them like a hot potato. 

It was–  Well, for the first few weeks, he'd been mad.  They hadn't been best friends or any sappy crap like that, but it was annoying to realize you'd been tolerated rather than appreciated.  But then he'd heard that UA had been attacked, he'd gotten some new friends, and Kanemaru started hanging out again when he figured out all the cigarette hookups at his fancy school were trash.  

And he was sort of looking forward to seeing people try to beat Bakugou up on national television.  

So there was that.  

But what he'd seen instead–

There was no way.  There was just no way.  

But there it was, on national television.  

Deku.

Useless, quirkless Deku.  In the sports festival.  In the third event.  

With a quirk.  

It had to be some kind of trick.  That's what he thought at first.  But it'd have to be one hell of a trick to fake a whole quirk like thag out of nowhere, and there was no way Deku was that smart.  

Maybe he'd been replaced or something.  Hideo had heard of people with body snatching quirks.  But, then, that'd be two quirks, and whatever urban legends said, Hideo wasn't dumb enough to believe in the quirk boogieman.  

Could he have been faking being quirkless?  The very thought made Hideo nauseous.  No.  No way.  Not a chance.  No one with power would tolerate that.  

There had to be another explanation.  

His phone was buzzing.  The group chat was going wild.  

He scanned through the messages.  Shinozaki was disgusting, but he had good ideas, sometimes, and Kanemaru got rumors from his rich kid friends that took much longer to reach Gungan High, and their other friends were more of the same, but maybe one of them could see what Hideo himself was missing.  

His eyes stopped on one of Shinozaki's texts.  

i bet its trigger

where would deku eve  get trigger, Hideo typed.  

idk but its not like you can but a quirk on the street

Theres a guy in my class whose quirk makez every1 atoung him sing in tune, wrote Kanemaru, maybe its like that

with strength like tgat?  r u serious rn noone like that ia gonna work for a quirkless deku unless he has more money than god its trigger ffs

But whered he get it?? asked Hideo.  And would it even worj on a omeone Quiklessm?m

u cab get trigger cheap if yu know where to look

And how the hell did Shinozaki know that?  He and Hideo weren't exactly squeaky clean, with the cigarettes and all, but trigger was something else.  Like heroin was before the dawn of quirks.  

deku prolly just has some bs weak asf quirk that hes juicing

That nauseous feeling came back, and this time, Hideo was able to identify the emotion fueling it as mostly anger.  Red, hot, roiling anger.  

It wasn't enough that Deku stole a spot at UA from someone who'd live past twenty, but he'd taken a hero spot?  And he'd done it with drugs like the cheater he was?

If Hideo had been allowed to take trigger during his entrance exams, he'd have gotten into a hero school, too!  Hell, maybe even UA, if Deku could do it.  Hideo, after all, had a quirk that could be used even without trigger!

weve dot tobdon somethin

*got to do

It only took a minute for Shinozaki to reply lik what??

idk tellthe police if it's a druf thing right? Or just tell ua

He flicked away from the chat and, hands still shaking with rage, started looking up how to file a police report.  

.

“And you think your former classmate is using trigger because…?”

“Because he didn't have a quirk like that before!” said Hideo, frustrated.  No one was listening to them.  

“UA's got a pretty great training program,” said the police officer at the desk, a bored-looking woman with fish scales around her eyes and ears.  She reached over to a small spray bottle and spritzed herself.  “Pick any one of those hero kids and you'll probably hear the same thing.”

“You don't get it,” said Hideo.  “We all thought he was quirkless.”

“Well, clearly not,” said the woman.

“Yeah, but don't you think that's a little suspicious, that he never used his quirk at all before, and now he comes out with that?”

“Yeah,” said Kanemaru, who was ridiculously intimidated by the police station for a rich guy.  Shinozaki hadn't even come, claiming he was too high to be anywhere near a police station.  “What he said.  Deku never used his quirk at school or anything.”

The woman raised a scaly eyebrow.  “Did it occur to you that your classmate was simply following the law against public quirk use?  Or that he didn't want to use a quirk that broke his bones.  Quirk counselor probably told him not to use it.”

“He never went to the quirk counselor at our school.”

“You know private counselors are a thing right?  I'd be seeing a specialist for a quirk like that.”  She leaned back in her chair and looked up at them.  “Do you really think a school full of heroes wouldn't notice something like that?  Save yourselves some stress and go home.”

“But–”

“Seriously.  Go home.”

.

“Any luck?” asked Shinozaki, whose eyes were indeed bloodshot.  

“No,” said Hideo.  

“And we haven't heard back from the school, either,” said Kanemaru mournfully.

“Figures,” said Shinozaki.  “The police suck.”  He twirled a blunt between his fingers, then lengthened them to offer it to Hideo.  “Want a hit.”

“No,” said Hideo, wrinkling his nose against the rancid smell.  

“Yes,” said Kanemaru, snatching it.  “God, that sucked.  What do we do now?”

“I don't know,” said Hideo.  “We've got to get some kind of proof, otherwise the police won't take us seriously.”

“We could follow him,” suggested Kanemaru.  

“Hell, no,” said Shinozaki.  “You remember what chasing him was like in middle school.”

“We caught him whenever we wanted to,” said Kanemaru.  

“Hell, yeah, we did.  But he always knew when we were following him, and if he's pulling this off, he's not using where anyone can see.”

“What then?” demanded Hideo, frustrated.  “Break into his house?  Find his stash?”

Shinozaki snorted.  “When his mom works from home?  Putting Deku in jail isn't much good if we're there, too.”

“How the hell do you know Deku's mom works from home?” asked Hideo.

“Unlike you, I listened to Bakugou's ranting.  She's a programmer or something dumb like that.”

Kanemaru perked up.  “Maybe we could ask Bakugou!” 

“After he ditched us?  If he hasn't done anything yet, he's not gonna.  Give me back my weed already, Kanemaru.”

Reluctantly, Kanemaru returned the blunt.  

“There is one way, though,” said Shinozaki as he took another hit.  “It'd be real risky, though, and it'd cost ya.”

“Yeah?” asked Hideo.  “What's that?”

“Well,” said Shinozaki, “someone with a habit has a different reaction to someone taking trigger for the first time.  We get that on camera, and it's all over for him.”

“I thought we couldn't follow him,” said Kanemaru. 

“I'm not talking about following him, moron.  I'm talking about an ambush.  The freak still has to go home sometime, doesn't he?”

“Wait,” said Hideo.  “You want us to, what, pin down someone high on trigger, shoot him up with even more, and then just stand around filming him?  Who's the moron here, exactly?  Where would we even get trigger?  It's not like weed or tobacco.  We can't bribe a college student to go into a trigger dispensary.”

“The trigger's the easy part,” said Shinozaki.  “So long as Kanemaru can cough up the money.  I know a guy.”

“I'm not fighting a guy on trigger!” said Kanemaru, shaking his head.  “That's worse than roids!  And he's got to be doing those, too, right?  And he's got combat training or whatever, right?”

“Freaking chill already.  Quirk or not, it's still crybaby Deku.  No one's asking you to fight him, anyway.  What’re you going to do?  Pop out your eyes at him?”

“It's not like your quirk is much better,” said Hideo, trying to channel the police officer's cool skepticism.  “I'm not fighting anyone alone.”  According to his dad, that was the height of stupidity.  You always brought backup.  

“How is it that I'm the highest one here and the only one that can think?  We aren't fighting anyone.”

“You know someone who takes hits or something, too?”

“No, idiot.  I'm talking about your after school book club.  How'd you think they'll react to someone who's basically quirkless putting one over on people with natural talent?”

Hideo's spine had gone as stiff as a board.  “How the hell do you know about that?”  Even his parents didn't know about that!  Not that his parents knew anything.  

“I listen, duh.  To spell it all out, my proposal is that moneybags here gives me cash to get the trigger, then our literature lover can get his meta friends riled up and ready to do the delivery, and we stand well clear with cameras rolling.”

“I don't know…” said Hideo.  He was totally behind liberation philosophy, people should be allowed to use their quirks to their fullest extent, but he was pretty sure that the people most likely to help with this kind of thing were the radical hierarchists, and they skeeved Hideo out.   

“You never know anything,” complained Shinozaki.  “And you say that I'm not civic-minded.  Whatever.  Something awful's going to happen, and neandertoe there will be right in the middle of it and you'll come crawling back to me and my plan.”

.

Hosu was burning.  

Hosu was burning, and Stain had almost killed another hero.

Hosu was burning, Stain had almost killed another hero, and right in the middle of Stain's insane motive rant video was Deku.  

Hideo picked up his phone and called Shinozaki.  

.

Izuku wasn't so far removed from who he'd been in junior high that he couldn't tell when he was being followed.  However, unlike when he'd been in junior high, there was more than one reason to follow him.  In junior high, the only people that followed him were bullies, teenaged and otherwise, looking for a soft target.  

But now?  It could be anything from sports festival enthusiasts to the police (he had just broken a bunch of quirk use laws) to one of the villains he'd whirlpooled at the USJ, out for revenge.  

The only people he was sure weren't following him were Kacchan and All Might.  Kacchan, because stealth was one of the few things he was definitively bad at, and All Might, because being stalked by the number one hero had a very distinctive feeling, and this wasn't it.  Besides, the figures he saw ducking out of his line of sight didn't have All Might's proportions, and he was almost a hundred percent sure that All Might only came in two shapes.

But they hadn't done any units on stealth or counterespionage in class, yet, so all Izuku had to draw on in terms of solution to his problems were his hit-and-miss strategies from junior high.  He couldn't even call for help, because the fight with Stain had trashed his phone.  He was hoping he could convince his mom to replace it with a mid-range hero model, but he hadn't quite managed yet. 

So, his plan was as follows:

Play dumb as long as possible.  If he started running, so would they.  The closer he got to home before they closed in, the better.  

Keep an eye out for patrolling heroes, policemen, or even convenience stores with sufficiently intimidating cashiers.  He didn't think there were any suitable ones at the moment.  The conbini closest to Izuku's house was staffed by a jerk who always tried to steal Izuku's change from now until midnight, but he might still come across one. 

In case of being cut off, don't run randomly if there's another choice.  Running randomly let the pursuers pick the route.  Izuku knew paths, shortcuts, and hazards only people familiar with the area would know.  He should take advantage of that. 

Get home and call for help.  Failing that, get to Kacchan's.  If it was just bullies, they'd give up.  If it was a more sinister group…

An unusually large group of older teens turned onto the road in front of Izuku, all wearing hoodies and oversized medical masks.  Izuku promptly turned off the road, jogging through an alley and briskly striding onward.  

If he wasn't already in trouble over the fight with Stain, he might have decided to use Full Cowl to jump his way home… except, what would he do if he accidentally ran into a person and hurt them, or broke someone's windows or something like that?  

Maybe, if he went to the park, then cut through the thrift store in that one basement…  No, if there were as many people following him as he thought, they'd be able to cover all the exits, even there.   On the other hand, if the nicer person was at the counter, he might let Izuku use his phone. 

He wished there was somewhere he could just hide until the people following him gave up, some building or business he could duck into, but that would require people who were actually willing to intervene in a beating, and most of the people around here… weren't.  Some of them would call the police or hero hotline, but (with a few notable exceptions, none of whom lived or worked in Musutafu or its suburbs) even the best heroes couldn't just appear as soon as they were called.  That's why they patrolled. 

Speaking of patrols, finding one of those would also be good.  But Izuku's mental timetable put the nearest one a mile east, if Kamui Woods was his usual amount late and not extra late, which was also possible.  Kamui Woods was pretty popular, so he got stopped by fans regularly.  He didn't usually come this way, anyway.  The main villain hotspot in the area was the train station.  

Mount Lady sometimes did surprise patrols, to boost her image, but Izuku hadn't figured out the pattern of those yet, if there was one, and he didn't have his phone to check if she was doing one today. 

Although, if he had his phone, he could just call…  Who would he call?  Not his mom, most people who were okay with beating Izuku up wouldn't hesitate to beat uo his mom, too.  Kacchan was still at his internship for another day, and wouldn't have picked up the phone for Izuku, anyway.  He wasn’t sure where most of his other classmates lived.  All Might would come get him if he called, and All Might wasn't busy as All Might - he had a car - but Izuku really didn't want to bother him.  Calling the police, well, they wouldn't do anything unless he was actively getting beaten up, which looped right back around to the time thing.  

Izuku had always thought it was remarkable, how fast you could get the crap kicked out of you if enough feet were willing to do the kicking.  

At this point, Izuku had counted six sets of willing feet.  Or two, if they both had shapeshifting quirks.  He shouldn't rule something like that out.  

But he had the sinking feeling that there were more than two.  Or six, for that matter.  A lot more.  

He cut through the ground floor of an apartment building, ignoring how the doorman swore at him.  He went out the service entrance.  He wasn't too far from home, now.  

But before he'd gone another street, he'd picked up another tail.  Or regained one.  He wasn’t sure.  

Whoever or whatever was behind this was much more organized than the bullies and muggers who went after him in high school.  He was- well, he'd already been scared, but now he was concerned, too, and that was a different kind of emotion entirely.  Sort of.  Probably.  

When he got home, he'd call All Might.  All of the really bad organizations who'd want to target Izuku would be connected to All Might anyway.  

After this next corner, he just had to go one more block, and then–

Oh.  

Somehow, Izuku hadn’t considered that the people following him might already know where he lived, and be waiting there.  

He hesitated for only a minute as his brain registered a group too large for him to take on even with One for All.  

There wasn't anyone for him to protect here but himself.  

He ran.  

New plan: Evade capture.  Acquire a phone.  Call the emergency line.  Use One for All only if he was backed into a corner; he didn't think the police would be amused by a second quirk use incident less than a week after the first.  

Hands reached out towards him.  He ducked away from several, and almost ran into another, tipped with sharp claws.  They raked over his arm, barely avoiding drawing blood.  The owner of the hand laughed, and another person kicked at Izuku's ankles.  

Izuku jumped over the feet, and he flipped the next person who tried to grab him.  He could hear the crowd - and it was a big enough group to call it a crowd - jeering and calling out to him.  It was nothing really identifying, unfortunately.  They were calling him Deku, quirkless, and a fake, but the groups of people who would know to call him those things included both former classmates and incredibly serious villains.  

The sidewalk underneath Izuku's feet crumbled, and his heart leapt into his throat - Shigaraki?  No.  Both the pattern of destruction and its products were different.  Shigaraki powdered things.  The concrete here was still in recognizable chunks.  

He caught himself with his other foot, adjusted for the new terrain, and kept running.  A volley of dark beams forced him to swerve and duck and turn onto another street.  He thought there was a conbini up ahead– no, that was the next street down, but that apartment building left its ground floor open–

The broken concrete under his feet started to twitch and levitate.  He changed direction again, now running on the street itself.  There were hardly any cars here, even on a normal day.  Today, the streets were dead, otherwise he'd try waving one down.  How had they managed that?  Bribery?  Stolen construction and detour signs?  He used his backpack to shield himself when the levitating chunks of concrete pelted him, then dropped it as he was strafed by a spurt of fire.  

He hissed as he patted out his sleeves, then reflexively punched the next masked face that appeared in his vision.  His muscles and tendons in that arm pulsed with pain, still not entirely recovered from their ordeals in both the sports festival and the fight with Stain.  He switched tactics for the next person who tried to grab him, sweeping their feet.

There were some really cool quirks on display here, but they all felt rather… unpolished.  Unpracticed.  It kind of pointed away from these people being career villains.  But then, so did their ages.  Some of these people were adults, but not many. 

That didn't mean they weren't working for worse villains. 

A pop of compressed air went off to his left, and a pair of wires went shooting after him.  They had tasers, too?  

Something slammed into the ground around him, creating deep circular indentations.  Telekinesis?  An invisible giant?  No, gravity manipulation.  Izuku stumbled and was forced to use One for All just to get back up, and then he was hit over the back of the head with something.  

He lashed out, caught flesh, and struggled away from the grip.  But he'd lost what little lead he'd had on the main body of the pack.  They were circling, now, cutting off escape routes.  Could he use One for All and Full Cowling to get up on a roof?  Not without fighting people with wall-crawling quirks.  Still, that was fewer people than he was dealing with now.  He tensed, getting ready to jump, and was suddenly hit with extreme vertigo, intense enough to drop him to his knees. 

When it passed, he looked up to see a foot coming towards his face.  He wasn't able to dodge.  

The only good thing about the next few minutes was that One for All kept them from pinning him.  He was hit with dozens of quirks and dozens of feet.  He pushed them off, but he didn't have a good idea of how much of One for All was too much for a person to handle without serious injury. 

But then someone - someone with at least a mild strength quirk - got hold of his right arm and twisted. 

The world went wobbly, and the next thing Izuku knew, he was on the ground, restrained by a truly painful submission hold and multiple quirks, including the vertigo and gravity quirks. 

“Come on, bring it over!”  The movement in the crowd became more purposeful.  

Left hand, pinky finger.  Letting it heal naturally if Recovery Girl wouldn't help would suck, but not as much as letting these people do what they wanted to him, he was sure.  He flicked his finger and the wind pressure pushed back the nearest members of the crowd, sending them toppling into one another.  Izuku staggered to his feet, still dizzy.  Up was the only way out, but he wasn't sure he could aim–

Something sharp sunk into his right bicep, and he punched the person holding it.  Which, ow, his pinky.  

He pulled the sharp thing out of his arm, which wasn't the best first aid decision he could have made but he was still learning.  A hypodermic needle? 

A minute later, the needle fell from Izuku's nerveless fingers.  It didn't fall far.  When had he fallen down again?  

There was a burning sensation spreading down his arm and across his shoulders.  It started as a surface-level itch, but then it went more and deeper, and–

Izuku had thought he knew pain.  Shattering three of his four limbs in one go at the entrance exam, breaking his legs at the USJ, repeatedly breaking his fingers at the sports festival– He hadn’t done those things for fun.  He thought he knew burning, too, from ten years as Kacchan's punching bag.

This was different.  This wasn't just his skin burning, melting, his blood was on fire, his bones.  He was cracking open with every beat of his too-fast heart, something terrible trying to get out.  

This was agony, all the way down to his soul.  

.

Hideo was feeling pretty good about things, actually.  Elated, almost, like on a good roller coaster ride.  Yeah, there were risks, but this was kind of like hero work, wasn't it?  Giving the bad guy a beatdown and exposing him for the whole world to see.  

As soon as they got the needle in him, everyone stepped off, giving Deku room for his freak out and Hideo and the others a clear shot at the action with their phones.  

“Crap,” said Shinozaki.  “Crap, crap, crap.”

“What?” asked Hideo, distracted by how Deku was writhing on the ground.  It almost looked like he was fighting himself.  Freak.

“It's not like I got him the good stuff that goes down smooth, but that's not–  If he's a user, he shouldn't–  That's not what he should be acting like!”

Hideo's good mood vanished fast.  “Wait, you mean he wasn't on trigger…?”

“It's fine, it's fine, we just can't post this anywhere, we've got to stay quiet, it's not like he'll be able to identify us–  We didn't touch him.”

But that wasn't the imminent problem, was it, if Deku had a quirk like that?  If he had a quirk like that, and they'd just given him a shot of trigger?  A quirk booster?  

“Uh, um, guys?” said Kanemaru.  “When you say don't post it…”

“Yeah,” said Shinozaki, backing away, “I mean don't post it anywhere, forget that it happened.  Never speak of it again.  All that good stuff.”

“But I, um, I sort of… livestreaming.  I'm livestreaming.”

“You idiot–”

“Hey!  Hey!  Get away from my friend, you creeps!”

.

Ochako flopped down on her bed, doing her best impression of bonelessness.  Her internship with Gunhead had gone great, but she was so frickin’ tired.  She was glad it ended half a day before everyone else's - except for those guys who got caught up in Hosu, she guessed.  Iida was still in the hospital, but apparently Deku had gone home last night. 

She sighed.  She'd text him, but he'd emailed everyone saying his phone broke, so that was out.  So… she'd probably just scroll through the internet… it was a peanut butter and crackers for dinner sort of night…

Her phone rang.  She frowned at the number, but answered.  

“Uraraka!  Dieu merci, I was not sure you would answer!”

Ochako sat up.  “Aoyama?  What's wrong?”

“It is Midoriya!  I have found this, this livestream, of a bunch of gangsters chasing him through the streets.  And I call the police, but they do not get there so fast, and all our classmates, they are on their internships, and he must be near home–”

“Send me the link,” said Ochako, slamming her feet into her shoes and grabbing the can of pepper spray her mom had gotten her when she first started to live alone.  “Jiro and Mineta should still be in town, too, they got internships with local heroes.”  Who else was still around?  Ochako knew about Jiro, because she'd considered interning with Death Arms, too, and she remembered where Mineta was going, because he'd been gross about it, but there had to be others still around.  “You call them, okay?”

“Oui, Uraraka, I am sorry I cannot help more–”

“It's fine, it's fine,” said Ochako, jogging down the stairs outside her apartment.  She didn't remember where Aoyama was having his internship.  “The police, they're sending a hero, right?”

“I do not know.  They did not say, only that it would take time, that they have to confirm, that they do not know where this is, this video.”

She reached the bottom of the stairs.  “Okay, okay, I've got to go now, but you'll send the link to the video?”

“Oui, it is sent.  Be careful, Uraraka.”

“I will.  Bye.”

She hung up, then, and quickly navigated to the link Aoyama had sent her.  She swallowed back the anger she felt when she saw masked and hooded adults grappling a clearly-injured Deku, and started scanning the video for landmarks and street signs.  There had to be something. 

She rewound slowly, slowly.  The street signs were too small and blurry in the video, she couldn't read them.  

Wait.  

She scrolled forward.  That apartment building had its name on the front in huge kana.  She plugged the name into her maps app.  It wasn't too far from here.  If she ran– 

She was moving before she finished the thought.  She knew where it was, where Deku was.  

What she'd do when she got there… she wasn't sure.  There were at least thirty guys in the video.  But people who did stuff like this were ultimately cowards.  Sometimes, if they knew someone was watching them, if they knew someone saw what they were doing, they'd stop.  That's how Ochako's parents stopped a yakuza beating, once.  They'd just gone out with a broom, a baseball bat, and a phone connected to the police. 

… there had been a lot fewer of them, too, though, if she remembered correctly.  

It didn't matter.  If she had to use her quirk, she'd use it.  It'd be her first public quirk use citation, and if that meant she was suspended or expelled… it didn't matter.  What kind of hero would she be, if she didn't do her best to help a friend? 

She turned the last corner and saw the knot of villains.  She couldn't see Izuku from here, but he was visible on the livestream clearly enough.  

She dialed the emergency line.  “I'm on Obi Street, near the Millenium Building,” she said, once the operator had answered.  “There's a group of thirty villains beating up a student.”

“How do you know they're villains, ma'am?”

“They're using their quirks.” 

“Understood, I'm sending your location to the nearest hero.  Please find a place to shelter until they arrive.  Do not approach the villains, and stay on the line.”

Normally, Ochako would have followed instructions.  Honest.  But the villains moved strangely, and it was Deku.  He was basically her best friend, especially since Sakura back home stopped talking to her for stupid reasons.  

“Hey!  Hey!  Get away from my friend, you creeps!”

“Ma'am--" said the operator, but Ochako wasn't interested.  

Some of the villains turned towards her.  Others, apparently, hadn't heard her.  

“Who the hell're you?” demanded one of them, who was clearly used to using his mass to loom.  Joke was on him.  It didn't matter how much mass he had when she could use her quirk to negate it.  “Some kind of pervert slut who gets off taking it from subhuman freaks?”

Ochako didn't know how to respond to that, so she didn't.  “I have the police on the phone, so you'd better get lost!”

“Ma'am, please–”

“You think those fascist pigs scare us?  We're part of the new revolution, the–”

The big man stumbled and looked back.  The other villains jostled into each other, disorganized, and for the first time since looking at the livestream, Ochako saw Deku.  

He looked terrible.  Of course he looked terrible.  He was being beaten by a small mob.  He was bruised and bloodied and panting.  

His tongue was black.  

There was something else black, too.  Something like a gnarled, black root, growing from Deku's tattered sleeve and wrapping around the villain's ankle. 

“No,” said Deku, except it didn't sound very much like him at all.  

A thick, opaque fog exploded into being.  And then the screaming started.  

.

Hands gathered Izuku up.  Not gentle, exactly, but careful.  Not hurting.  They pulled him through the dark where lights flickered, uncertainly, like memories.  He opened his eyes and saw their faces, glowing, like fires that refused to be extinguished.  He knew them, but he didn't.  They could have been his, but they weren’t. 

“Ninth,” theh said, they whispered, they chanted.  There was power, there, burning and immense, and behind that power was purpose, but it was distorted, warped and shredded around the edges.  

This was not how this moment was supposed to go.  

There should have been triumph.  This should have been sacred.  A sharing of memories, a meeting of minds, a point of convergence, of singularity.  

How dare they?

How dare they–

–trap them - poison this - forget history - throw away this peace - hurt the boy - call them useless - touch Toshi's child - young Midoriya - say those things to Uraraka?

Uraraka was here?

Hush.  

Or–

Listen.  

Feel this.  Every strength they ever had.  Every memory that could aid their task.  Every skill, every scrap of knowledge, every quirk, every second of every year spent running-hiding-fighting.  All of it, brought together and finally expressed.  

They knew about trigger.  They had seen it, in all its gruesome forms.  Its purpose was to strengthen quirks, but the side effects - bodies twisted, quirks out of control, brains working at a fraction of their normal capacity.

One for All was a quirk.  A strange quirk, a difficult to understand quirk, but still a quirk, and everything within it was part of a quirk, and every thought they had happened in the brains of their Eighth and Ninth.  

At the moment, they were insane.  And they knew it.  And they didn't care.  

The purpose of One for All was to stop All for One, but that kind of specificity was a human foible, not something so easily encoded in the core of a quirk.  The end to which it put itself was the very destruction of evil and the eternal rebirth of hope.  Its favorite means was violence.  

“What are you talking about?”

Izuku tilted his head to one side.  Had he been talking?  Mumbling?  Muttering?  He should probably work on that.  But it didn't seem to matter so much when Blackwhip and Fifth were whispering to him the secrets of how to use rage to rip an enemy limb from limb, and Danger Sense hovered around him like a protective halo, Hikage watching his back.  

They were so, so, angry that it had spilled back over into serenity, like an overflow error on a computer.  

A fist came flying for him out of the swirling vapors of Smokescreen.  As soon as it brushed his cheek, Gear Shift grudgingly reversed its momentum.  Second did not approve of their current stronghold, but that did not mean he would permit an attack.

There was a snap, and then a scream, the man– no, the boy.  He couldn't be more than a year out of high school, if that.  The boy grasped at his broken wrist, howling.  

Izuku hadn't even done anything.  It was his own fault.  

Smokescreen whispered of an attempted escape, and Blackwhip dragged her back.  They weren't done with them yet.  

He didn't want to kill them or anything.  They just wanted to hurt them a little.  Ten years of quirklessness… twice.  And four lifetimes on the other side, running from people who thought meta powers were curses, or a symptom of a disease.   It was the same kind of bigotry, just reversed.  

There was just so much pain.  It hurt so much.  In his chest, in their head, in their hearts.  

Maybe if these little monsters felt some of it, they wouldn't do it again.  Maybe some of it would go away.  

.

Hideo stumbled through fog bank after fog bank, and started to wonder if he should call his mom.  He didn't always get on with his parents, but, if he was going to die…

There was a sort of scraping sound.  Then, footsteps.  They had to be close, close enough to touch.  The heavy fog dampened sound eerily.  Hideo froze, hardly daring to breathe. 

“Stop it!  Stay back!  How are you still moving?”

“Your vertigo quirk has its weaknesses, although it's useful for combat otherwise.  I'd ask you why you aren't trying to be a hero, but it's clear the problem is temperament.  Or, well, your entire personality, to be quite honest.”

There was a thump, a cracking sound and a shriek.  

“Stop!  Stop!  What do you want?  I can– my family has money.  Connections.  We can get you anything you want!  Just stop!”

“There is nothing we want more than you never doing anything like this again.”

The voice sounded like Deku's, but the cadence was all wrong.  Deku was a meek, shivering, stuttering nerd, and Hideo would have sworn that he'd stay that way, no matter what drugs they gave him.  

“I won't!  I won't!”

“It's nice of you to offer, but the only way people like you stop is of they're forced to stop, or if they're made to regret what they've done.  A lot.  All the time.”

“No, no, please!  No!”

There was an ugly cracking noise, and then a wet thump.

“Pathetic.”

Oh, god.  Oh, god, what kind of quirk was this, even?  There was no way Deku had a quirk like this all this time. 

A horrible thought came to him then.  What if it wasn't Deku?  Body-snatching quirks were a thing.  Hell, Bakugou had been targeted by one of those guys just last year.  And Deku had no friends, basically no family.  Who would notice when he started acting different?  Other than them, apparently. 

That was actually kind of sad.  Hideo would probably have had more pity to spare for Deku, though, if he wasn't using it all on himself. 

There hadn't been any sounds over there for a while, now.  Maybe it was safe to move again? 

“Hello, Hidaka Hideo,” said Deku's voice, right in his ear.  “It's been a long time.”

.

Kyoka wasn't entirely sure what was going on.  She had only been on the phone with Aoyama for a few confused seconds before the large-scale villain attack alarm went off, and what Death Arms said to her just after hadn't helped matters.  

Midoriya?  Taking trigger?  That didn't make any sense at all.  He was friends with Iida.  Totally straightedge.  

But apparently, he'd been given trigger.  As in, drugged, by a gang trying to beat him up.   Which, honestly, made even less sense.  Giving trigger to a guy you were fighting with…  It was like throwing a pair of brass knuckles to a guy you just hit, and daring them to do one better.  It was stupid. 

It was also on video, so Kyoka had to admit that some people were just that dumb, as unbelievable as that sounded. 

Whatever the Mensa squad's original goal had been, the result was… this.  A fat, billowing cloud that occasionally sprouted writhing black tentacles and faint but disturbing screams.  She didn't know what kind of quirks could combine to make something like this, and she didn't care.  She wasn't Midoriya.  The villains must have gotten spooked by Midoriya's quirk or something.  She just had to hope that they hadn't gotten spooked because Midoriya had broken all the bones in his body.  

What had happened at the sports festival had been… hard to watch.  

“Alright,” said Death Arms, “before we go in there, let's get some things down.  Earphone Jack, this Midoriya is your classmate?”

“Yeah,” said Kyoka.  

“He's not going to be himself, jumped up on trigger.  Don't try to get near him, or any of these villains.  He won't listen to reason, and I'll bet that these guys've been taking trigger, too, for a quirk effect like this. You're going to be flanked the whole time by these two,” he said, nodding towards a pair of sidekicks.  “The only reason we're bringing you with us is because we need someone who can navigate in all that crap, not for fighting.  Understood?”

Kyoka nodded.  “Understood.”

“Everyone else, go for restraint over injury, where possible.  We don't know if there are civilians other than Midoriya caught up in this.”

He spent another couple of seconds arranging the marching order, but then he finally gave them the order to move in.  

Inside the cloud, the air was cool, and drier than Kyoka had expected.  Not like fog, more like smoke.  Somehow, the screaming she'd heard on the outside was quieter in here as well.  Must be some quirk…  

“Group of three, that way,” she said, pointing.  

They took care of the villains quickly.  They didn't seem much older than Kyoka, and their quirk control was much worse.  They were tied up in class-C restraints in seconds.  

“We're going to have to carry them back out,” said Death Arms with a grimace.  “We can't just leave them here.”

“Oh, thank god,” said one of the villains.  “You guys are actual heroes!”

“As opposed to what?” asked Death Arms, gruffly.  

“The punk is probably talking about me.”

Kyoka jumped and turned.  Whoever that was, they'd managed to sneak up on them while making no sound at all.  Not even breathing.

The man was bald, wearing leather, and the same sort of rugged as Death Arms.  He also sort of… faded into the smoky clouds around him, almost as if he were made of them.  Even accounting for mutations, his smile was a bit too wide, his eyes a little too blank. 

The black, lashing tentacles around him, however, looked very real, especially when they scraped along the already-battered asphalt near his cloudy feet.  

“And who're you?” asked Death Arms, readying his fists.”

“They should have stayed away from our kid,” said the man without moving his mouth.  Then, in Midoriya's voice,  “It hurts! “

“Where-” started Death Arms, but the man was opening his mouth, wrist and wider.  Too wide.  Inside was a perfectly black hole. 

A faint rushing noise was the only warning before a dozen of those black tentacles came pouring out of the man's mouth.  They jostled and grabbed and wrapped around, and by the time Kyoka got her wits about her again, she and the rest of the heroes had been deposited outside the cloud. 

Death Arms looked shaken.  “I think we might need backup for this one.”

.

Ochako caught another glimpse of yellow gloves and a fluttering cape.  It was a hero.  It had to be, even if Ochako didn't recognize her.  Now, if only Ochako could get her attention…

She pushed through another bank of smoke.  The smoke was… weird.  When it first appeared, it looked like it was coming from Deku, but that couldn't be right.  He had a strength enhancement.  Like All Might.  But then, those black root things weren't a normal part of Deku's quirk, either.  

Maybe it was like Tsuyu's quirk.  She had a lot of different things she could do, and you normally wouldn't describe it as a jumping quirk instead of a frog mutation, but it did let her jump high.  She just… wasn't sure why Deku would do that.  Unless he didn't know?  

Ugh, all these things could wait until later, when her friend wasn't in trouble. 

“Miss Hero!” she tried again.  “Please wait!”

And this time, to Ochako's surprise, she did.  

She was tall - but not as tall as Ochako first thought.  She was floating above the ground, and the way the smoke clung to her…

“It's yours, then, the smoke?” asked Ochako, a little out of breath.  

“Not exactly,” she said, in a voice as thin as the smoke. 

A partner, then?  “The person they were beating up was my friend, do you know where he is?  Is he safe?”

The hero inclined her head, and then dissolved, the smoke that made up her body tearing away from itself.  The clouds behind her patted as well, revealing a large crater, and–

“Deku!”

She hopped down into the crater, avoiding broken electrical cables and gushing pipes.  

Deku looked even worse than he had minutes ago.  Red and green sparks danced over his body, and his skin was a ghostly gray.  He was shaking, and clutching at the ground, raw fingertips digging deep grooves into the remaining concrete.  

But before she could get to him, smoke swirled out of his body, and two more figures coalesced out of it.  A slender white-haired man in a t-shirt and loose pants, and a shorter, younger man in a long, high-collared coat that reminded Ochako of Best Jeanist's costume. 

“Wait a moment,” said the white-haired one.  

“Why?” demanded Ochako.  “Who are you people?”

“It's people like this that give my brother so much power,” said the man, which answered nothing. “They could use their abilities to help, but instead they act out of jealousy and envy.”

“Unless there's been a big change recently,” said the other man, “that dosage of Japanese trigger lasts for three minutes, maximum.”

Ochako looked down at her dead phone.  How long had it been?

“Wait a moment,” repeated the white-haired man.  “There is still justice to be done, there are still things to be made right.”

“I'm sure you're tough.  Are you tougher than concrete?” asked the other man.  “We don't remember that.”

“Wait a moment.  I wish my brother were here, so I could pound his stupid face in.”

“We really, really don't.”

“Uh,” said Ochako.  Were these guys, like, all there?  “There are villains here who tried to hurt him, so–”

“Wait a moment,” said the white-haired man.  He sounded frustrated.  “Wait a moment.  They are being discouraged.”

“Vehemently.”

“Wait a moment.  He won't remember this.  Tell him we will speak again.”

“We'll try, anyway.”

Ochako looked between the two of them.  Maybe she could run by them… Were their bodies even solid? 

Deku shuddered, and the force behind the movement sent more cracks through the concrete, deepened the crater.  Ochako threw up her arm to protect her eyes from dust. 

When she lowered her arms again, the figures of the two men were dissipating back into smoke, and the smoke itself was wisping away.  Deku was lying still, now, eyes closed, breathing heavily.  Ochako checked him carefully for quirk effects, but didn't see any, and approached. 

“Deku?”

He didn't respond.  According to the first aid course she'd taken to boost her chances of being accepted at UA, she shouldn't move him unless there was imminent danger, in case of broken bones or neck injuries.  The pipes and wires… that situation would probably hold for a while longer.  The villains…

She climbed back out of the crater and looked around.  She could see both sides of the street, now, even if it was hazy.  The glass in most of the nearby windows was broken.  The street itself and the sidewalks were gravel.  One streetlight had been knocked over.  

And scattered all over were the prone forms of the villains.  They didn't look like they were moving.  Ochako stared at the nearest one, frightened, until she saw that they were still breathing.  So she should stay with Deku until first responders got there.  Hopefully, that would be soon.

Her phone chirped as it came back to life, whatever quirk effect keeping it inoperable disappearing with the smoke. She looked down at it, briefly.  It was an older model, and usually took a minute or longer to turn back on all the way. 

She scanned the street again, squinting to see through the thinning smoke, and, oh thank goodness.  That was Death Arms, wasn't it?  And Jiro!  She waved frantically.  

This whole thing had lasted only a few minutes, but it had felt like forever. 

.

In other news, the large-scale disruption in residential Musutafu today occurred when a group of thirty-two villains chased down and injected a UA student with trigger.  The villains were mostly high school and college students with otherwise clean records.  According to Musutafu PD, the villains believed the student was somehow using trigger to fake having a quirk.  A statement released by UA with the permission of the student's guardian not only refutes those claims, but includes select medical data from the student's most recent hospital visit, only days before.  These records show no evidence of the student having ever taken any form of performance enhancing drug.  The student was the only civilian injured in the event, and is recovering at an undisclosed location.  The police are investigating the possibility of classifying the incident as a hate crime.  Now, Ms. Long with the weather–

.

Izuku pried his eyes open blearily.  His head was pounding, his bones ached,  and his mouth tasted like he'd licked Dagobah Beach.  Before he'd cleaned it up.  Where was he and what was he doing there?  

He blinked a few times.  Actually, that ceiling looked familiar…

“Ah!” said Recovery Girl, who was suddenly in his field of vision.  “You're awake.”

Before Izuku could ask what had happened, she was running through a cognitive test.  Despite his confusion, he answered her questions as best he could, and she didn't seem disappointed, so he must have gotten a good grade.  Was that something you could get on a cognitive test?

“What is the last thing you remember before waking up here?” she asked, finally.  

“Uh, um,” said Izuku.  “I used one of the gyms at the school… here, I mean… for physical therapy stuff.  Then sat in on one of the support classes - that was really cool - then, um, the train… and I was walking home…  Was I hit by a car?” he guessed.  

Recovery Girl sighed.  “You were attacked by villains and injected with trigger.  Trigger heavily cut with other drugs, no less.”

“What?!” said Izuku trying to sit up.  Recovery Girl pushed him back down.  

“The villains were all captured.  They won't be doing anything like that again.”  She set a bowl of broth down on the table attached to Izuku's bed.  

“But did I– What did I–?”  Even if he didn't remember anything, trigger made people do all sorts of weird stuff.  And One for All wasn't an ordinary quirk.

“Don’t worry about that,” said Recovery Girl.  “You focus on recovering your stamina, so we can do something about all those microfractures you have.”

“I thought– I thought you said you wouldn't treat me anymore,” said Izuku, bewildered.  

“I never–” Recovery Girl stopped, pressed her lips together.  “What I meant to say, at the end of the sports festival, is that I won't be able to heal you with my quirk if you keep getting injuries like that.  There's a limit to what can be healed, even with quirks, as you well know.”

Izuku thought back to All Might's wound, and shuddered.  Which.  Ow.  

“If you can keep that down,” said Recovery Girl, nodding to the broth, “I'll see about letting some of your visitors in.”

“Like Mom?  And, um, All Might?” guessed Izuku.

“Your mother is here already,” said Recovery Girl, nodding at the green-haired lump in the neighboring bed.  “Just got her to take a nap herself, after she spent all night fretting.  But, yes, All Might isn’t above using his position to get to the top of your visitor list.  Although he isn't the only one on it.  All your classmates called in from their internships, and I had to ban that girl from the support course.  I won’t have untested support equipment around my patients, no matter what the medical applications are.  Uraraka and Jiro from your class were also here earlier…”

Izuku listened as she bustled around the medical wing and continued to chatter about his visitors and well-wishers, and felt… warm.  Later, he was sure there would be consequences beyond missing memories, sore muscles, and broken bones, but for now… it was nice to know he had people who cared.  He didn't think he'd ever get tired of that. 

With a shaky hand, he picked up the soup spoon and started on the broth. 

.

“Mr. Hidaka,” said the lawyer, more to Hideo's father than Hideo, even if the lawyer was technically representing Hideo, “I'm afraid to say that the government's case is ironclad.  Between the livestream video, the messages to the other defendants, being found at the scene of the crime, the evidence of quirk use…  The best we can hope for is the young villain diversion program, but that's only possible if you plead guilty and implicate any other co-conspirators.  Otherwise, you're old enough to be charged as an adult, and even if they don't do that, juvenile villain facilities aren't great places to be.”

“But Deku–” started Hideo.  

“Hideo,” growled his father.  

“I was attacked–”

“Hideo, shut up.  You'll take the guilty plea and hope you get it in before any of rhe cretins you call friends.  And if you say anything about this Midoriya boy again…”

Hideo swallowed and nodded.  Goddamned Deku.  How come he got everything good, and Hideo was in here?  It wasn't fair.  It wasn't fair.  Goddamned Deku.  

But what was he supposed to do?  He wasn't an actual villain.  He just wanted things to be right. 

“Fine,” he said.  “I'll do it.”

“Great!” said the lawyer, gathering his papers.  “I just have to talk to the prosecuter.”

Goddamn Deku.  Why couldn't Hideo have his life?

[ghoulfuckersincorporated]

Had a terribly great thought! The Ghoul and reader traveling together. She's a brat but loyal as a dog to that man. They get into a pretty bad fight and she storms off and he's too proud to follow after her, struggling with coming to terms that he's actually soft for her even though he's mean as hell. She finds him some days later, with her tail tucked between her legs. He's not surprised, comparing her to a female dog often. 👀 still, he's going to make sure she's sorry. Lots of groveling on her part, maybe some face slapping, boot licking, he gets off, she doesn't. Ends with her in his lap. Hair petting and praise for coming back to who she belongs to.

As A Dog

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,085

Warnings: smut (18+), DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT, Jealous!Cooper, canon-typical violence, intimacy issues, angst, insecurity, slightly fucked conceptions of love and loyalty, pet play-ish activity, hard drug use, forced intoxication, shotgunning, slapping, boot licking, oral sex (male receiving), face fucking, rough sex, riding, cannibalistic thoughts, orgasm denial (female), breeding kink, creampie.

Notes: I had several pieces in line in front of this one and then this prompt reached through my screen, sunk its teeth into my brain, and shook me until this came out. It really is a terribly great thought. Tagging heavy, since the themes/Cooper's mentality may be triggering for some. It is what it says on the can, folks.

I dunno what unholy demon you've unleashed on me here, Anon. But bless you for it. Another Coop POV because I have a problem. Thanks for the patience on this one; I've been doing some admin stuff the last few days, including setting up an AO3 that you can find here, where I'll be uploading all the long-form stuff. Enjoy!

Cooper's trigger finger was itchier today than it had been for a long time.

He was fully aware that he'd never be able to stop every man left in the world from talking to his little vaultie companion, but boy, he sure would love to try. On an average day, he struggled to hold his tongue as she drove away her own sun-baked suitors, standing silently aside until called up to defend her, no matter how badly he wanted to reduce whomever was bothering her to nothing.

Today was a worse-than-average day, and the girl wasn't helping anything, herself.

"Are you gonna be ready to go any time soon, princess?" he asked her acerbically as she passed by him for the millionth time, tossing his current cigarette down to the ground.

He'd intended to stop at this shitty little settlement, little more than a dingy bighorner ranch at first glance, for a few minutes at most, just long enough to unload some things and check to see if they had any vials on hand. Here it was, nearly four hours of glad-handing and chit-chatting and unnecessary gun repairs later, and he was still leaning against the same crumbing wall, still angrily smoking. She was pushing it.

"Oh, be patient." she shot back, rolling her eyes as she turned to saunter back to the little ramshackle counter. "I'm waiting for my gun back and I was having a nice chat with the mechanic. Try to be pleasant for five minutes, would you?"

She was so full of shit, he thought as he snuffed the still-glowing smoke butt out beneath the toe of his boot with just a little more force than necessary. Typically, she shied away from male attention at her most demure, refusing to acknowledge most advances, playing innocent, playing dumb. The big doe eyes and soft voice didn't hurt on that front, but usually didn't deter the more steadfast predators.

He preferred the days where she had a little extra spitfire, when she told them clearly and loudly to fuck off, no doubt emboldened by having the rather intimidating ghoul hanging over her shoulder, silently encouraging her as she did it. In the past, she had proven that she wasn't above evoking his capacity for violence as a threat when the desert trash was persistent, and it gave him a thrill he couldn't identify, one that ruminated deep in his gut.

That same gut feeling was burning him now, eating a hole in his patience as he watched her listening attentively to the third scrawny young man who'd approached her as she waited around the repair hutch to yap her ear off. She nodded and smiled politely, even laughed from time to time (the sound of which made him want to shoot he kid between the eyes just for that), but kept a respectful distance. Clearly, she'd finally learned that the sort of over-friendliness that she'd been raised with in the vaults could be read differently up here. The young buck, however, continued to try and dance into her space as he spoke animatedly, and, eventually, she reached out and quickly touched his chest.

The old cowboy was stomping across the sand to her before he was even aware he was moving.

His logical brain could see very clearly what had happened: the boy had advanced into her space for the half-dozenth time and she'd put her palm out to gently rebuke him, distracting him from the rejection with a laugh at whatever he'd said. But that part of his brain was rather quiet after a long afternoon of watching her rather blatantly flirt with the asshole she was having repair her plasma pistol (something that she would typically have him do, since it wouldn't cost her anything, and he almost certainly could do with equal or superior adequacy), and letting every other little piss-ant farmhand in the next mile radius chat her up.

"We're hitting the road in five. Get your shit and let's go." he hissed to her, ignoring the little scowl she shot him as he interrupted her newest conversation with the willowy, greasy mechanic, who was sliding her her pistol back across the knotted wood of the semi-exposed countertop. Flashing him that brilliant smile, the one that he wanted to be only for him, she checked the thing over before tucking it back into the holster she kept on her hip, pushing a stash of caps in a metal tin back his way. The old cowboy watched with inflamed indignation as the fucker opened the box, dug out a massive handful, and tucked them back into her hands, letting his own linger across her skin as he placed them back into her palms.

Frankly, he was impressed he was able to let her drop the things back into her bag before he grabbed her by the arm, none too gently, and wordlessly began to yank her back down the road, back in the direction they'd originally been heading in. He could've shoved the damn things in himself and just dragged her along; it wasn't like he was unfamiliar with where she put them. The long, sleepless nights could be boring, and early on, he'd been curious enough about her to nose through her things once or thrice. That, like this, had been quite illuminating.

"Oh, you're being such a prick today!" she yelled, yanking at his grip in an attempt to free herself. He humored her, dropping her arm and turning to face her, unpleasantly surprised as the last farmhand she'd been chatting with, the one she'd touched, came running up.

"Hey, leave her alone!" he yelled. Or, he would have, if he'd had a chance to finish.

The sound of Cooper's rifle butt cracking into the kid's face was incredibly satisfying, collapsing him into a limp, useless pile on the ground, deep crimson pooling around where he lie face-down in the dirt. The girl didn't scream, probably surprised that he hadn't outright shot him, but her hands did fly to her mouth in a quick moment of silent shock before she kneeled to quickly check his pulse, rolling his ugly mug to face the sun. Blood poured from his obviously broken nose, leaving the old ghoul wiping at his face to cover the smirk it sent twitching across his lips.

"What did you do that for?!" she demanded, frustration clear in her voice.

"Oh, my apologies, sweetheart. Your little boyfriend there was trying to join a party he wasn't invited to." he replied, though she was clearly ignoring him in favor of turning the boy onto his side and examining him.

His little companion let out a huff, casting a look between the body on the ground and the little cluster of buildings they'd just left. After a moment, she grabbed him by the fabric of his shirt the best she could and began to drag him back towards where he'd come from. The ghoul watched her pull him about five feet, red and huffing by the time she made it there, rolling his eyes deeply.

"Leave him. He'll be fine."

"He won't be if no one comes over to collect him soon, and you know it." she snarled, and her tone sent him seething, snatching the kid up over his shoulder like a sack of spuds and stomping ahead of her, depositing him unceremoniously against the ranch's handmade sign before yanking her along with him once again.

"Y'know, if you'd have just gotten in and out like I told you, that wouldn't have happened." he said eventually, dropping her arm once more.

"Oh, fuck you!" she hissed. "I was trying to see if I could talk him down on the price. And sometimes people know useful things, you know!" she yelled, exasperation clear in her tone as she threw her arms up in the air.

She pretended to be ignorant, but clearly knew what he was upset about before he specified. Interesting.

"Oh, I'm sure. Y'know, I'd wondered how long it was gonna take you to start sellin' that little ass of yours. Figured it would be for something nicer than a pistol repair or some bad intel, at least." he sneered. He could feel himself slipping further from rationality.

"What are you talking about? It wasn't even like that!" she insisted, an edge of something more worrisome creeping into her voice.

"Quit playin' dumb, doll. You make it seem too easy." he said, watching her entire face light up bright red in frustration. She was tersely quiet for a minute, the gears in her head clearly turning hard and fast as she worked to contain herself and formulate a response at the same time.

"I'm sick of you getting pissed off and treating me like I'm the stupidest person you've ever met." she spat, eventually, madder than he'd ever seen her. "I'm sorry that I haven't spent enough bitter fucking years walking around the desert and killing things and being an asshole to know everything like you do, Coop. I'm sorry I still have human emotions and desires. My sincerest fucking apologies."

That was it: the argument had officially become about...something else.

Honestly, he'd assumed that she was going to leave him a few days back, when they'd stayed in a rare hotel room waiting for a bad dust storm to settle, the little thing getting just a tad too tipsy on some whiskey he'd given her before trying to kiss him. He'd rebuffed her, though not as gently as he wished he had, and, feeling bold, she'd pushed back with surprising fervor, basically demanding to know why he wouldn't kiss her more, why he wouldn't sleep with her.

True, he felt closer to her than he'd felt to anyone or anything in a long while, and he thought she was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, but, as embarrassing as it was, the idea of being expected to perform sexually so suddenly made him feel a seizing sense of panic that he wasn't sure he'd ever felt before.

What he'd wanted to say was "I care about you so much, but I'm not sure I'm ready to take that step." Instead, what had come out was "Why are you buggin' me about this? I said no. Fuck off." followed by him storming out to spend several hours smoking in the decrepit, junk-walled-in parking lot.

When he'd returned, she'd been asleep, her poor face tear-swollen and red. He'd waited for her to rouse and hash it out with him, but she'd slept through the night, and, the next morning, didn't bring it up or seem amenable to discussing it. She hadn't seemed angry, necessarily, perhaps a little sad, but in the few days that had passed since, she had definitely been colder, poutier than usual.

It seemed, to him, that she was punishing him now for not doing what she'd wanted, and it was pissing him off.

It didn't matter that he hadn't fucked her yet, that he didn't feel ready to expose the most vulnerable parts of him, inside and out, so openly. She was his; she belonged to him and she knew it as much as he did. The fact that she was even still traveling with him after all this time, after what happened at the hotel that night, was proof. She proved it every single time she came back from one of her little stomp-offs every time he ticked her off, lacking the wherewithal to ever even move fully out of sight before slinking down to pout awhile, inevitably peeking out from whatever she was hiding behind to see if he was still there. Despite her lack of proper training, she was a loyal little bitch.

The fact that she suddenly didn't want to act accordingly sat entirely wrong in his mind, wriggled under his skin like when his stash ran low.

"All's I'm saying, princess," he growled, throwing out the nickname he knew she loathed once more, "is that you're too fucking friendly for your own good, and you shouldn't be shocked when it gets people hurt."

"Why would you give a shit who I'm friendly to, anyway?" she spat, suddenly pushing her way right into his bubble and sending him baring his teeth.

"I wouldn't. Didn't I made that clear enough the other night?"

He knew that this particular barb would hurt her, but he genuinely didn't expect what she did next.

"Alright, then." she said; her voice was trembling noticeably, as was her lower lip. With that, she snatched her backpack up from the ground, jammed her arms into the straps, turned, and began to walk back towards the way they'd come from. He watched her silently, waiting for her to duck back into the ranch, but she didn't; instead, she kept walking, as long as he could watch her, until she disappeared over the hill that fed into the horizon.

The old man watched her go, dumbfounded as she actually continued to walk instead of stopping as she always did. For a while, he hung around, waiting for her to come huffing back, but she still hadn't by the time the sun had fully sunk out of the sky. Eventually, he resumed moving himself, stopping after about a mile in their original planned direction, settling down for a grating night of looking out over the road at every little noise.

She'd never even looked back. He couldn't shake that thought from his mind as he sat there resting overnight. It was basically the only thought he had for hours, plaguing him as he puffed his inhaler and watched the world around him brighten with the rising sun.

When the next day started in full, he'd resolved to hit the road, to resume his travels as he would be resuming his existence before the girl had come along. Compared to how long he'd been exploring the desert solo, she'd been but a brief blip in his life, and there was no reason to fret so much over where she'd gone or what could happen to her without him around.

For some reason, he only covered about half the ground he would typically cover on a day like this, and he found himself beyond unreasonably frustrated...with himself. Nothing about the conditions was slowing him down; he didn't run into more trouble than usual, and he was fine on supplies, vials, but for some reason he found himself hypervigilant, looking for any excuse to move up high and scan the road with his binoculars.

By the time it was too dark to safely continue, he was seething once again, but at his weakness, at his cowardice. After he chose a tucked away little corner to settle down in for a few hours, he quite literally couldn't dig into his stash fast enough, doing line after line, hit after hit of whatever he had on him, until the horrible pain he felt behind his breastbone melted away into a familiar, soothing numbness.

But his numb mind liked to wander, and soon he found himself thinking about the softness of her voice, her skin, her lips against his that night...

And, quickly, he was back to pain and anger, but an irrational anger fueled by a far-more than reasonable dose of basically every kind of stimulant known to Wasteland man. This pain, too, was chased away with more and more chems, until he was so fucked up that he could barely keep his eyes focused and open.

She truly did plague him now, just as she had all the months she'd traveled with him. She plagued his thoughts at all points in the day, plagued his worries about the future, and even as he attempted to snort and huff himself free of the thought of her, she plagued him, dancing up along beside him in a quiet, stalking creep, watching him daintily from the end of the rotted log he sagged himself on, his back wedged against the large rock cluster behind him. At some point, he'd tugged his gloves off and shucked them somewhere nearby, leaving him feeling quite naked as his hands fretted with themselves absentmindedly. Against his will, he thought about running them through her hair like he'd wanted to for so long, and the unpleasant flip his stomach did made him sigh.

"I'm sorry." came a voice on the breeze, so much like hers. The visions of her were persistent, annoyingly so, the one staring hauntingly at him from the side really starting to unsettle him. He was no stranger to visual and auditory hallucinations when he was this far gone, but she was so solid-looking out of the corner of his eye, watching him so close. Judging him and what a fuck-up he was.

He squeezed his eyes shut hard, willing her away, willing himself to go back a few days and redo this entire thing differently.

"Aren't you...gonna say anything?" came the soft, timid voice once more, this time from beside him. Firmer, realer.

He narrowed his eyes in her ghostly direction, focusing as best as he could on her blurry, swimming visage.

"Huh. Didn't know that was really you."

When had she arrived, exactly? Fuck, he was dangerously gone if she'd been able to sneak up on him like that.

She frowned at that, leaning close and sizing him up with worrying eyes. Gingerly, she placed her palm on the back of his bare hand.

"Jeez, Cooper. How fucked up are you?" she asked, her tone sincere, almost apologetic.

Her glaring worry burned into him as judgment, harsh and stinging, and he struck out in response, yanking his hand away.

"Mind your fuckin' business." he slurred, forcing himself to sit up straight enough to point his full anger in her direction, growing with each passing moment. "Think you're better'n me? Hmm?"

He'd fully expected this to ignite another yelling match between the two of them, but she didn't scream back; instead, she quietly dropped her head, avoiding his eyes as she gazed around where he'd chosen to bed down. Truly, he was quite impressed she'd managed to find him at all, let alone in the dark. Turns out he was rubbing off on her even more than he'd thought. The idea left him bitter.

A big part of the anger he felt, the ugliest, most violent part, was the Jet; he knew this. The stuff had gotten him into more than his share of scuffles through the years, making him even meaner than usual, his sharp tongue exact and piercing. However, beneath the amphetamine fog, there was a nugget of true bitterness, an open wound of insecurity that pained him into lashing out when she tried to come close. He'd lashed out in such a way that night at the hotel, despite how hard he'd tried to hold back his sour words.

There was a fear there that he'd felt before, but never so strongly as when he'd watched her disappear over that hill. If she'd tried to leave over that relatively small argument, when would she try to leave again? He wasn't a pleasant man to be around, even when he actually tried to be, a lot of the time. Hell, he wasn't even pleasant to look at; if he'd been a giant prick in his old life, at the very least, he had been handsome.

Increasingly, since she'd come into his life, he tried to reach deep, deep into himself and pull out whatever remained of the old him, the one who was kind and hopeful and actually knew how to talk to women, but the process was infinitely more difficult and painful than he'd imagined.

She clearly wanted and needed intimacy from him, on more than one front, and the pressure of feeling like he couldn't give her what she needed was increasingly getting to him in a way that embarrassed him more than he could possibly say (not that he'd ever say it out loud). Centuries of time had passed, and yet, here he was, still dealing with the same anxieties and feelings of inadequacy that he had before, just dressed up in a new, uglier face.

When would he finally succeed in pushing her away, in frightening her away from him 'for her own good'? The walls around him had never failed him before, for better or worse.

Things were quiet between them as she fidgeted in her spot, the tension of an inescapable conversation in the air, but the desert's constant score, the hiss of sand across corroded asphalt, the soft rattle of the wind in the rocky hills, played on. His muddled ears played tricks on him, making him hear murmurs and distant gunshots and the crack of his rifle butt into that farmhand's face, but he tuned them out, focusing on her steadying, but increasingly heavy breathing, his eyes unable to leave her mouth..

He let himself drink in the fact that she really was there, sat on her knees in the dirt before him and already begging him for his forgiveness, for his acceptance; corporeal, flesh and blood and her sweet smell and that wet, warm place between her legs. Only in his drug-induced private fantasies had he felt it, but he knew he wanted to bury himself there, as deep as possible, and never let her pull away.

"I really am sorry, Coop." she whispered, those big, round eyes brimming with big, wet tears. It wasn't difficult to see her sincerity, even as he struggled to focus. But that hot coal of bitter anger still smoldered in his gut; not replaced by the lust he felt, but fed by it.

Slowly, his own movements labored under the weight of too many substances, he reached out and ran the thumb of his sullied glove along her smooth, smooth cheek. Smearing the trail of wetness there until he was tracing the outline of those pouty lips, he pushed it into her mouth.

"Prove it."

She let out a pitiful little retch, though whether it was from the taste of the incredibly filthy material, or because he was shoving her tongue back in her throat and gagging her with it, he didn't know. What he did know was that the sound made his cock twitch, which was already more blatant sexual desire than he'd felt in ages.

"How?" she asked, wiping at her mouth with the back of her hand as he pulled his own away. The wetness that trailed from his thumb, from her lips, made him feel feverish, and he quickly knotted his hand into the thick, soft hair at the back of her head, yanking her so close that their noses would've been touching, had he still had one. When her wide eyes met his, not so much as a sound escaping her lips at the sensation in her scalp, he finally gave in and harshly mashed his mouth to hers, swallowing the sigh that escaped her as he did.

Cooper was unsure how long they kissed, how long he plundered her swollen, eager mouth with his tongue before she stumbled onto her knees, pulling back slightly to pull air into her lungs. As she hovered there, eyes closed as she attempted to gather herself, he dug deep into the pocket of his duster and withdrew a Jet container, giving it a shake to prime it as she righted her breathing. Once she was steady once more, he cupped the back of her head again, bringing her to him and lifting it to her mouth. There was hesitation in her eyes, then disgust as the chem filled her lungs. It touched him with a twinge of amusement, knowing how badly the stuff tasted, watching her retch harder than before. He let her cough for a few seconds, allowing her a few half-cocked breaths of air before shoving the thing back between her lips and holding it down even longer.

By the time she managed to stop sputtering and drooling, he'd had a hit of his inhaler and started stroking his increasingly hard cock through his pants, watching her closely as she raised her now bleary, glassy eyes towards him. He waited for her to mouth off, to complain, to remark on anything that had happened, but instead, she sat there, unmoving, waiting for his instructions. She was the picture of obedience, but nevertheless, he could still see that glint of outrage behind her gaze, waiting to argue with him the moment she sensed an opportunity.

It pissed him off more than he thought possible, and, before he could even think to stop himself, he lashed out and slapped her across the face, the blow landing squarely in the center of her cheek and making her head turn away from him slightly. Surprising him again, she didn't make a sound, but she also didn't correct her head to look back at him.

Pulling a long drag off of the Jet inhaler himself, he held it deep in his lungs as he grabbed her by her long hair to kiss her again, exhaling the stuff right down into her lungs. She kissed him back until she choked on the sensation, leaning away to spew and cough more.

"Wanna prove you're sorry?" he hissed, his brain buzzing with the fresh hit as she leaned against his knee. "Clean my boots, vaultie. Show a little humility for once in your life."

His words were mean, meaner than he should be right now, but she didn't seem to register their full weight as she struggled to focus her eyes on the boots in question. When she lifted those dark, glassy pools back to his, he could see she knew what he meant, a heavy blush staining her cheeks and neck. Of course she knew what he meant; she was a smart girl, and her brain worked so much like his, even if she wouldn't freely admit it.

She looked up at him so dreamily through those thick lashes, though whether it was real affection in her eyes or simply the haze from all the Jet he'd forced down into her lungs, he couldn't tell.

In truth, his boots weren't as filthy as they could've been, as he'd cleaned the farmhand's blood off of them the night she'd taken off to get rid of the smell. But it wasn't about cleanliness; no, she'd humiliated him, her and her spoiled, entitled vault-dweller attitude, when she ran off, and he wanted to see her humiliate herself a little in kind.

The woman kneeling before him didn't hesitate as much as he'd thought she would, the red outline of his palm and fingers seeming to glow on her cheek in the dying firelight as she cast a vaguely-seeing glance around her, measuring her space before pulling herself into a sort of downward dog position, her round ass in the air as her marred cheek rested softly on the sandy ground. There was a moment of quiet tension as she seemed to study it, planning her approach before rather timidly leaning forward and running her tongue along the side, swiping a clean stripe across the tarnished black material from ball to toe. She gagged at first, likely from the dryness of the dust, but, again, she didn't complain.

He didn't have to tell her to clean the other boot; she did it with no prompting as soon as the first was finished, gagging less as she ran her pretty pink tongue all along the sullied, scuffed leather, and he couldn't believe how much it turned him on while equally failing to quell his indignation, his disappointment. Before she'd really finished her work, he yanked her up by her hair again; this time, she let out a slight yelp of surprise as he dropped her onto her ass, gesturing to her shabby, scavenged armor with one hand as the other began to wrestle his ammo belt, then his actual belt, open.

"Take that shit off."

Again, she did as he asked with only a moment's pause, placing all the little pieces of boiled leather and metal off to the side, her eyes flitting to him for a heartbeat before she proceeded with the rest of her clothes, quickly exposing herself completely. He could see her well in the moonlight, but not as well as he'd have liked, leaving her standing there, vulnerable and shivering ever-so-slightly as he took a good, long look at her. He was painfully hard at this point, desperate to have at least some minor relief from the confines of his trousers, but he was also uncharacteristically nervous at the idea of exposing himself to her this way. Beckoning her forward, he used her distraction as she kneeled once more to pull his cock free, grateful for the darkness and her weaker eyes.

"Suck me." he growled.

While he wasn't exactly pleased at how entirely fucked up he'd been going into this, he was sort of grateful that he couldn't feel almost anything with any vivid detail across the expanse of his body; the visual of her wrapping her dainty little fingers around him and obediently leaning down to take him into her mouth alone would have been enough to finish him if he'd have been able to feel her properly.

The way she went about it also seemed to indicate she wasn't entirely experienced, simply sliding her mouth down over his cock and setting to finding a pace that she could handle, as everything was surely spinning for her. For a while, he let her do so, fingers knotting into her hair again, before his patience wore thin and he began to push her head downwards, the sound of her gagging once more sending a thrill up his spine. Even with the numbness from the most recent hit seeping through him, he wasn't able to keep it up long before he yanked her back, taking in the drool hanging down from her swollen lips.

Cooper gave his spit-slicked cock a few firm tugs, hissing from between his worn teeth at her as he sat back, making room for her on his lap.

"Now get up here and show me you know who you belong to."

She didn't even look towards her bag, towards the condoms he knew she kept tucked deep inside her little toiletry pocket, as she quickly and sloppily pulled herself up into his lap. A part of him knew that he'd have stopped her if she did try to put one on him.

He tried so hard to not think of Barb as the pretty young thing on top of him began to sink down and envelop his cock in her heat, tried so hard to not feel guilty for giving himself to another, and he failed miserably. She felt heavenly, tighter and warmer and sweeter than he could've ever imagined, and he hated himself for how much he loved it, for how alive it made him feel when for so long he'd simply been existing. The choked noise that left his dry throat as the aching head of him fully breached her wasn't a sob, but he wouldn't have known what to call it.

It must've seemed to her, he thought, that he was forcing her to do all the work out of anger, wanting her to fully prove that she wanted him, that she was his; this was true, but he was also terrified, deep down, of how he would react if he allowed himself to freely touch her the way he wanted. He feared he would literally rip her limb from limb in his intoxicated state, sink his teeth into her pillowy flesh until it bled, tear a chunk off of her and swallow it so that she could be part of him forever.

He couldn't tell if the way she huffed and whimpered her way down his length was because she was high and hypersensitive or because she'd never been with a man this way before. That thought was quickly and harshly banished from his brain, however, his hands finding the plush fat of her hips, fingertips digging hard into the soft, supple flesh.

"Good pup." he breathed out when he eventually felt her ass rest on his thighs, fully sheathing him inside her.

The whimper she let out in response, her tight little clasp quivering around him as she clumsily reached out and braced her hands on his shoulders, made him throb hard, leaving him at least slightly grateful for his intoxication once again. If his numbed brain and body had been able to feel her fully, he knew he would've absolutely shot his load already.

Cooper struggled to stay still as she moved experimentally on top of him, lifting and lowering and grinding herself a few different ways before she found a rhythm that made him let out a throaty moan, the ghost of a smile flashing across her sleepy face as she rode away at him for a while.

What he really wanted, deep beneath all the unwanted feelings and unanswered questions about things he didn't want to think about right now, was to knock her up. For so long now he'd thought of her as his, and now that he'd claimed her, he wanted nothing more than to see her round and full to the brim of him. He wanted her to need him, to be completely dependent on him to provide for her and keep her safe.

He wanted her too vulnerable to get away from him.

On top of him, her movements were rapidly losing all coordination as her glossy, heavy eyelids drifted shut, her head nodding violently as she struggled to maintain her pace. He'd given her too much for someone who didn't use regularly, someone her size, and she was crashing out, falling asleep against her will right there. Poor thing.

He slapped her again, the sound ringing out across the vast, empty desert, watching closely as she startled back into a fully upright posture, her hips stilling for a moment before slowly beginning to churn again, her gaze unfocused.

"Mmm." she murmured groggily, leaning forward and placing her forehead against his shoulder, her arms winding around his neck as she tried her best to keep in some sort of motion.

This gesture, the way she cuddled up to him and sought comfort, support from him, even after the way he'd treated her, the fact that he'd literally just slapped her awake, was the only thing she'd done thus far that truly quelled the ugly, raging anger inside him.

"Thought this stuff was s'posed to wake you up." she sighed into the crook of his neck. She was entering the peak of her high, her body pitifully liquid against his chest as she clearly struggled to stay upright.

Personally, Cooper was reaching the un-fun part of his comedown, where everything started to feel grating and the mind began to uncloud, providing an increasingly painful level of clarity, but the senses remained muddled in a way that provided more discomfort than relief.

"Usually does. You had too much, baby." he responded, the mild chastisement in his tone doing a poor job of hiding the guilt behind it. His naked hands stroked reverently at her back, at the long, wind-swept hair that flowed down it, mindful to hold her so that she wouldn't lilt too far to one side as he attempted to soothe her.

Familiar with the unpleasant swimming sensation too much Jet could give you, he let her relax fully against him, the small sigh she let out one of gratitude as her whole body sagged even further. But she didn't stop grinding against him, probably out of some sort of pleasure for herself, he figured as he could feel her greedy insides tugging around him. He hid his grin again, this time in the crook of her neck as his hands found her hips once more, easily lifting her a few inches before dropping her down again, bouncing her on his cock as she rested.

Things went on like that for a spell, him bobbing and rocking her naked, lax body on top of his as she curled up on his shoulder, cooing and nodding off from time to time. As his high wore off, the sensitivity in his body was returning, and it made her feel more and more overwhelming as he continued to fuck her, her hot, wet little cunt leaking all over him as he continued to use her body to get himself off.

She seemed to be more conscious now than before, though barely, jostled awake by the increasing force of his thrusts up into her, bare breasts heaving with the movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to trace his lips down her chest, sealing them around her puffy, erect nipple and swiping his tongue along her slightly salty flesh. In response, her arms tightened around his neck, holding him on her breast as she clenched around him hard.

"Cooper." she whimpered, and that single little sound pushed him right into what felt like the most powerful orgasm he'd ever had, his fingers digging into her hips far too hard as he dropped her full weight onto him, grinding her down onto his cock and yanking her against him. His head dropped back, dead weight as he let out a feral snarl, tapering off into a throaty moan.

As he throbbed his gift up inside her, she squirmed at the feeling, tucking her bright red face into the side of his neck in what read as slight embarrassment, giving little huffs and whimpers as he continued to fill her. Another, smaller wave of guilt nagged at him as she clung to him, as he held her as close as he possibly could, struggling to regain control of his breathing; even if she'd had sex before, she'd never done this.

He held her as long as she could tolerate, her grip around him loosening slowly as she moved closer to real sleep. His girl was exhausted through and through, lightly snoozing against his chest.

For a few minutes, he let her rest uninterrupted, scanning her over to assess how badly he'd fucked up. She seemed fairly intact, though certainly more bruised than before. Eventually, he went digging into her bag, knowing (hoping) that she would have Radaway somewhere, and letting out a small sigh of relief when he found some jammed into the bottom.

Only one dose; he would have to find her more, and soon. This would be enough to see her through the next day, though, and he was pleasantly surprised to note that she wasn't showing even minor signs of radiation sickness as he found a vein in her arm, starting up the intravenous line to administer the thick, yellowed solution. Surprisingly, she didn't rouse fully when he slid the included needle into place, but she did begin to stir and groan mildly as the stuff began to effuse. Dimly, he remembered being given it when he'd been in the service, and how shitty it could make you feel.

Softly, he stroked her cheek with the backs of his bare knuckles before setting to jabbing her with a Stimpak from his bag around where she'd stuck some staples in her belly, making a note to ask her what had given her the several inches-long laceration he saw there.

He hesitated, though, when he moved to give her a dose of Med-X he'd dug out from the depths of his saddlebag. Most of the Wasteland's mind-rotting and pain-soothing substances were on the table for him, and in great amounts, but he hated the way the opiate made him sluggish and sleepy, reducing his accuracy in a fight significantly. The pain relief it provided wasn't worth it if he ended up dead anyway.

Smoothskins loved it, though, so he usually kept a few syringes on him for bartering purposes. Never did he think he'd be happy to give so much of his stash away for free.

He knew she must be hurting, or, she would be when she woke up, whenever that was. But he was hesitant to give her anything else, both for fear of how she would react, and, somewhat selfishly, because he knew a proper dose would make her sleep even longer, and he was desperate to actually get to speak with her again.

If she asked for the stuff, he'd give it to her. But...tomorrow. After they'd gotten a chance to discuss everything that had happened with cooler, more sober heads. After he was sure she wouldn't wake up in the morning and hate him for what he'd done to her.

His fingers played softly in her mussed hair as the indigo cover of night faded into the periwinkle of twilight, washing her nearly grey in his arms. She slept hard awhile, undisturbed until the awkward angle of her neck made him gently resettle her into a more comfortable-seeming position, letting her slip down until she was curled up in a ball on her side in his lap, her head supported in the crook of his elbow. Lying this way, he'd have to hold her up while she slept, but he found himself strangely excited at the prospect.

"M'sorry I ran away." she murmured suddenly after a long period of silence, readjusting herself in his lap to curl closer.

"I know, kid. I forgive you." he replied after a moment of hesitation, the words soft and strange as they formed on his lips. He petted her hair as gently as he could manage. "Did a good job findin' your way back to me, pup. Proud of you."

"Mmm. Please don't be mad at me." she echoed his own thoughts softly, so slurred as she finally began into unconsciousness that it was barely intelligible, her face buried in his side.

"I'm not." he said, fully, completely honest for once in his long life. He let his eyelids rest, his hand on his gun, ready to stop anyone who would try to ruin this quiet moment under the fading stars. "I promise. Now, get some sleep, pup. I know you came a long way today."

She sighed at that, as if to say "You have no idea." before flopping loosely into his arms, and was snoring lightly within a minute. He allowed himself a small smile at this, at how earnest and adorable she was.

"Good girl." he murmured.

[suntoru]

NOT Y/N. (NEVER WAS)

summary: second lead pains </3 modern au where you’re in love with him, but scara doesn’t reciprocate ur feelings

feat. scaramouche

a/n: genshin version of ‘i wanted it to be you’ basically gryytgghhvrthhguuggyh iykyk, no disrespect to queen lumine tho 

warnings: swearing, self depreciating thoughts, no comfort, basically a vent, angst

it was stupid, you knew that from the start. having a crush on scaramouche, of all people? but dumb little you didn’t care. you took all the moments where he wasn’t blatantly rude to you, where he let you in for a spilt second, where he showed you a sliver his heart and chalked it up to him maybe, just maybe him liking you back. and just when you thought you were making progress. you chuckle bitterly.

but then comes lumine. all it takes is something as simple as a smile in his direction for him to turn away with a slight blush, something so out of character only she could bring. you couldn’t even do that in the years you’ve spent with him. but you really can’t find it in yourself to hate her. she’s gorgeous, smart, talented, confident… everything you’re not. and it hurts, it really does, to see him fall in love so quickly when it took you ages to even be his friend.

you were just delusional. you’re not the main character who gets a fairytale ending, you’re just the side character who’s just there to get rejected. and maybe it stings, but it’s the truth. you close your eyes, tears pooling out the corners as you sink into your bed.

peeking out, you spot the bandaid box scaramouche gave you sitting on your desk. it has its own mini-shrine, decorated and highly protected. you still remember that day clearly. you tripped and scraped your knee on the ground because he pushed you, and you were on the floor teary-eyed, clutching your leg. he stomped off somewhere, you thought he just left you, but five minutes later, he came back with a box of bandaids, chucking them at your head. you kept it this entire time, thinking it was a sign that he possibly liked you more than friends.

your fingers lightly trace over the box. it hasn’t been damaged in the slightest, and it’s still full to the brim. you linger around for a moment before picking it up, observing it closely before giving it a small glare, and throwing it in the trash.

you stifle your sobs. you hate it. you hate it when he knows you’re sad just by looking at you, you hate how he sends you a ‘goodnight idiot’ when you fall asleep talking to him, you hate how he always treats you a little more differently than the rest of his friends. you wish he would just forget you existed.

but what hurts the most is that all the moments you thought were special, the moments that kept you up at night, the moments that made you want to kick your feet and squeal with happiness meant nothing to him. there was no chemistry, you were just so desperate to have something to cling onto. and you can’t help but think, ‘if i was a little bit more entertaining, if i was a little bit more pretty, if i was a little bit more like her… would things be different?’

you look up wistfully. but time and time again, you are never enough, you will never measure up to her. you can’t help but imagine what things would be like if you were y/n.

maybe he’d look at you with those soft eyes he always gives her. maybe he’d get a little flustered when you wave at him from afar. maybe, just maybe, if you weren’t the second main lead, he’d love you back.

©kaeffeinee 2023. do not copy, repost, or translate any of my works on any platform.

[star-bursts-industries]

Brian currently consumed by SMAU thoughts. There’s so much potential.

Andrew and Neil are NEVER online. They have accounts because they have too, but there’s only like….5 photos on their pages combined. And it’s like press photos. They post like Harry Styles ok. Once in a blue moon and you have no idea if it’s them or the press team (it’s definitely the press team).

Allison is purposely chaotic, the ultimate f you to her family. She stirs shit up just because she can.

Dan and Renee are properly trained little media girlies. Pretty photos and pretty tame, Dan sometimes gets out of hand if provoked but it’s never anything to crazy.

Seth is banned from having access to his accounts like once a month for posting offensive shit simply because he doesn’t know how NOT to be an asshole.

Matt is a FUCKING comedian. He also professionally shit posts. Movie critics, exy stats and ultimate professional trash talk.

Kevin is basically a professional exy account, the only thing on his account is exy and he’s like the least controversial because all he does is talk about exy. Sometimes he gets a little harsh with his criticism.

Nicky is one of those accounts everyone sees but no one really follows you know? He’s funny but in a wtf way? Bro is all jokes, thats IT. He also faces near monthly expulsion from his accounts but for inappropriate behavior in the public sphere.

Aaron funnily enough has the most followers out of all of them, even Kevin. Aaron’s account is basically faceless and he just posts candid shots of his life. Like look at my ice coffee, watch me study, here’s a time laps of me cleaning my dorm. Aaron is followed by a lot of people even people who don’t care about exy for the soul purpose of he somehow became one of those accounts that just gives people motivation. Funnily enough he did it by complete accident, he started posting photos for the soul purpose of keeping in touch with the friends he wasn’t supposed to have because Andrew. It exploded without him meaning too.

Even funnier? The other foxes have NO IDEA. Aarons internet handle is something dumb and not at all related to his name. So they all think Aaron is using the fact he’s the least problematic child to get out of media duty, and since Aaron doesn’t post his face online they don’t realize those photos that always go viral across the PSU campus are Aaron.

Wymack knows. Wymack has decided this is INFACT above his pay grade ( he also thinks its both funny and good for Aaron, since Aaron is usually the fox that gets looked over)

Aaron doesn’t pay that much attention to the numbers his posts make either. Bro really just likes pulling one on the other foxes.

Also study with me posts help keep him accountable for how he spends his own time.

[the-s1lly-corner]

Playing board/card games w/ various crps

Bro I am so... tired.. I'm going through one of my excessively sleepy periods hisshiss

Characters: ticci toby, jeff the killer, eyeless jack, hoodie

Notes: reader is GN, various games but admin has hardly played any of them himself, non specified games

CWs: none

JEFF THE KILLER

super competitive, especially if you bet on something... it might actually remove most of if not all of the fun because hes so... into it.. hes also a huge sore loser as well and will sulk for a bit if you end up beating him

and if the game is known for getting people heated? hes going to be trash talking- so hopefully you can take it and maybe even dish it out

not actually mad, you both have some back and forth banter while you two are playing despite some of the implications of the above- you both know whats off limits and whats free game

that said hes not much of a game person, he doesnt stick for more than a game or two

TICCI TOBY

that "eating the chess pieces every time the other player looks away" but its just you and toby with whatever game pieces you guys are working with- dice, cards, and so on

doesnt actually eat them probably but likely stuffs them into his sleeves or pockets... stares at the piece as it falls out, the room is dead quiet

doesnt really take the game all that seriously, even when you both make a bet on something... which can sometimes lead to him being stuck with extra chores or needing to go run out to get you your favorite soda

didnt play many games growing up either because he had no one to play with or no game, so youre going to have to teach him a lot of the rules and stuff

EYELESS JACK

he actually plays the game as intended, and if its a game that doesnt hinge off of change such as rolling a dice... he tries to make a strategy of sorts in order to win

hes a sore loser, though, but he does his best to hide it... usually... dont rub it into his face otherwise hes not going to play with you for the rest of the night

doesnt trash talk all that much either but will make a comment if you do something rather... dumb... that could possibly lose to your lose

there isnt much to do at his place, so playing board games over there is a common shared activity! you sometimes bring your old games to keep over there as well as buying new stuff to keep things fresh

HOODIE

he also actually tries to play the game and make a strategy for himself to win, sometimes takes long pauses to contemplate his moves before settling on what he wants to do

no use in trying to rush him because hes just going to pretend you didnt say anything- its not like hes taking a long time to think anyway

smug winner, but not that much of a sore loser... but he gets surprisingly competitive if you make some sort of bet with him... incredibly competitive... lets hope you guys dont play anything like monopoly or uno!

that... might end in someone sleeping on the couch that night...

[astroohoe]

Astro observations

Hi! I know its been a while since i posted ...was going through some thangs loll now let's get to itttt.

•Gemini women loves to gossip lol. They can literally be gossiping about you while youre literally there, they do not care if you hear or not . Honestly, i think the end goal was for you to hear theyre talking shit about you lol

•Gemini women have anger issues. They're really HOT TEMPERED and you can hear it from the top of their voice it's soooo bad😑

•Virgo women are mean 😑...most people dislike virgo women because they can criticize you, judge you all day and it might even seem like they bullying you lol...im a virgo myself and i don't even like most of the virgo women ive met ........they're personality is just 100% TRASH and they're sooo blunt eiiii😂😂😂

Ex:Beyonce in destinys's child...lol search for her old interviews with the...girl has been judging them all day😂 and the SHADE she used to give to them!! Guuuuuuuuurl was shady aslllll😂😂😂😂

•Taurus women are GOLDIGERS

•Aries sun men are selfish sometimes, they'll choose themselves first and you'll be soooo surprised😂

•Scorpio men are SENSITIVE! DRAMA KINGS ALL DAY...I swear I've never seen a man act sooooo petty and a bitch at the same time lol.

•Scorpio men are caring

•Scorpio men love love and loves the idea of love and a relationship lol they cant be single for oneday, always looking .

•Grown Capricorn men are 100% PREDATORY🙄

•Pieces men literally have a phase in their early 20's where they're just HOES and a menace in their relationships🤣😭😭😭 they could be dating three of four girls at the time and you wont even figure it out..that Neptune energy blurs all the lies..it makes them a GOOD LIAR and skilled at it....they can even gaslight you when you ask them if they are cheating on you...but when they grow in their 40's they actually STEP UP as MEN .they can literally reject girls to tell them im married and i love me wife..so be patient...They're also EXTREMELY LOVING AND SELF SACRIFICING 🥰🥰🥰🥰

.Pieces venus and mars knows how to give love, lol they're soooooo sweet. You're lucky to have a Pieces venus a bf or gf they know how to love.

•Virgo venuses are hoes100%

•Aquarius women are hypocrites but solo beautiful. They are shady friends and good at stealing peoples husbands and boyfriends....they're NOT that good of a people tbh.

•Sagitarrius women are thee most intelligent in the class followed by Capricorn women. They always get good grades . lol are you messing with a half horse half human and LITERALLY THE GOAT??😂😂😂 at you dumb??

•EARTH SIGNS WOULD ROAST YOU...YOU REALLY DO NOT WANT THE SMOKE WITH THEM....ESPECIALLY WITH TAURUS MEN...THEY WILL ROAST YOU TO EVEN END UP GETTING PLASTIC SURGERY

•Capricorn men can insult you on every deeper level.

•Virgo women have a sharp tongue and they can literally plan on revenging you honestly...im even scared of earth signs they're not to be played with .

•Sagitarius women see LITERALLY every women as they're competion...why??? They are one of theee most jealous signs EVER...LIKE??

•Gemini women are annoying tbh😑

•Capricorn girls were the mean girls in school 100%

•Aquarius mercuries have a smart mouth and a sooooo intelligent.

•Cancer women are soooo feminine...and extremely funny ...my beauties>>>>>>

•LEOS are soooooo motherly😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 like, i love y'all

•Aries and Libra....why do y'all like each other sooooo much??...and most of the times , it is the libras who chases the Aries suns...The libra men are sooooo obsessed with the Aries woman, or Aries rising lol....

So thats it forrrrr meeeee ......hope you enjoyed? Byeeee