#can you believe they wasted 210$ for this shit

[artisfaction]

Secret invasion amirite :')

[mysterylover123]

My Top 20 BKDK Moments (So Far)

by mysterylover123

Warning, anime onlys: I’ll be mentioning Manga stuff, though only 2 of them are all that spoiler-y

#20. YOU MADE THAT BORROWED POWER  YOUR OWN

3.19 “RUSH!” Provisional License Exam Arc

What Happens: Bakugo asks Midoriya if he’s made ‘that borrowed power’ his own, complimenting him indirectly by saying that of course he passed. Deku gets super excited at being complimented by him.

Why I like it: For all the shit they throw at one another early on, BK & DK do really look up to/respect each other. They won’t admit it easily, but scenes like this (and a later scene in Chapter 194, where Deku compliments Kacchan and he too reacts extremely) showcase that respect. I love it. Also, Kacchan knows Deku’s AM’s inheritor already.

#19. HAVE YOU GOTTEN ANY BETTER? (Manga)

Chapter 168 “The Strange Tale of Aoyama” Interlude arcs

What happens. Post Internship arc, Bakugo asks Deku if he’s gotten any better since they last talked. Deku says no, and Bakugo reminds him that he said he’d surpass him. This prompts Deku to work harder.

Why I like it: Ideal RivalShipping is about two characters pushing each other to be their best selves. Bakugo is great at getting Deku to try harder, just as Deku prompts his best self.

#18. YOUR QUIRK IS AMAZING, KACCHAN

Backstory flashback, multiple times. Mostly Battle Trial Arc

What happens: Baby Deku and Kacchan walk through the woods together, talking about quirks, before DK is found to be quirkless. This is one of many scenes of Baby Deku and Kacchan being casual friends.

Why I like it: I love the cute scenes of them as kids, where they seem to be actual friends and hang out together, bonding over All-Might and quirks and heroes. I hope we get to see them hang out like that again as adults some day.

#17. SECRET OFA TALKS (MANGA SPOILERS!)

Chapter 217: End of joint Training Arc

What Happens: Kacchan joins in the AM and Deku talks (for the 2nd time) to discuss what’s happening with OFA. He also works with Deku on trying to master his new ability.

Why I like it: Bakugo is instantly able to help Deku zero in on the information he needs up joining the secret OFA talks, in a way that AM wasn’t able to. He makes a great partner for Deku here, getting right to the point and refusing to waste time.

#16. “I COULD MOVE LIKE KACCHAN”

Hero-Killer Arc, 2.14-2.19

What Happens: Deku is trying to master OFA. He thinks about how he wants to move, and uses Kacchan’s moves as his model. He’s able to discover Full Cowling like this, which lets him fight Stain and do well in the race - and everyone notices (Iida, Uraraka, Todoroki, Bakugo) that he’s moving like Kacchan.

Why I like it: Deku has lots of moments where he thinks “What would Kacchan do” or tries to model himself on the guy. He admires the crap out of him - but not in the blind way he tries to imitate AM, or Ochaco tries to imitate Deku, or Iida Ingenium. Because Deku doesn’t hero-worship Baku, but sees his flaws, he’s able to imitate him without losing himself.

#15. “HE’S AMAZING”

Battle Trial Arc, 1.07-1.08

What happens: Midoriya and Uraraka are pitted against Kacchan and Iida in mock battle. Midoriya goes on and on and on about how awesome Kacchan is and how much he wants to beat him - first in a speech to Uraraka, later telling Bakugo to his face.

Why I like it: Deku really looks up to Kacchan, and even at their most adversarial, he still talks about him in positive terms and speaks of him as a cool guy he wants to surpass. Deku doing this is also good for Bakugo, since he’s able to acknowledge his flaws and strengths without kissing his ass like his sidekicks in middle school; Deku beating him upsets his pride and sets off his Character Development.

#14. TWIN STARS OF CLASS 1-A

3.17 Class 1-A, License Exam Arc

What Happens: Aizawa meta’s about his class with Ms Joke, explaining that Deku and Kacchan are the center of every Class A incident, and despite not getting along, their presence elevates everyone else up.

Why I like it: The staff of UA seem to ship BKDK. They teamed them up to fight AM and encourage them to get along. Aizawa sees clearly how each one inspires everyone else. This speech groups them together as a duo who act in tandem. Twin Stars.

#13. “THE MOST AMAZING HERO ALWAYS WINS IN THE END.”

2.24 “Katsuki Bakugo origin” Flashback

What happens. Baby Kacchan fights off a bunch of older kids, even though he’s in tears. Baby Deku watches him from afar and looks deeply impressed.

Why I like it: Deku seems to have admired Kacchan since he was really, really young. I’m not sure when this scene takes place, but Deku’s big smile and wide, shining eyes when watching Bakugo seem like a mark of affection and love to me.

#12. ABOUT MY/YOUR SHOOT STYLE

3.23 Deku vs Kacchan Part 2

What happens: Post Fight, under house arrest alone, Deku and Kacchan have a very civil conversation, where depending on the translation either Deku brings up Shoot style and asks for advice, or Kacchan offers it on his own. Ends with Deku smiling.

Why I like it: Post-DVK2, they immediately establish that they’re now capable of talking to each other in civil terms. Kacchan gives Deku civil advice, and despite saying ‘it pissed me off’, the whole exchange is beautifully positive.

#11. GET OUT OF MY WAY, DEKU

1.12 All Might USJ Arc

What happens: Deku jumps in to save Al Might and is nearly killed by Kurogiri. At the last second Kacchan saves him by taking down Kurogiri. Also Later Kacchan is nearly killed and Deku screams in horror.

Why I like it: Bakugo doesn’t have a ton of scenes where he saves Deku, but the few times he does save someone/show concern for them, it’s usually him. This is Baku’s first save, and though he phrases it in rude terms, he still does it. Actions> words.

#10. WELL, NOW I’M EVEN MORE EAGER (MANGA)

Chapter 202, joint Training Arc

What Happens: Deku and AM go off to talk OFA. Kacchan refuses to be left out and joins them voluntarily. Noticing Deku is upset he encourages him in his own way, which AM observes. Once Deku smiles, Kacchan goes back to being his abrasive self.

Why I Like it: Baku is newly nicer (in his Tsundere way) after DVK2. He’s actually able to be kind to Deku and encouraging. This is similar to the advice the OFA users give Deku later, which helps him actually use the power. OFA Co-conspirators FTW.

#9. NOW IT’S YOUR TURN

3.11-3.12 US of Smash

What Happens: Post All Might’s fight, Kacchan notices Deku’s tears and AM’s words, and puts the pieces together. He asks AM about Deku and when he’s shot down he remains quiet and brooding.

Why I like it: Bakugo changes forever in this section of the story. He realizes the truth about Deku. He blames himself for ending AM. He asks about Deku and shows awareness that something’s up with him. It’s all very self-aware and sweet.

(#8-2, examples of super-mega-ultra concern for each other)

#8. YOU’RE PROBABLY THE MOST FRUSTRATED OF ALL

3.04-3.10 Training Camp and Hideout Raid Arcs

What Happens: While fighting Muscular, Deku learns that Kacchan is in danger. He goes psycho Madman Deku mode for the whole Training Camp Arc, refusing to pause or rest until he’s saved Kacchan. He falls apart when Kacchan is taken, then immediately goes off to save him again even though he could die.

Why I like it. Deku likes saving people in general, but when someone threatens Kacchan, he goes crazy in a way he doesn’t for anyone else. He spends this whole arc hopped up on “Must save Kacchan” juice and keeps pushing and going no matter what. He cares about the guy, no two ways about it.

#7. DON’T COME, DEKU

3.07 “What a Twist!”

What happens: Bakugo is captured by villains. He’s being dragged through the portal and Deku comes barreling towards him with two broken arms, fully prepared to jump through the portal and die just to save him. Bakugo tells him not to and Deku listens.

Why I like it: Though this arc is filled with Deku being crazy protective of Baku, Baku gets his own fair share in right here. He tells Deku not to basically die protecting him, and Deku listens. Baku basically saves his life here, at the expense of his own.

#6. “ARE YOU ALL RIGHT? ARE YOU HURT?”

Backstory flashback repeated a lot.

What happens: Baby Kacchan slips and falls into a creek. Baby Deku goes down to help him up and asks if he’s ok. This offends Baby Kacchan’s pride.

Why I like it: Bakugo probably never had anyone treat him like a fallible human being until Deku came along. Everyone told him he was amazing and could never be hurt - but Deku doesn’t. That bruises his ego at first, but in reality it’s exactly what he needs: Someone who cares about him and will protect him, while still admiring him. (Plus this scene is cute).

#5. HOW CAN HE SMILE… (MANGA SPOILERS. MASSIVE ONES)

Chapter 210, Joint Training Arc

What Happens: In an effort to piss Deku off and get him to talk, Monoma using Shinso’s power taunts him about Bakugo, saying that Bakugo shouldn’t be able to smile since he destroyed All Might. Deku’s new quirk goes PsychoBerserker out of control in response.

Why I like it: Deku’s power-ups are often connected with Baku in some way. Like many superpowers, OFA seems to be fueled by emotions. So targeting Bakugo brings out Deku’s greatest powers. In this case, though, it’s not a villain trying to hurt him. It’s someone insulting him. And that means Deku will defend Kacchan’s honor and feelings as well as his safety.

#4. I GOT MY QUIRK FROM SOMEONE ELSE

1.08 “Bakugo’s Start Line”

What Happens: Post Battle Trial Arc, Bakugo is in emotional freeful. Deku notices and chases after him, telling him for no goddamn good reason that he has an inherited power. Kacchan doesn’t believe him and instead pours his heart out to him, crying and promising to beat him.

Why I like it: Buncha reasons. 1) Deku ditches all his lovely friends, including Ochaco, to go comfort Kacchan. Even in the same way Ochaco just ditched Kaminari. 2) Deku tells Kacchan about OFA. He won’t tell anyone else, he just decided comforting Kacchan was more important than his entire reason for being here. 3) Kacchan cries in front of Deku and tells him how he feels insecure. He doesn’t do that in front of anyone else. 4) Warm lighting, deep eye contact, and the beginning of a beautiful rivalry.

#3. DEKU AND KACCHAN VS ALL MIGHT

2.24 “Katsuki Bakugo Origin”

What happens: Deku and Kacchan work together to fight AM, after a nasty fight. Deku calls Kacchan out for not being himself. Kacchan sacrifices his body to make sure Deku can escape. Deku socks AM in the face to protect Kacchan. They win.

Why I like it: For a moment that started out so dark (sock to the face), this one gets sweet fast. On Deku’s side: He reprimands Kacchan for not acting like himself, compliments his can-do- attitude, and works together with him, overcoming his fear; he finds the strength to punch AM in the face to save Kacchan, with a callback to ep 2. Kacchan’s strength helps Deku win. On Kacchan’s side: He works with Deku to win, giving him his gauntlet, and sacrifices his safety so Deku can get out, even sounding kinda concerned for him when he gets in danger. They showcase what a great team they could/will make when they work together.

#2. MY LEGS MOVED BEFORE I COULD THINK

Chapter 1/Episode 2: Izuku Midoriya Origin/What it Takes to be a Hero

What happens: Deku, in a fit of depression, sees the monster AM saved him from suffocating some kid. He’s freaking out till he sees that it’s Kacchan. He runs into deadly danger to save Kacchan, inspiring AM to save them both.

Why I like it: Because this moment changed Deku’s entire life and Kacchan’s as well. Deku’s legs ‘move’ before he can think. And it’s explicitly because it’s Kacchan in danger; he doesn’t move until he sees Kacchan’s terrified eyes. Kacchan also shows concern for Deku, telling him to get away (he didn’t say that to the pros trying to save him) so he doesn’t die. This is another scene that follows up on an awful fight between the two, and changes both lives forever. Saving Kacchan gets Deku OFA. Being saved by Deku opens Kacchan to his humility for the first time and stops him from hassling Deku. Plus, just a super-snippy moment to me.

BONUS: Anime only, OPS & EDS

OP 1: The Day

Deku and Kacchan are surrounded by the romantic cherry blossom trees.

OP 3: Sora Ni Utaeba

Deku and Kacchan brooding on each other.

ED 3: Datte Atashi No Hiro 

Admitted by the writer to be about Deku’s feelings for Kacchan. Fantasy Deku with his hand over his heart watching Kacchan. BKDK teaming up in Fantasy AU to beat All Might as they look each other deeply in the eyes.

2.24 OG

Anime-only Kabe-Don scene.

OP 4: Odd Future

Deku’s head bows when Kacchan is stolen.

ED 4: Update

“Cause I love, cause I love, cause I love being with you.” While they watch the stars together.

OP 5: Make My Story

2 halves, one whole.

THE BEST:

#1. Deku vs Kacchan Part 2

Chapter 116-121/Episodes 3.22-3.23

“It’s about your quirk…If your way of looking at him was right, does that mean my admiration was wrong?”

“No matter how many times I pushed you away, you always keep coming back!”

“We never talked about our real feelings…”

“Why was I the reason for All Might’s end?”

“The only one who can receive Kacchan’s feelings is me.”

“To me, you were an amazing, inspiring person, who was much closer to me than All Might. That’s why I kept chasing after you” (is it me or does this sound exactly like Hinata’s love confession to Naruto in the Invasion of Pein arc?)

“This is gross, so I can’t tell you, but…you’re my image of victory.”

“If the two of you recognize each other, and honestly raise each other up, you can become the best heroes, who both win and rescue.”

What Happens: Deku and Kacchan tell each other how they really feel. Through a fight because Shonen.

Why I like it: AM himself says it. They’re perfectly matched. They need each other to become the greatest heroes. Kacchan knows he can only talk to Deku about how he’s feeling; nobody else can receive his feelings. Deku loves and admires Kacchan as his friend, not his Great Hero like AM. It’s just perfect.

[thereddeath2093-blog]

2020A_CW-210 personal blog post

DOOM

By Steven Bunch

                 I spend a lot of time thinking about doom. It’s a rather abstract concept to preoccupy oneself with, but still I find myself living a “doomed” life. I listen to doom metal, I watch movies and TV shows full of doomed people on doomed worlds, I fantasize about the doom of the planet and my own personal doom. It even gets so much more specific to the point of absurdity; my favorite rapper is MF DOOM, my favorite super villain is Dr. Doom, I even play DOOM the video game.

               Half of my time spent thinking about doom, is trying to understand what the word itself really means. What is doom? What does it mean to be doomed? This as you can imagine inspires all sorts of philosophical questions about life and death, fate and inevitability, as well as many others. For all my pondering, I can’t really come up with a solid answer or something definitive. Sure, I could go with a typical dictionary definition of the idea, but it is more than that to me. It encompasses too much to be summarized and completed in a single or simple string of sentences. It’s an aesthetic, an ideology, and a state of being to me, something transcendental unto itself.

               The aesthetics of Doom are easily recognized but much like the idea itself, abstract and difficult to definitively explain. There are rather obvious tropes and visual elements that appear in art and media that are representative of what I’m talking about; ruined buildings, smoke filled skies, destroyed cities, dead bodies, anything apocalyptic really. However, the idea is much deeper than that. A piece of art, or anything visual, that can inspire feelings of dread, despair, or hopelessness exemplify this aesthetic in its purest forms. This has a place in the greater sense of the word and the idea of Doom itself.

               The ideology of Doom, unlike a lot of ideologies, is not one that is readily “chosen” in the same way one might choose to be a democrat or one would take up the cause of conservation. This is a kind of mentality that people usually fall into, and more so often than they might realize. Unlike the aforementioned aesthetics, the ideology is easily explained and familiar to most people. While chiefly the mentality is signified by feelings of doom or feeling doomed, it is a little more complicated than that. A true ideology of doom comes when this mentality is reflected out into the world as a whole rather than the individual. More than a simple feeling of personal helplessness, an ideology of doom encompasses the whole of humanity, to see the entire human race as doomed. As you can imagine, this is not a particularly hot-take, especially these days. That being said, embracing this fact would be the key difference between someone who is merely cynical and someone who is waiting with baited breathe for the apocalypse. Which is essentially what I’m talking about.

               People would scarcely admit to themselves, and even more so to each other, that they want the world to end. But the fact of the matter is that most people on some level do. Being a “doomer” has even become a popular internet meme. You get a sense of this feeling anytime someone has a particularly fashionable doomsday prophecy or something like this virus breaks out. People talk about “what if this gets worse?” and “what if this is the ‘big one’?” and they do so in very practical sensible ways, but it’s not hard to see something under the practical nervous façade everyone displays. There’s a part of it that is exciting to everyone. There’s a little voice in every one’s head that says “well fuck, if the world ends, I don’t have to go to work on Monday”.

Now that might seem rather funny like a Sunday newspaper comic, but there’s something deep in the psychology of that mindset. People don’t want to have to go to work, but more than that, they don’t want to be expected to participate in the societal machine that makes people go to work and earn money. Part of being an adult is accepting and fulfilling obligations that are somewhat thrust upon you from outside regardless of how one feels about those particular obligations. People are to a degree forced to participate in a society that they don’t agree with, or at the very least, do not like their position in. An apocalypse frees the shit scrubber and the burger flipper to eat his boss and give a finger to the man free of any guilt of any financial or typical consequence. All of us have someone higher on us on the ladder we wouldn’t mind making a meal out of.

Naturally this all extends outside of working relationships and obligations, but to the far reaches of civilization as a whole. Every person from pauper to prince is well aware, that the “system” in place is not only incredibly flawed and corrupt, but also antithetical to the very human soul itself. Obvious injustices such as bigotry, war, poverty; as well as little things like traffic, wasted time, rudeness, all support the notion that something is wrong .“The system” as your local pothead would call it, isn’t designed to crush people into machines and thoughtless consuming automatons, but one can’t be faulted for believing it so, considering how often said system produces such hollow beings. One of the mindset of “Doom” recognizes that the easiest way for these things to change, if they can be changed, is to wipe the slate clean entirely.

                This is the point where most people will close this page because I’m starting to sound like a cultist of some kind. But, those people aren’t remiss to do so. This is the kind of mentality that leads people into cults. Nearly every cult is a “doomsday” cult of some kind. Even Christianity for all its pomp and circumstance, is hardly ever different. Some of the most colorful and interesting passages of the Bible come from the book of Revelations and the prophecy for the end of the world. That’s how natural this all is, how prevalent it is in the human psyche. We have always been waiting for the end of the world, because unlike most animals, we are very poignantly aware of our own mortality, and this awareness manifest itself in strange ways. The strangest of all being embracement.

               This leads to my final point about Doom itself as a state of being, the embracement of death. Now again, I’m not trying to get all death-cult on you, but there is something to be said for not only accepting one’s own mortality, but embracing it. The fact of the matter is, life sucks, and not just these days or in a particular circumstance. Life, on the whole, is a tragedy. We are born into fragile bodies against our will, bodies that will very slowly decay with us trapped inside them. We are born into families we do not choose, with people who do not know but are entrusted with our entire existence, and then as an adult expected to serve someone else entirely. We are expected to work and struggle and to get sick and to suffer until we are physically incapable anymore. And if you whine about it, there will always be someone to chime in and remind you that your particular suffering isn’t even close to the breadth of suffering humans can experience because “someone always has it worse”. This is a world where a good death is considered “getting old”, which is essentially just fermenting and rotting longer than anybody else.  

               To be “Doomed” in this sense is a recognition and rejection of fighting these things. If we are all going to die, then there can be no “good death”. All death is natural, all the world is transient, a passing image. Nothing, least of all people, last forever. You spend a lot more time dead than alive in the grand scheme of things, and in that, being dead is more of the default state. That’s not to say that this is a suicidal feeling at all. This isn’t some philosophy of suicide in so much as it is a philosophy of embracing the inevitable end of all things. Someone in the “doomed” state of being isn’t going to go out and seek the end of their own life, but they aren’t the kind of person to shy away from it either. They allow themselves to fall away and let go of life’s worries much more readily. There is a reason that coming to terms with one’s own mortality is a huge part of Zen and eastern spiritual learning.

Why would you shy away from death and doom if the world is a bag of ass and you’re going to die anyway?

               After many hours wasted thinking, I have come to the conclusion that this is where I draw my artistic inspiration from. All of my world view is painted with a funeral veil. I find myself obsessed with the aesthetics of doom because I constantly live in that state of being. I can’t help but feel a compulsion to drive this aesthetic as far as I can. I feel the innate urge to draw visions of monsters, destroyed cities, and the sky shredded by cosmic terror so naturally. I can’t help but express this feeling through my artwork. Something within me wants to say to people, or remind them; “hey, not only are things like suffering and death very real, but sometimes they are the only thing that is. They are inevitable and they shouldn’t not be cowered from, but embraced and mastered.”

Now, maybe I’m projecting too much. (I tried not to be too first person, oh well). Perhaps I’m just trying to explain my own morbid fascinations I can’t otherwise do so with. Maybe I’m just too edgy for my own good or it’s because I have a very strong belief in the afterlife. Though it’s not out of the realm of possibility that there’s just some people out there (myself chiefly included) who are just sort of depressing, death obsessed freaks. However, I gamble a stamp, that considering how many depressing death obsessed freaks are really out there in the world, that I’m not entirely off-base when I talk about these things being prevalent in the subconscious of the human race as a whole. I believe something deep in the human psyche craves a change, craves destruction to make way for something new. Something in each of us wants these things no matter the cost, something in each of us, craves Doom.

[saibugs]

Cristina crossed her ankles as she sat in the office, watching the woman—Piper, she’d introduced herself before—flit about and gather a tape recorder, paper, and pens. Robert sat nearby, watching everything with a cold aloof expression, not particularly interested but not bored either.

“So, Blue.”

The nickname took Cris by surprise, and furrowed her brows. “Blue? Where’d that nickname come from?”

“You may not be wearing the blue suit, but that Pip-Boy? You’re a Vaultie.”

“You make that sound like a bad thing.” She laid her free hand over her Pip-Boy unconsciously. “Yes, I came from a Vault.”

“I knew it!” Piper threw herself onto the couch and grinned. “Okay, so, I wanted to ask you a few questions. Since you’re new here, and you’ve never been to Diamond City before, I wanted an outsider’s perspective onto the city and the world in general.”

This is a waste of my time, Cristina wanted to say, but instead she nodded.

“What was your time like inside the Vault?”

The question was one Cristina had hoped she could avoid out here, and she gripped her Pip-Boy just that little bit tighter. She had to be honest… People needed to know about Vault-Tec and their crimes, even if they no longer existed out here. “I don’t… recall too much. I was frozen for most of it.”

Piper’s pen stopped scratching on the paper, and she peered up at Cristina. Robert looked over as well, tilting his head slightly. “Wait… you entered the Vault, and you were frozen?”

“That’s right. According to my Pip-Boy, and my old Mr Handy, it’s been a little over 210 years.” She wanted to shrink into the back of her chair at the two gazes. Please stop staring at me.

“Wow… okay, so that leads me to my next question. How do you think the Commonwealth compares to life… before?”

Cristina considered this. “It’s… a lot more ruined than I remember, but I look at it and I feel hope. Everyone’s still surviving, still trying to live despite everything. The people can be much rougher, and there’s… things that I’m going to struggle to adjust to, but I think there’s hope for the world.”

Piper nodded, writing some notes down. “Now, you mentioned to McDonough before that you were looking for your son.” Her tone changed, and Cristina swallowed at the sadness. “Do you think… the Institute is responsible?”

There it was again: the Institute. Danse had mentioned this before, but not once had she considered they could be responsible. “I honestly don’t know. From what I read in the paper, it’s possible, but I have to keep an open mind for now.”

Her answer was scribbled down, and Piper nodded. “Alright, last question: what would you say to a person who’s lost a loved one, but is too scared to look for them?”

“Don’t give up hope. I know it’s hard, and there is every possibility you may never find them, or you may find them dead. But never give up. There is every chance they’re still alive, still out there, still hanging onto hope that you’re coming for them.” Her heart was heavy as she answered, and she was trying not to tear up. Robert pulled himself from his chair and strode over as Cristina and Piper rose. Piper was sombre.

“Thank you for that. The issue will be out tomorrow. And… if you need help finding your son… the guards are useless anyway, you wouldn’t want their help, but go talk to Nick Valentine.”

“Nick Valentine?”

“Yeah, he’s the town’s private eye.”

Cristina nodded. “Thank you for your help, Piper.” She and Robert left the office and headed towards the private eye’s office.

As they walked… “No wonder you’ve been to Diamond City before it was the city,” Robert said, looking at her from the corner of his eye. “You probably watched a few games of baseball, yeah?”

“Nah, I was never interested in it. I watched one, once, and never came back.”

He laughed. “Was it bloody? Brutal?”

She looked at him in abject horror. “E-Excuse me?!” Her voice was just a tad too loud; passersby looked over with raised eyebrows. She cringed under the scrutiny and hissed, “Bloody? Brutal? Baseball’s none of that! People just hit balls and run around a pitch.”

Robert furrowed his brows. “Only stories I’ve ever heard of baseball, they lobbed balls at each other at incredible speeds and the aim was to try and hit someone with the ball and seriously wound them.”

Her face paled. “This world is fucked, man.”

Robert said no more, and they walked to the office in relative silence. By the time they got there, sadly, it was dark and everyone was going to bed, so Cristina decided to ask, “Is there a place we can get a room for the night?”

“Yeah, the Bobrovs have rooms to rent.”

She didn’t question this as he led her to the Dugout Inn. It wasn’t too busy, but there were a few tough looking characters inside, and fear coiled in her gut. Considering they all stared at her. Because she was taller she couldn’t exactly hide behind Robert, either, so she kept her head down as they walked over to a man leaning against a wall. Robert did most of the talking, asking for a room with two beds, and paying up.

Once they were inside, “So… what was life like before… all this?” Robert asked, gesturing at the room they were sitting in. Cristina knew he meant the Commonwealth. “Was it nice?”

“It… was, somewhat.” Cristina sighed and set her gun down, shaking her head. “There were issues with it, issues in my own life too, and war was always on the horizon. The government was messed up, the military basically did what the government wanted—with some rather opinionated people speaking up every so often—and the world was going to shit. We were running out of resources faster than people were led to believe.”

He didn’t appear to understand. “It wasn’t… idyllic, as the old ghouls say?”

“Fuck no.” She rubbed her face, wincing as the gash on her eyebrow stung. “But I will say it was monumentally better than here.”

He noticed the wound as he sat on his bed. “Where’d you get that? Seems relatively fresh.”

“Some big ass lizard monster gave it to me.”

“Wait… wh… you fought a deathclaw and survived?! You?!”

“I don’t know whether to be offended by that or not.” She sighed. “I’m going to catch some shuteye. It’s been a long day.”

Robert nodded. “Night, then.”

“Night.”

Cristina shot bolt upright, her chest tight, gasping for air. She shook as she clutched at the blankets, not knowing that she’d roused her companion from his sleep. Blearily he looked over at her, blinked a few times as he noticed her distress, but didn’t ‘wake up’ in time as Cris jumped out of bed and shot out of the room. She fled the Dugout without her gun, without her pack, without anything, instead managing to find somewhere… quiet. And it was at the edge of a pool of water that she sat, trembling, her heart hurting and her mind racing.

Robert joined her after some time had passed, and sat beside her, not saying a word. She was curled into a ball, her legs tucked tightly to her body, her arms around her knees. She stared at the water, or rather right through it, staring right into nothing.

“You good?” the mercenary said after a few beats.

“No.” She swallowed. “No I’m not.” Her eyes flicked to him. “I just want to find my son. I just… I…” She choked up and covered her mouth. “F-Fuck…”

He actually took his jacket off and draped it over her shoulders. “What’s the deal with your son, Boss?”

“I don’t want to talk about it…” She swallowed. “I…” She shook her head. “You’ll hear all about it when I see this… detective in the morning.”

“It is the morning.”

She rolled her eyes. “Later on in the morning, then.” She sighed and pulled his coat around her shoulders. They fell into silence, sitting together, moving only when the sun rose. They made their way back to the Dugout, got their gear—MacCready checked it to ensure nothing had been stolen—and headed out to the detective agency.

Cristina stepped into the tiny, cramped office and peered around. “Excuse me?” she queried, seeing nobody.

From around the back a woman appeared, arching an eyebrow and putting her hands on her hips. Her voice wasn’t unfriendly when she spoke, but… “I’m sorry, but the agency’s closed.”

Panic set in. “Oh, oh no, please, I really need the help—”

“Ma’am, you don’t understand,” the woman interrupted. “The agency’s closed permanently.”

Her blood ran cold and she turned white. “What do you mean…?” Cristina squeaked.

“The detective’s gone missing,” she replied. “And he hasn’t returned for some time.”

“I can find him!” she blurted without thinking. “I’ll find him and bring him back!”

Robert looked at her, crossing his arms. “Boss, we don’t even know where this detective went—”

The woman interrupted. “He went down to the Vault near the Boston Common.”

“Nope!” Robert shook his head. “I am not going there!”

“I am!” Cristina nodded. “I’ll go and find him, I know where the Common is!” She ran out of the agency, leaving Robert and the woman standing there, aghast.

Because what Cristina didn’t know would kill her.

[thestudyfeels]

hello there! this is part three of the get your shit together series! note: this article is a bit philosophical and wisdom-y, bc lmao i’m writing this thing at a way-too-late o’ clock so I’m going to shout at y'all and try to hammer this (good) shit into your heads the hard way. I apologize in advance, friend.

The Harsh Reality

I want you to do a reality check right now. C'mon, do it. How much did you get done today? Did you procrastinate yet again? 99% chances are that you did and that you failed to complete your to-do list. yet again. hey, don’t go away just yet. I’m just showing you what’s popping in your lives right now. And holy moly, you are wasting your life. That’s the harsh reality. I don’t know how else to break it to you, but yeah, you are wasting your life. As for feeling offended, you should. if you are, I can tell you that it’s working. I’m going to do magic here, just wait. alright, I want you to take a look, a deep look, into this picture. this is the number of weeks an average 90 year old has in his/her life. The number of years you too have, take or give a few more. And as Tim Urban said in his TedTalk, there aren’t really that many boxes! specially since we have used quite of them! now most probably you are shrugging this off by thinking “yo taylor, there are still quite a few left.  and to be accurate, we still have more that half of those boxes left. Chill dude.” and hey, you are not wrong. But here’s a different view towards it. Do you think you’ll be able to work your best when you are old and your bones are dying and you can literally hear a pop sound when you stretch everyday? you won’t. And even if you think you will, (I’ll pray for your bones, mate #rip) you wouldn’t want to. Wouldn’t you want to use the later years in your life to enjoy the fruits of your hard work? most likely, you would. So if that’s the case, I’m here to tell you that time is running out. Seriously. you don’t have enough of it.

Why Are You Doing This?

the biggest reason why people waste their time is because we haven’t learn how precious it is. We don’t understand that our life is super short. That humans are mortal and one day or another, we won’t be there anymore. We don’t understand that we only have a few decades to become the person we aspire to be, to live the dreams we’ve have had since forever. We believe if we don’t do our work today, it’s ok because we have tomorrow. And if not tomorrow, hey next year sounds great.

Every single thing takes a hell lot of time. An person sleeps for an average of 7 hours a day. That’s 49 hours a week. And 210 hours a month. And that’s 2520 hours a year. So, you sleep for more than 105 days straight in a year. Thus, you sleep for an approx of a complete year in four years of your life. Isn’t that a LOT of time? And that’s not all. We humans waste our time on a lot of other things and I only took the example of sleep, which is absolutely necessary. I didn’t even consider the other unnecessary things we spend our time on like cough, tumblr-ing, watching netflix etc. That’s why, it’s time that you learn to value your time more than anything else. Because your “real life” that comes after subtracting all the necessary and unnecessary things that you do, is really really short. and I’m not joking, I promise.

Loving Your Life

so now that you know how preciously short your life is, the next important thing is loving it.

why love it?

we only value things we care for or if them are necessary to us. We care for our friends and family bc we love them. We value our phone bc it’s impt to us and we can’t live without it. so unless you love your life, how will you ever value it? you’ll go on living with the flow, never getting the time to try out new things and to live life. Learn to love your life. It’ll change your entire perspective towards it.

ok but how do we do that then?

well, I got you mate. And no lmao, you don’t have to put up cute quotes on your dresser saying things like “yay, you are amazing!! I love you!!.” Those things are great, but loving life isn’t as easy as that. Nothing worth having comes easy. There you go, your quote for the day. But yes, there will be days when you have low self-esteem, and you’ll feel like beating yourself up for the smallest of the things. However if you truly love your life, you will be able to pick yourself up and clean up your own mess without too many pity-parties. well, here’s the only method to love your life, in the real way i.e. not the cheesy one, and it is - living in the present. story time, something I realized on my second last trip was that I never remembered what I had done on trips I had been on before. and in fact the reason wasn’t bc I had a bad memory, bc I had an amazing memory! (ur girl’s killin’ it in history, come tHRU) the reason was not being present at all. I was living on autopilot all throughout the trip, looking forward to what I was going to do next, than enjoying what I was doing now. As a result, I didn’t make any great memories. This time however, I was prepared.

how did I do this? / how do we live in the present?

remind yourself again and again to focus on what’s happening now, forget about what you’ll do in the future.

if reminding doesn’t help, literally tell yourself what you’re doing right now. When I was visiting this museum, I would tell myself - "now you are going to go into this beautiful place. Make some great memories.”

jot down what you did. I used to forget what I did all the time, so I started writing what I was doing including the tiny things that happened and honestly this has helped me so much.

the gratefulness list. every time you feel like you are living in autopilot, remind yourself of a wonderful day you have spent and tell yourself that if you live in autopilot you won’t remember any happy memories (how scary is that, and it has happened to me so trust me, it ain’t fun) & then force yourself not to zone out and come back to the present.

now ofc you are thinking - how does living in the present help you fall in love with your life?

well, it does. Once you start living in the present, you start noticing smol tiny details in the picture which you earlier wouldn’t have noticed. Suddenly, on my fall trip, I could see the tiny flowers near our hotel’s garden which would have passed my notice earlier. I noticed how I didn’t reach for my phone that much, other than to write down the day’s events. And obviously, I remembered laughing over zombie movies with my friends on the trip, I remembered the cheerful smile this woman gave me when I thanked her for helping me, I remembered all the tiny happy memories we had made. bc unless you start enjoying the little things in your life, and start “living”, how would you even expect to live a beautiful life? you need to be grateful and thankful for the happy memories you have made along the way if you want to be able to enjoy the life you live. And ofc unless you love your life, you won’t be able to value it. AND unless you value your life, there’s no question of conquering it.

The Action Plan

so now what? it’s time to realize that the person you love, aka you, is running out of time to become the person you would love to be. won’t you try to help yourself? here’s what to do. roll up your sleeves, use that beautiful mind you have, and mold your dream life out of your present one. it’s gonna take lots of hard work and hustle, but I know you have it in you. leggo.

hello! still there with me? hAH but i rly enjoyed preaching in this post and writing it for you guys bc honestly loving the life you live and living your life in the way you want is truly the best feeling in the world. but yup, I won’t bore you anymore (I will, but that’s in another masterpost, don’t leave me hAHA) so that’s it, it’s a wrap! if you have any questions/suggestions regarding anything I said up there, feel free to send in a message! my other masterposts are here and to request a masterpost, leave your question in my ask box!

I hope you all are well, stay safe and conquer life, you amaze conqueror. much love, Taylor   (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

[mcoopercreative]

Printing a Portfolio or, “What To Do With All That Money You Saved From Quitting Smoking”

One question I get asked by my IRL photog pals is how I put together my print portfolio. You might ask yourself how relevant a printed portfolio even is when one has a viewing with an art/photo director or buyer and my answer is “very”. As I work tirelessly on expanding my clientele and my business heading into the New Year, I realized I finally had to bite the bullet and invest in the best portfolio presentation I could within my own means.

At this point in my career, I am fortunate enough to have a wide range of retainers and regular clients — but I’m not getting any younger when it comes to pursuing some of the dream clients I moved to New York to aim for. I turned 30 recently and it was time to shit or get off the pot.

Most photographers have a similar model: print medium-to-large images, assemble them by a certain diverse colour palette and mood and present the edit in a custom-made book with screwposts. Some insist that print is dead, and presenting a portfolio in print is just a waste of money and resources — therefor solving the chopping down of the rain forest crisis themselves with an iPad or tablet portfolio. Now... I don’t have a real problem with a digital portfolio. I used an iPad myself earlier in my career, and most kids out of school use it as a necessary means to have some way to show their work. I also didn’t get hired very often.

So picture this: you hold your own beautifully printed work in your hands. You photographed it, you spent hours touching up all of the fine details, and sent it to the client for the glory of seeing your name under it and the satisfaction of knowing you’re in the game. But you haven’t felt the power of your own talent until you can hold it in your hands — and when you do, it’s like holding your own newborn baby. Walking into a meeting with a print portfolio gives you confidence in your abilities, your clientele and your pricing structure. Handing the work to your potential client tells them that you are respectable, know what you’re doing, and your expertise are worth the money.

While organizing a nice presentation of work with a book and screw posts is not out of the question for the future, I opted to go with something a little different. 

My print portfolio consists of a small number of 8x10 loose prints stacked inside a matte black portrait box made for me by the fine folks at Tyndell Photographic. I took an extension of the impressive brand identity made for me by Brooklyn-based designer Jason Bacher and had a commercial ink dye applied to the lid of the box.

Once opened, 15-20 matte prints rest snugly and neatly organized in order of my desired presentation for the particular client. I wanted prints that could be picked up and cover a desk or table if needed, which I believe makes a unique impression. It’s also cool to see how the client may re-arrange the prints based on their own tastes.

The paper was a tough call to make. I’ve had test prints made on some beautiful paper stocks, and others that really fell flat. It’s of most importance, though, to have a smooth paper stock that can hold up in just about any light condition.

Ultimately, I fell in love with Canson Infinity Rag Photographique, so much so that I even ran off 50 prints for my annual end-of-year mailer. Photographique is a 100% cotton museum grade white Fine Art and photo paper with a smooth texture available in two weights - 210 GSM & 310 GSM. If possible, I recommend paper more on the thick side. While matte paper with a smooth or even uncoated feeling is my personal preference, you should go with your gut. I know many photographers whose personal preference lies in a more glossy or saturated presentation for richer contrast and colour tones.

Though some recommend the likes of WHCC or even Adorama for basic print choices, I chose the fellas at Blick in NoHo. I could write a separate essay about how much I adore the guys at Blick and their fantastic customer service. If I could bake a fruit cake for Ed for the holidays, I would. Seriously. Maybe I’ll bring him a can of Trader Joe’s chicken chili (it’s something) (also, it’s pretty good for a starving artist - I highly recommend it).

Once the Tyndell portrait box had arrived and Blick had run off the collection of prints I needed to begin, I faced a new level of neuroses: collating a coherent narrative of 15-20 pages that would be provide a compelling representation of my best work and a finish that says, “Hire me, I’m fucking hungry and eager!” without overstating it.

Most photo directors will strain their attention after looking at your 20th page, if not before. The focus you should have is keeping a tight edit that recalls Ginsberg’s famous line about not being afraid to kill your darlings. Images that might be your favorite, or might feature your most recognizable subject or gig that you’re very proud of, need to go in the trash if they don’t fit into the seamless narrative of your edit. And honestly, spreading out 30 or 50 pages of prints is an agonizing process that sits with you for weeks at a time until you have a “eureka!” moment or pull a “Hail Mary” having a happy hour cocktail too many and say “fuck it” while you put it to rest until next time.

M. Cooper

LINKS

Canson Infinity Rag Photographique Tyndell Photographic Blick

[kryssieness]

On Medical Professionals (rant)

I’m bothered by something...

I had a doctor’s appointment on the 30th of January with a new GP. My husband was with me. I’m pretty negative towards doctors because I only go when I’m sick or have a problem...and, of course, they never believe me.

I explained my symptoms to the new GP, but I got a real sense of “there’s nothing I can do for you” from her. She referred me back to the RA Specialists (for some reason) and that was that.

I was analyzing how I felt about the visit and told my husbeast (who was with me during the appointment) that I didn’t think I’d go back to her. I wasn’t really interested in a physical because, on paper, I’m healthy and I know it. There’s no point in going in for a physical when they aren’t going to find any problems. Surprise: This has been my entire fucking life! He told me that he thought this doctor had done a really good job and she actually listened to what I was saying, except when I went into “story-mode.”

That really pissed me off.

I’m trying to compress 2 years of severe issues into a 30 minute conversation. The answers to the questions you’re asking aren’t simple answers.... if you can’t pay attention to my “story mode,” then you have no business trying to treat me. If you can’t help me, just say, “I can’t help help you,” and don’t waste my time and energy.

I mean, how do you explain to someone who has never met you that up until 3 years ago, you were incredibly strong, active, and hyper-energetic while they’re staring at you now, barely able to sit up and talk because you’re so goddamn exhausted and you’re using a cane to walk so you don’t face plant, plus you’ve gained back every single pound you lost via powerlifting? THERE’S A FUCKING STORY THERE AND YOU’D BETTER PAY ATTENTION.

I’m not even 40 yet. I used to bench 115lbs and squat about 210 (deadlift was 190lbs). Now? I can barely pick up a 10lbs dumbbell most days. I’d started having problems with my hands back in 2012 when I was powerlifting. They’d get super stiff when I was holding onto the bar and I couldn’t release them from the bar without a lot of mental effort. It started around September of 2012, after I’d been lifting for a year. It didn’t matter if I was doing squats or bench presses; my hands wouldn’t open without effort. My sister (who’s a nurse) suggested I see an RA Specialist at that time because RA hobbles through our family.

But, X-Rays showed I had no damage to my joints, and I’m sero-negative for RA (and autoimmune disorders, in general). My tests, however, show a good deal of inflammation in my body... but, as always, I’m fine on paper.

Yeah. I have a story. You’re a doctor and should really be interested in my story. Because.... you’re here to fucking TREAT MY STORY and see if you can figure out what the fuck is wrong with me.

Oh, and the topper? She was *surprised* my former GP was considering MS as a diagnosis for me. She told me that MS was “a serious diagnosis.” I almost lost it and said, “No shit! Could it be because I have, I dunno, a serious fucking condition?!” I was in a great deal of pain (enough that my BP and pulse were elevated), I was exhausted, but my filters were still in tact, so I didn’t go off on her completely.  I did get a smidge snarky, though. Seriously.

...and I feel like a horrible person, thinking, “I hope I do have a serious illness that, had you not treated me like a fucking hypochondriac from the outset, could have been resolved without permanent damage to my system!” I’m just that pissed. I mean, I know it’s not the same, at all, but, when I was 9, I had my left roller skate kicked out from under me while I was moving. It twisted my knee around and I limped severely on it for about 6 months. There was nothing wrong, you see. As I got older, I would complain about my knee catching and making noises when I knelt down and such...or, slipping out of place (which also happened with frequency). I was told I was fine; nothing wrong. In college, I went to a specialist for it because it really effing hurt. I was told that a piece of meniscus had broken off and was floating around in my knee; that it was nothing to worry about. I got smart with that douchenozzle. He hadn’t done anything except listen to me say it hurt and I thought something had happened when I was 9 because that was the most traumatic injury I’d had. “Too long ago,” he said. When I was 28, my knee swelled up to the size of a grapefruit and I couldn’t move it. I went to an orthopedic surgeon and said, “I’m going to tell you a story and if you tell me I’m wrong or I’m just making this up, I’m going to punch you in the face.” And I told him about how my skate was kicked from underneath me, the subsequent limping, and all the shit I put up with from doctors over the intervening 20 years.

He did an MRI and an X-Ray and found nothing out of place. He was confused because there was evidence of a problem, but there was no evidence of the problem on paper. He decided to do surgery, if for no other reason than to see why my knee was a grapefruit. He told me about lateral release surgery, which he thought he would have to do, but first, he’d scope it. When I came to after surgery, he was standing over me, grinning from ear to ear, giddy. “YOU WERE RIGHT!!!” he said, jumping up and down a little.  “I went in and didn’t see anything at all...and as I was pulling out to do the lateral release, I noticed I couldn’t see anything! I’m supposed to see through to the back of your knee, so I poked the mensicus and BOOP! It flipped down and I saw a 2″ diagonal tear!! Needless to say, we fixed it! Here...look at these images! They’re so cool!!!”

That 2″ diagonal tear that never showed up on lab tests is why I’m fighting for a fucking diagnosis, now. I lived for 20 years with a problem that could have been corrected when I was little, had doctors just listened to me--or, at the very least, 10 years earlier when I was 18 and at the specialist’s in college. I even had bronchitis in college, but because I have a ginormous (well, had) lung capacity, they didn’t believe me when I said I couldn’t breathe. Eight. Fucking. Weeks. And I lost some of that lung capacity. Which is terrible when you have aspirations of being an opera singer. 

Doctors, for me, have been shit. Listen to my goddamn stories and do your job and figure out what’s wrong with me. I don’t think that’s asking too much.

[angelikaganz3-blog]

hot hairy ladies - Nine Mesmerizing Examples Of Hot Hairy Pussy Photos

At the time I was close to the best shape Id ever been in, about 59, muscular build with a little bit of chub, around 210 pounds. My time with Kristie (18) took place over the summer between Senior year and College. I met her through a friend and didnt really think too much of her, she was short, big breasts, no ass to speak of but for some reason, and yet I was attracted to her. So I was there, marinating chicken and listening to music over a speaker, dancing my ass off because I like dancing, so what. Any type of action to make work go faster is an action Ill partake in. Fast forward to the next day around noon and I wanted to pursue the friendship with her because like I said, I was attracted to her somewhat and even if it didnt work out I gain a new friend. I followed her on Instagram and hit her up. After I notice her and wave hello I go back to my dancing, not realizing that she was checking me out. " Now I wasnt being serious by any means, I just have a really sarcastic sense of humor and fucking with people makes me happy. Anyways, she comes in and I see her in line and remember her awkward introduction and figured hey, why not try to be friends with her? Youre really good at dancing you know," I preened myself at this compliment, dancing is near and dear to me and to hear it from someone I was interested in really buttered my eggroll. My first time meeting her was when I was at work, I was in the back of the house marinating chicken for the next day (chipotle workers represent), and saw her come in. What do I have to lose from getting another friend? I decided to push the conversation a little bit to gauge how she would feel about a more suggestive tone, "You dont get an ass like mine by just sitting around you know, I worked hard for this work of art," Yet again, almost instantaneous response. If you loved this informative article and you would want to receive much more information about nude hairy pussy pictures assure visit our own web-page. I started with a joking ice-breaker about the night before, "What you saw last night in the restaurant stays in the restaurant, get me? Im texting her while Im getting ready, "You ready for this? Her parents werent home and she wanted to fuck. " "Hell yes," she said, "I need you here now, to feel you inside of me and know that youre going to fuck me senseless is all Ive been able to think about. The rest of the conversation is fairly irrelevant considering the details, but the basic gist of it was "coy" flirting back and forth until we got onto the topic of sex, then we starting talking about it more, blah blah blah, four days later I was getting ready to go to her house. The thing was, I was extremely nervous. "Oh, believe me, I noticed," Let it be noted at this point I was fairly confident in my ability to pull this off, and I wasnt exactly thinking with the right head if you get my meaning. I hadnt gotten laid in awhile and I was a horny 18-year-old, can you blame me? She was into it too - telling me how she was going to suck my dick dry, ride me until I couldnt stand, you get the idea. Saying it over text is one thing, having to go over is another beast entirely. She replied almost instantly, "You got it. " Again, in retrospect, I havent been thinking with the smartest mindset. I get to her house, or what I think is her house. As Im sure most of you can agree with me, over text message its a lot easier to appear as a cucumber-cool (pun intended) sex god or goddess. Spoiler alert, it didnt mellow me out. One of her neighbors had the same exact last name as her, no shit. And I was working it for all I was worth, telling her all of the filthy things I was going to do to her knowing if my mother read them it would bring her to tears. Standing outside the wrong house, eyes red as shit, and probably looking like I was going to throw up. I couldnt even find the doorbell either, so I stood out there looking like a fucking idiot for God knows how long until a middle-aged woman opened the door holding a baby asked atk hairy model directory me why I was standing outside of her house. At the time I smoked a lot of weed, and in my infinite wisdom, I decided it would be a good idea to smoke two bowls to mellow me out on my way over. " "No shit," I said to her, wondering how I got myself into this mess and how I was going to get out of it in one piece. " She yelled at me, "I think youre in the wrong place! I guess God does have a sense of humor, and its fucking sick. " I thanked her and set off up the street, and lo and behold, Kristie was walking towards me in what I think was a crop top and skirt, with a bun hairdo and looking scrumptious. We go straight to her room and she shuts the door. She turns around and moves in for a kiss. " I said nervously, about to shit myself, "I think you need to go down a couple of houses. I saw two outcomes, either I somehow fuck this girl better than shes ever had before, or I make an ass out of myself. Me, being a stoned fuckwad thought she wanted a kiss and tried to hug her. We make it back to her house, just a short walk and its a nice place. "You know Ive wanted to fuck you for awhile right? She looked at me weirdly and I thought I should explain, "I smoked some weed before I came here and Im really nervous. " I did and she got on top of me and started to unbutton my shirt. " "Me too, I havent been able to get fucked well enough in a long time. " This was news to me, with a plethora of self-image issues, I would have never guessed. I more or less told her that I was going to rock her world, etc. None of the guys I try to get with commit to being a dom well enough, and from what youve said to me youre going to be pretty great. " She laughed and said, "Dont worry about it, just go lay on my bed. But before I had a chance to respond, she leaned in and kissed me, and started grinding on my crotch. "I didnt know that actually, but Im glad we talked it out and Im here now. I forgot about my big game talk. 7 on a good day, and you bet your ass Im still self-conscious about it. As shes grinding on my crotch I start feeling around her body to see what Im working with. I was on the wrestling team at the time and I decided to just let myself go and see where this sexcapade would take me, so I flipped her over on her back and started working my pseudo-dom magic. For some reason all the dudes on this subreddit have 2 foot long PVC Pipes for cocks, which I know isnt true, but is still disheartening to read at times, though I digress. Now, a wise man once told me that I shouldnt worry about performing well in the sack, and not to worry about my dick size, because at the end of the day as long as you have fun and go loose then itll be a good time. " "Yes Daddy," she moaned, "Please fuck me. I pinned her arms above her head and growled in her ear, "If either of your hands touches me before I give you permission, youre going to regret it. Like I said, big boobies, small ass, but sexy voice and I dig her hair. I need you inside of me now. " Now in my mind, Im slowly getting into this, biting her ear, neck, you name it. Im not a hung dude by any means, were talking 5. This was the moment of truth though, my exceedingly average sized hammer of Mjolnir was about to come out for the first time, and I needed to make a good impression. She looks down and says nothing about it, was that good? " I slowly slid into her and she moaned loudly. " "Please Daddy fuck me now, I want it, I need it. She wasnt tight, and the condom was tight as hell, which told me I had more stamina than I knew what to do with. I slowly fucked her, listening to her beg for me to fuck her harder. Shed been a good girl. I braced her back with one arm so she couldnt move, and the other was pulling her hair, and I started fucking her for all I was worth. I put the condom on and start to tease her with it. I continued to thrust into her slowly while she moaned softly, both of us spent from the hard fucking we had given one another. I tortured her until I was satisfied. Then I turned her around again, where she was on top of me and I had her lay on top of me with my cock still inside her. We should keep going, let me suck your cock. " she asked me, "No, did you? Now, for all of this girls shortcomings that I would learn in the next few weeks, she remains the best person I have ever received head from, hands down. " I didnt have to be told twice. She did this thing with her tongue that drove me wild, and for some reason, she absolutely loved sucking my balls. I took off the condom, and dont worry, I had more, as she went down on me. I pull her hair harder and she screamed louder and continued to pound her pussy until I couldnt breathe. Nothing wrong in my world right now, my car could have gotten towed and I would not have given a care in the world. Hell yes I do, I just railed you and I cant breathe. After awhile of her sucking me off, she asks if I want some water. She comes in with the water and we both replenish the sweat we expelled during our last session. "FUCK FUCK YES OHMYGODDONTFUCKING STOP YES DADDY" she screams, the dog in the cage out in the living room is barking to high heaven, and Im just getting started. Gotta get ready for round two. I grab her by the throat and bend her over her bed. I fucked into her again and again, without pause and shes going absolutely wild. She left to get the water as I started to evaluate my condition. Shes still drinking her water as I storm over to her, take the cup away from her and put it down. Hickeys on my chest, face red, and dick still hard as a rock. I put on another condom and wasted no time teasing her. On the other hand, it could be completely genuine and I could potentially be fucking this girl within an inch of her life. " Shes screaming, "FUCK THIS SLUTS LITTLE PUSSY! She asked me again, "Did you cum yet? " Now, I dont know about you guys but what shes saying is making me feel kind of strange. " "I wont argue with it. How long had I been gone? "PLEASE KEEP FUCKING ME DADDY! I continued fucking her until yet again I couldnt breathe, and we fell into bed next to hairy women sites each other. It feels scripted, overdone, and not really meaningful. Sure mom, let me just finish fucking this girls brains real quick and Ill be home in two shakes of a lambs tail. Mom is asking if Ill be home for dinner. She needs me to come home. Im making a really good first impression on you for whatever reason. It was a school night and I needed to do homework. When can we get together again? Realistically though I did need to go home naked girls with hairy pussy soon. I didnt know if I wanted to. " "Cant you stay a little longer? "I cant, Im sorry, she wants me home for dinner. " she asks me with hope in her eyes. " "That sounds okay," she said, sounding somewhat defeated. "Im not sure, why dont we play it by ear? "Ill talk to you later," I said as I was walking out to my car. I would fuck Kristie again, a few months down the line against my better judgment, but thats a story for another time. "Give me a kiss before you go. " she asks me as Im putting on my pants. " Woah there miss, I dont know if that was part of the deal, but before I could say anything we had already locked lips and she was tonguing my mouth like she was trying to start a fucking car. This was my first time writing here and any constructive criticism is welcome. Something was telling me this girl was bad news.

[becomingstrong1289]

01/01/2017

Happy New Year. A new start for a happy life. The worst year of my life it over. This year is about me and my babies.

So of course my new years resolution is to lose weight and get fit. My other goal is to work on my money.

1st: My fat ass....I know I'm beautiful. I have a lot of self esteem for myself. I am confident in who I am. There are days I look in the mirror and hate what my body looks like. We all do. I told Shawn that I had two csecs. He seemed shocked. I ask if he saw my scar. He told me he doesn't notice imperfections. I told him I earned that scar and it wasn't an imperfection. It is apart of me. its where I let life out of my body. How could I not love that scar. But I hate my sides. Josh use to tell me how he loved rubbing his hands up my sides. Maybe its just me who hates them. But it is a goal of mine to smooth those out. I remember they came about wh0.en I was about 210. im close. However, this holiday season has put me up some lbs. Im closer to 230 now and I have been closer to 220 for months now. I have inspiration. I have a long distant boy toy to look good for. it would be amazing for him to notice me losing weight. im prolly not gonna see him for about 2 weeks. I can get a lot done in 2 weeks. I know when I fall off the band wagon the thought that flies into my head is they liked me at this weight. they don't care what I weigh. That's not a decent excuse. I want to impress him and make him fall hard for me. like nothing he has felt before. I want to feel good about myself and give him every piece of me worth giving. Self discipline is a beautiful gift to give him in more ways than one. I just want to say that I got my sign today and im listening to the universe. Give me a reason not to be with you and I will take it. I promise. such as constantly texting another woman while hanging out with me. Fuck yourself buddy. im done. im focused now. I got my answer. I know what I want. its not you. I tried. you didn't. none of you tired. this guy gives me everything I could want 70 miles away. incredible. Back to my weight, I love myself, I need to act like it. I need to treat my body well. I watched a movie with ninja people lol and I envied that they got their bodies to their full potential. I want some version on that. I want to be strong. I feel like Im wasting time being fat and weak. I want muscles. I want to jump around and move without restriction. Ashley is somewhat of an inspiration. She did it in such a unhealthy way but she looks amazing and feel amazing. She has confidence and gets compliments. I want that. I want to be healthy. I want to be the epitome of healthy. I want people to look at me and be envious and proud and fucking jealous. I watched a show, they were 400+lbs losing 100 lbs in 60 days. I just want to lose 30 now.  I can fucking do it. I just have to be strong. I can prolly do it alone with diet but I like to exercise too. I need to get to that fucking gym for gods sake. Tomorrow I will be challenged with pizza. It sucks cuz my dad will expect me to chow down.  but I have to be a good person to myself. bring water. no soda. that's the biggest issue over there. add red pepper flake. lots of water tomorrow. fill it up. eggs for breakfast. veggies and fruits all day long and pizza. you can do it. I believe in you 100%. you need to go grocery shopping too.  all healthy things. angie said to work on whats in the freezer. that's a good idea cuz im running out of room. I want to eat half of what I would normally. I fight between wasting food and eating it.. I throw out a lot of left overs. I really shouldn't be so messed up about it. I was thinking for January take a salad plate put what I would normally eat and throw half of it away. I guess I could do that and just put it back in the pot. The half diet. I half to work on my portions. Work makes me fat. Hopefully these bitches stop bringing shit to work and keeping it in front of me. No more drug rep meetings. I almost wrote just eat the salads but I cant. Its like a gate way drug into the rest of it. If they bring the food out into the office im moving it into the coffee room. I cant have it around. my will power is not very strong. I feel it getting weaker and weaker. its horrible and I talk myself into bad decisions or go so fast I don't let my mind think about it. I have the tools, I know what im doing for the most part. I can do it this time. 218 by jan 14. I want to look amazing for him. no mistakes. and if there is an obstacle like the pizza you need to plan for it an prepare like water and spicy stuff to raise your metabolism. I made a tea tonight. Ginger with a lot of other crazy stuff. I like the spicy but I think less of that and more cinnamon will be good too. im gonna look amazing, im going to feel amazing this year is for me. this is when my life gets better. fuck my parents for making fat and leaving me with this mess to pick up. fuck my mom for the initial crazy she left me with and fuck josh for making it worse. Im not crazy, I know what im doing, im mindful, im intentional. im disciplined, im strong, im beautiful, im smart, im talented im mine.  

[everamazingfe]

You Can Ride On My Rocket 69 - Chapter 13

A Song About Hacking And Slashing

Fic Summary: Jeremy has recently awoken in this strange world, 210 ten years after he was put to sleep, and is now the lone survivor from his vault. Trevor's a radio host from Diamond City who's barely left the station, lonely in his own right and isolated from the rest of the Wastes. When they meet, Trevor finally gets a chance to see the rest of the wasteland like he's always wanted, though Jeremy becomes more of his bodyguard than Trevor does his companion. They meet various people along the way, some being friends like the odd throuple they meet in one of the neighboring city, or foe like a certain Diamond City guard. Both are wary about bringing up their pasts, but the wasteland has a strange way of bringing people together.

Chapter Summary:  Geoff helps Jeremy clean up a hell of a mess, Jeremy and Trevor take a detour to Good Neighbor (again), and Gavin starts scheming.

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Words in this chapter: 2832 Pairings: Jeremy/Trevor, Michael/Gavin/Lindsay, Jeremy/Matt Warnings for this chapter: Mentions of blood

Notes: There’s a link to the first chapter of this fic as the source of this post! Click it to go read this fic over on A O 3, or you can search up the title or ‘everamazingfe’ on the site!

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It was hard for Jeremy to ignore the floor around him as he packed up the last of Trevor’s precious cds, but he knew that he wouldn’t want these left behind in case something happened to his trailer. In case anyone found what was inside of it. The thought made him shudder, and he decided then that it was about time he wrap things up. He took the box with him as he left, locking the door up tight. So far, it seemed like the coast was clear, but his luck had been all over the place lately. There was no way of knowing what would happen next.

Back in the Home Plate, things were… Quiet. Trevor was sitting on his bed, staring straight forward as he tried to process everything. There was a lot going on his head, but he couldn’t make sense of any of it. He hadn’t just killed one person, he’d killed two, and that made him twice as bad as the normal person. He didn’t think he was quite as bad as Ian, but he’d still done a terrible thing. A terrible thing that was all too common in the wastes. He didn’t look over at Jeremy as he walked through the door, fumbling the box of discs as he tried to lock it behind him and swearing as they tumbled out of the box and onto the floor. It was when he bent down to pick up the discs that he spotted Trevor, and the look on his face made him abandon the task at hand.

“Trevor?” He asked, frowning in concern as he stepped over the pile to approach him slowly, a hand out in front of him with an open palm in case he got spooked. “Trevor, are you alright?” He’d seen this before, back in the war. It was always the same way, whether they’d joined by choice because of the promised thrills of defending their country or if they’d been drafted and forced to join. When they took their first life, they always had the same look that Trevor had on his: Blank, emotionless, but somehow with a pile of guilt built up behind their eyes as tears streamed down their cheeks. He knelt down in front of the bed, looking up at Trevor as he took his hands in his own. “C’mon, talk to me, buddy. It’s not good to keep all that bottled up.” 

“I killed them,” he whispered finally, after a minute of silence that stretched out all too long. His words hung heavy in the air, and Jeremy could only nod slowly in response. There was no denying it, the mayor and Ian were dead, and it had been Trevor’s hand that had done it. “I thought… I thought I’d be happy, that I’d be relieved to be rid of them, but…” He sighed heavily and shook his head, pulling a hand from Jeremy’s to wipe his face. “I just feel terrible.” 

Jeremy bit his lip, shifting to sit on the bed next to Trevor, wrapping an arm around him and pulling him close. “I know, I know what you mean,” he murmured, hugging him tightly. “But… It fades. Eventually it fades, I promise.” He swallowed hard, scooting back on the bed so he could lean against the wall, bringing Trevor with him. “Sometimes it still comes back full force and haunts you, but… It gets easier to stomach, over time.”

Trevor sniffled softly, resting his head against Jeremy’s chest and curling his fingers in the hem of his shirt. There was still blood on the fabric, but if he closed his eyes, he couldn’t see it and it wouldn’t bother him. “You promise?”

“I promise,” Jeremy whispered, hoping that Trevor knew that he wouldn’t ever lie to him. His squad had put the same amount of trust in him, and he never once let them down. He wasn’t about to let Trevor down, either. “We should get changed and clean up a bit,” he suggested quietly. 

The other man let out a soft sigh, but he didn’t make any attempts to move. Instead, he just held onto his shirt tighter, clinging to him. “Can we stay here for a bit? Please?”

“Yeah, of course… Of course. We can stay here for as long as you’d like.”

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It was later in the same day when Jeremy decided that they couldn’t hide out in the Home Plate forever, and they had to get things cleaned up before anyone happened upon the trailer. Trevor suggested going to Geoff for help, which seemed like the wise thing to do, but he himself couldn’t bring himself to go with Jeremy. It was hard for him to want to do anything, and Jeremy understood. However, he doubted that Geoff would take the news very well without Trevor there to explain it. 

He was right.

Geoff couldn’t believe his ears as Jeremy told him everything that had happened, his eyes wide and mouth hung open. Geneva had her hands over her mouth, her eyes wide with shock as well. When he finally finished talking, all he could do was shout, “You did what?!” 

“I didn’t do anything, Trevor’s the one who shot. It was Trevor.” 

“But you didn’t stop him.” 

Jeremy scoffed in indignation, rolling his eyes. “What the fuck was I gonna do? Ian had a gun to my head, I couldn’t do anything.” 

“You could have stopped him, do you have any idea what that sort of thing does to a kid?” 

“Oh, I have a pretty good idea. I know exactly how badly that sort of thing fucks a kid up, but Trevor’s not a kid. He’s an adult, and he can make his own decisions, and he decided to pull the trigger. That’s not on me.” He’d taken a lot of responsibility for Trevor, and he’d take the fall for him in a heartbeat if anything came of this, but there was nothing he could have done to stop it. And even if there was, he wouldn’t have done it. “I know you just wanna look out for him, and I do too, but… You gotta let him grow up sometime, man. Now, are you gonna help me clean up the mess or not?” 

Geoff let out a long, shaky sigh, not even able to bring himself to look at Jeremy for a long time. He didn’t like being told what to do or how to feel, it felt too much like someone was trying to reprogram him, but he knew that, ultimately, Jeremy was right. Trevor wasn’t the same scared little kid, running around the streets of Diamond City alone anymore. “Fine. Yes. I’ll help. But I better not catch any heat from this, and he better not either.” 

“Don’t worry, nothing’s gonna happen.” He’d made a promise a long time ago that he’d protect Trevor no matter what, and he didn’t intend on breaking it. “If anyone’s gonna be catching any heat, it’ll be me. But I need your help making sure that it doesn’t connect to him in any way. I can’t do this alone, man.”

That was enough reassurance for Geoff, and he motioned for Jeremy to follow him as he walked past him to grab his jacket and his hat. “Geneva, if anyone asks for me, tell ‘em I’ll be back in the morning.”

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Cleaning the trailer was more work than Jeremy had anticipated, mostly because all Geoff did was sit back in Trevor’s chair with his feet on the soundboard and give instructions while Jeremy did all the handiwork. The stench was so bad that he had to put his gasmask on, and it was pretty hard to not throw up while he cut up the bodies and stashed the pieces in duffel bags. There were plenty of feral dogs and super mutants roaming outside the Fens that were looking for an easy meal, it wasn’t going to be hard to get rid of the pieces. The hardest part was going to be getting the duffel bags out of the city itself. 

“Now, I’m gonna finish up here. Blood’s a bitch to get out of all those grooves and you’ve done enough work already. But what do you say if anyone stops you?” Geoff quizzed, adjusting the straps of the bags for Jeremy as he arched an eyebrow at him. 

“That I’m running a delivery for Polly to one of the settlements.” 

“Good. She’s already filled in on the plan, had to buy about a dozen Brahmin steaks I don’t even need to get her to agree to it, but that’s business, I guess,” he laughed, but quieted quickly when the other man didn’t laugh as well and cleared his throat awkwardly. “Grab Trevor on your way out, too. It’ll look weird if you start running jobs without him. Just about the whole city knows you two are a team now, you can’t leave him behind.” 

Jeremy nodded in agreement, hoisting the last duffel bag onto his shoulder and pulling the door open. Had it really been that obvious to everyone? But he figured that it probably was, given that they now shared a home and hardly went out and about without the other, even when they were just grabbing some ramen. “Thanks, Geoff.”

The synth waved a hand to dismiss the gratitude, shaking his head. “I didn’t do this for you, I did it for him. Just keep that in mind.”

“Don’t worry,” Jeremy assured as he stepped out the door and let it shut behind him. “I did it for the same reason.” He didn’t know if Geoff thought he didn’t give a shit about Trevor or if he just didn’t trust him, but he would’ve appreciated just a little bit less hostility about it. They both cared about the guy a lot, it wasn’t a competition.

He sighed heavily as he trudged through Diamond City, the duffel bags weighing him down not just physically, but emotionally as well. There was a lot riding on his ability to get rid of these, but luckily it seemed like no one noticed that something was off quite yet. Part of him wondered what would happen, if the city would descend into chaos without a corrupt mayor and a power-hungry head guard to keep the fear in everyone, or if someone new would step up into both spots without any fuss at all. There was always a spot for himself and Trevor in Good Neighbor if the former happened, at least.

When he reached the Home Plate, Jeremy didn’t go inside. He just knocked on the door and called to the man inside. “Trevor! We got a job to run, c’mon.” There was some noise inside, some shuffling around and clattering, then the door swung open. “C’mon, take a bag. We gotta go make a delivery.” 

Trevor furrowed his eyebrows together, confused because he didn’t think that they were going to be doing jobs for a while, and wasn’t Jeremy supposed to be cleaning up the trailer? After that thought, it only took a few seconds for the pieces to come together, and Jeremy watched as the gears turned in his head. “Alright, yeah,” he said finally, taking the strap that was offered to him and slinging the bag over his shoulder. “Where we going?”

“One of the settlements up north. They’re running low on food, so we’re bringing them some.”

It was all lies and they both knew it, but neither of them let on. They just held their heads high as usual and walked out of the city like nothing was wrong. One of the guards questioned them on their way out, but they were lucky enough that no one asked to look inside the bags. 

Once they were out of earshot of the city, Trevor cleared his throat and spoke up. “We’re not really delivering meat, are we?” he asked, looking at him skeptically. 

“Well, in a way, we are.”

Trevor shook his head, unamused by the little joke. “You know what I mean.”

“No,” he relented, sighing heavily. “We’re not. We’re-”

“- I know what we’re doing. I’m just… I wish I wasn’t involved.”

“I know. But it’d look suspicious if I left the city without you, so this is how it has to be.” Jeremy wished that it could be different, that Trevor didn’t have to be involved, but this was how it was. “I can go the rest of the way on my own, if you wanna find a spot to wait.” He might as well give him an out, there were plenty of safe spots to hunker down until Jeremy was able to dump the bags and go back. 

“No,” he responded, shaking his head again. There was a look in his eyes that Jeremy didn’t quite recognize, but he was glad to see that the guilt was gone. “I started this, I’m gonna finish it.” 

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It’d taken them a few hours to walk far enough out that they could get rid of them without any Diamond City guards being able to happen across them, but it took them half that to go back the other way. Without the duffel bags weighing them down, travel was a lot faster and a lot easier. Or at least it would have been, if they decided to go back to the city right away. Instead, they detoured to their favorite place, Good Neighbor, since they were already mostly there anyway. It’d be a good way to kill time because they were meant to be heading to a settlement way up north, and it’d be impossible for them to get there and back in such a short amount of time. If it was a real trip, encumbered the way they were, they probably wouldn’t get back until the next day. Hell, it may have even taken them longer. 

“Back again, eh? We can’t keep you two away from this place!” Michael laughed as the pair walked through the door, a grin on his face. “But good thing you did, Gav’s got some work for you.”

Jeremy shook his head quickly. “Nah, we’re not looking for work, sorry.” 

One of Michael’s eyebrows shot up, and he hummed. “You sure? It’s a good job.”

“We’re not interested,” Trevor said firmly, and Michael blinked in surprise before putting his hands up, palms open towards him. 

“Okay, okay, jeez. Message received, loud and clear.” He lowered his hands, smoothing out his suit. “Enjoy your drinks, boys.”

The pair nodded back at him and made their way downstairs, and Trevor grinned as the comfortable atmosphere of the Third Rail washed over them. The dim lights, Lindsay’s voice filling the room, the gentle clinking of glasses as Gavin made drinks, and the sweet smell of alcohol made it feel right at home. They took a seat at the bar and the Brit was quick to serve them. 

“What’ll it be tonight?” Jeremy got himself a whiskey, he needed something stronger after the day they’d had, but Trevor just got himself a soda. A Nuka Cherry, because he needed the comfort his favorite soda provided. 

“Hey, Jer, can you… Can you try not to overdo it this time?” Trevor asked softly, and Jeremy paused. “The last few times we’ve been here, either you or the both of us have gotten… Considerably drunk. I just wanna have a nice night with you.”

He swallowed hard, but nodded after a few long moments. The way Trevor was looking at him made it hard to do anything but agree. “I wanna have a nice night with you too, Trev.” Gavin looked between them, a knowing grin on his face as he did, but he wiped it off quickly when Jeremy turned to him. “What?”

“Nothing! Nothing at all.” He was met with skeptical hums, and he simply turned around to serve another patron instead of dignifying them with a response. But Gavin simply wondered if Jeremy and Trevor were the only ones who didn’t see it. The way they looked at each other and talked to each other had a level of fondness that he’d only seen between himself and Lindsay and Michael before, and yet… Nothing happened. Each time they passed through, they seemed to be exactly the same. 

Michael had lost his bet weeks ago, and it was starting to look like Gavin and Lindsay were going to lose theirs soon too. A bet wasn’t fun when no one won, so they needed a little nudge. Would Michael get mad at him for interfering? Probably, but Gavin wasn’t about to lose. He’d have to be careful, though. Jeremy and Trevor both seemed rather skittish, and he didn’t want to ruin things by meddling too much. That was going to be a problem for another day, because they seemed to be enjoying each other’s company too much for him to want to step in quite yet. However, there was always next time.