#fuck lonesome road especially

[awsmedude]

New Vegas is actually really fun when you don't have a New Vegas fan in your ear pretending like it's the only fallout game worth playing

[beentobeetle]

what's six's relationship with the companions? :00

(Ignore me answering this 20 billions years later)

All around, Six’s relationships with all the companions are relatively good, down the line at least! It takes Six quite some time to warm up to people, and he’s naturally a decently quiet person. Most automatically view him as awkward, or intimidating, on something along those lines, especially with his reputation as “That Spooky Courier”.

But getting into specifics! Six’s dynamical change with Arcade and Boone goes hand-in-hand because they’re the first two he travels with, and his personal subconscious favorites. To Arcade, Six is this big stupid maniac who, while trying to be a good person most of the time, goes about it… unique ways. Boone sees him as an idiot, but a strong one. Smart and big when it’s needed. Boone very much appreciates Six’s bouts of silence.

It’s all quite different near the beginning though! Six travels with the two of them at the same time and they are both uh. confused, for the most part, just in different ways. There’s this tension, mostly with Boone and Arcade towards Six, because he’s just so… off. This is before he ever starts taking his helmet off, so he’s just the quiet, faceless wanderer. Unpredictable, vengeful, and fucking terrifying at times. Easiest explanation? Whatever this is

Moving on, though, to Lily! Pretty well-expected, he sees her as his little grandma and is VIOLENTLY protective of her. Buuuttt there’s a very slight sense of ‘selfish’ or ‘wrong’ calculation beneath it. Lily is a nightkin, she’s strong, she can kill. An effective attack dog, when it’s needed. As much as Six values and cares for Lily as her own character, he is well aware that she is a TANK, and… might as well take advantage of that, right?

And then there’s Raul and Cass! Again, the relationship between the three goes pretty hand-in-hand. Six sees them as effective assets and wildly entertaining drinking buddies, even at the beginning. He appreciates Raul’s old-timer, sardonic but just chipper enough grandpa attitude, and very much likes Cass for being, well… Cass.

Aaannd Veronica!! At first, Six sees her as naive and far too in-over-her-head. Over time, though, he notices his shell starting to break. For whatever reason, Veronica is scarily good at cracking the walls Six usually builds around himself. Over time, they develop this really silly brother/sister dynamic.

And, of course, Rex and ED-E. He loves both of them to death. Most any animals automatically melt Six’s heart, and he’s always had a soft spot for robots. And after the events of Lonesome Road? Good lord. That was something that really hit Six, in a way not many situations would. While maybe not entirely true, Six gladly states that Rex and ED-E are his favorites to travel with. “They don’t complain about eating pork-n-beans for a week straight.”

While a couple of these relationships are likely far more complex than I’m putting them, those feel like posts for other days !! But uhhh ty ty for the question, and sorry it took my so long to answer it FJFJDBFJSJD I wanted to actually draw something for it but I’ve been in the weirdest art slump lately… glad i remember how to draw Six!

As always, if anyone has any questions… holds out hands… I’ll try not to answer it after a lifetime….

[falloutliker]

looking through your account all the honest hearts hate and fuck like yeah i remember the first time i played honest hearts i was like "waowh cool" then like a few months later we played it again and was like "oh fuck this is really racist" i feel like honest hearts *has* the materials for a good story (the survivalist) but its mostly relegated to side quests and background stories. the main story of honest hearts is the most boring ass cliched weirdly pro mormon evangilist racist thing and its so weird and out of place in the rest of the game

dead money, old world blues, and lonesome road all have that really strong central theme of holding on to the past etc, and then there's honest hearts....? like.

joshua as a character i think is really important to the game, especially because of how he basically turns "caesar" into "edward sallow" he completely recontextualizes his entire character.

the survivalist is really interesting too cause unless im brainfarting really bad thats one of the most explicit records of any immediate post war things in the game.

i think a story centering more on joshua graham and the survivalist, rather than the conflict between the white legs and the sorrows and dead horses, would be a lot more interesting and thematically relevant to the rest of the dlc and the game as a whole.

the white legs and sorrows are i feel poorly developed, the factions and the characters within them. theyre just sorta boring cliched (and racist) tribal stereotypes which were outdated even by the time the game came out

sorry for rambling in ur askbox we like talking about why honest hearts is disappointing

You're good!

If they were ever to remaster or remake New Vegas in any way, it would probably be a good idea to do away with Honest Hearts... or actually have Native Americans on your writing team if you want to write something about Native Americans. I am not sure what else I can say besides that. Also like, have it so our only option isn't to side with Mormon missionaries. Yeahhh, I'm sure a lot of people could word it better than me; many problems.

[greensagephase]

So I had wrote out a massive paragraph talking about different songs that I hoped might inspire you for Nonviolent Communication regarding Gabriella and Miguel… However, tumblr had other ideas and decided to reload and delete all of my hard work.

So first things first, highly recommend you check out the song Happy/Sad by Nathan Lane featured in the Adams Family Movie where Gomez is singing to Wednesday about growing up because to me it reminds me of how Miguel would react to Gabriella and we all know Miguel is very Gomez coded.

Secondly, because tumblr’s cruelties, I just said fuck it and rather typing out every single song for you to go back and forth listening to I just made a playlist.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/74RQFVEFTmHizHTshKg5dS?si=mFg1O5fHTLy226vYohjnUw

Here is the link to it, I made it especially for you.

Last thing before I go.

Y/N x Miguel especially for NVC…

Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol.

Trust me.

Rue... I'm sitting here first of all, feeling so touched about the playlist!!! As Dr. Doofenshmirtz (Phineas and Ferb) once said, if I had a nickel for every time someone made a music playlist for one of my writing projects, I'd have two nickels, which isn't a lot but it's weird (AWESOME) that it happened twice!!! EEEEEEEE, THANK YOU OMG!!!!!!! You're the second person that's made one for me in almost 10 years (the first being my best friend for an old fanfic back in the wattpad days)!!!

Second... Rue!!!!!! I swear there's only like 13 songs I don't recognize at all, but the rest are in my liked songs already!!! The following songs: - "Isn't She Lovely" - "Your Song" - "Slipping Through My Fingers" (OH MY GOD HOW DID I FORGET ABOUT THIS SONG FOR NC!?!?!?! IT BREAKS MY HEART EVERY TIME, I'M LITERALLY CRYING RN 😭😭) - "Butterfly Fly Away" - "Chiquitita" (no bc how do you know I'm a big fan of ABBA???? I love them and this song!!!) - "Thank You For The Music" - "Tu Sangre en Mi Cuerpo" (girl, you listen to Pepe Aguilar?? I'M SHOOK!!! And now I'm imagining Miguel and Gabby singing this together, brb... gonna go cry again😭) - "Matilda" (no, the way I was listening to this song the other day and thinking about Miguel??? "You can let it go/you can throw a party full of everyone you know/and not invite your family, cause they never showed you love" and "you can start a family who will always show you love/you don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own" tell me this isn't Miguel!! 😭😭I was already thinking of adding this one for a future chapter) - "Beautiful Boy" - "Yellow" - "The Scientist" - "Rivers and Roads"(I heard this one again a few days ago while on shuffle, and I was thinking this would be a good song for NC, hehe!) - "Promise" (this Laufey song always gets me omg) - "Pluto Projector" - "Heart To Heart" (one of my favs by DeMarco) - "Are you Lonesome Tonight?" (one of my fav songs by Presley, period!! Always gets me emotional) - "Ma Belle Evangeline" (The Princess and the Frog is one of my fav princess movies ever (probably the second; it switches with Rapunzel; depends on the day) and I love this song by Ray!!) - "Recuerdame" (YOU CAME STRAIGHT FOR ME WITH THIS ONE AND I WAS THINKING ABOUT ADDING IT BUT THEN DECIDED AGAINST IT BECAUSE I KNEW I WAS GOING TO CRY HARDER IF I DID😭😭😭😭)

these songs literally have me like this rn ⬇️

ALSO NOT "CHASING CARS" PLSSSSSS THAT SONG ALWAYS MAKES ME WANT TO CRY WITHOUT FAILURE - it's nearly 1am and I'm listening to it now and trying not to cry about it (again) AHHHH BUT YOU'RE SO RIGHT - IT'S FITTING!!!

I'm def adding some of these, Rue!!!!! Thank you for making this playlist for me, I'm so happy right now 😭😭 This was so sweet of you!!! Also, I'm sorry Tumblr messed up your post!! I've seen some people complain about tumblr doing that to them, it sucks!!!

But THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU!!! I LOVE THIS PLAYLIST!!!! I hope you're having a wonderful week so far, Rue!!! 💕💕🫶🏼🥹

Alondra❤️

[mrfluke]

mmm fallout oc shit

okeydokey, drank enough to not be having a mental breakdown and i can think (there goes my 30 day sober challenge, thanks genetics) so while i got this brief moment of lucidity ima give a rough timeline of how abe's story is gonna work. FO3 - F:NV - Frontier - FO4 I know that seems weird, but stay with me and the mental gymnasium i've built. Everyone is aware of the poor writing and choices in (supposedly) F3, (especially) F4 and (rightfully) in The Frontier. However, where others have rightfully lambasted them, I in my infinite wisdom and narcissistic ego to make it fucking better, have implemented those factors into Abe's character. Abe is a (undiagnosed) Schizophrenic, partly because he hid it from James (whether it worked or not, James didn't say anything, headcanoning James is also schizophrenic/like Abe in a way) and partly because due to him being numb to it, he got used to it. Fallout 3, while it did happen, is unreliably narrated via being in a semi coma dream, psychosis and the start of Abe's drug abuse in the later half of it. It's left up in the air about how much really happened, apart from the main story beats of the main quest. After F3 and it's dlc, Abe goes to F:NV. Checked the timeline so it's possible he did accidently fuck the divide. F:NV plays out how it usually does (apart from the frontier). Apart from a few bits here and there, I'd say Abe is either mostly lucid during those events, or I'll roleplay him going off the deep end every now and then. I'm planning on wildcard ending, as it feels fitting since FNV has the courier as the joker, as well as I feel like Abe, while he respects Mr.House, would go "Nah. I can do it better" and kill, taking vegas for himself. The Frontier is the most intresting to me, as it has moments with hallucinations, drug trips, and painting the courier as a messiah, something I agree with most defeats the point of the courier. They're meant to be a no name wastelander that somehow gets wrapped up in the events of NV in their search to kill Benny. However, I think it's perfect for Abe. What I'm planning is that Abe stops taking drugs after lonesome road and before the frontier, and in the midst of withdrawals he catches wind of the ncr fuckfaces (i can't be arsed to remember them) and decides to sign up to keep himself busy, earn some caps and try to ween off the drugs. He'll follow the NCR story line, and all it's issues, under non (self) medicated psychosis and withdrawals, which (halfarsed I'll admit) explain away the horrible writing and grand showman ship. Abe is in the midst of going off god knows how much apart from cigarettes, and with everything that's happened so far he's in a midst of a psychotic episode during it due to stress, being the lone wanderer, and seeing what he could do to the Mojave. FO4 Is Abe, 29 years old and clean off drugs, deciding to go on a semi vacation to the commonwealth hunting for vaults and getting caught up in the whole shaun situation after wanting to see where the rabbit hole goes. It's still a work in progress, mostly because modding FO4 makes my blood boil, but once I get that sorted, I'm looking forward to after playing abe through all that, he'll react to everything going on.

[crazysodomite]

okay. owb / lr opinion

Old World Blues:

The sense of humor just wasn't my thing most of the times... It kind of felt like a rick and morty episode especially the household appliances. I just don't enjoy the weird sex jokes !!!!! It felt kind of weird almost the way it was tied to other dlcs seeing how goofy and unserious it is... It felt like a mod sorry. And gameplay-wise it was actually so bad I dreaded going outside of the sink because the enemies were so fucking spongy. No matter what ammo and weapons I use at maxed out lvl and skills every enemy takes sooo long and sooo much ammo to kill that its just not fun. Especially the fucking scorpions that constantly spawn everywhere and ruin everything ITS ANNOYING! I actually really enjoyed some of the challenges especially the stealth one and the one in the school was okay too. But it was ruined by the fucking scorpions. I was honestly expecting something more serious and maybe even scary but I ended up just wanting it to be over asap. Thanks for the player house I guess.... The stealth suit thing is kind of interesting though it eats through my stimpaks too fast and doesn't heal as much as if I used it so I don't really put it on... There's definitely interesting locations and ideas here but the gameplay ruins it for me

Lonesome Road:

I loved it. The gameplay was really good and didn't feel Too frustrating even at the hard parts though I will admit this is probably because I was already stacked by the time I got to the DLC. I wouldn't say it was easy either. I genuinely noticed myself building a strategy and planning to proceed further. I played as a stealth sniper so that made dealing with some of the enemies way easier but there were definitely moments where stealth wasn't an option. I also really loved the commissary thing it was super convenient. Someone said it felt more like an FPS rather than an rpg game and honestly yeah... They're probably right. Not much quests or anything to do here But I still loved it. I also liked the whole 'enemies deploy flares before battle' thing. And I loooved ED-E too. I liked a lot of like... 'cutscenes' Like the animation of the nuke, the animation in the ending room, when ED-E flies away and so on. I also liked that you would get holotapes and stuff from exploring but it wasn't too distracting from the main story.

I do have my gripes with it like the whole 'blow up warheard with a laser' thing was kind of weird. Not Bad but weird. The tunnelers were also kind of weird. I also thought at points the dialogue options were lacking for the courier. And the ED-E sacrifice at the end felt kind of cliche. And Ulysses' voice was distracting at parts to be entirely honest.

I also didn't understand some of the story beats like how I was forced to launch a nuke to proceed? Some of the story was definitely confusing at parts but when it all clicked in the end I was satisfied. And I think Ulysses is an awesome and intriguing character. All in all probably my favorite dlc 😀

[violet-dragongirl]

Alright I got time to explain something.

Yes, fuck the Legion in New Vegas (especially Vulpus and his larpin ass).

But also...

*sigh*

The design of how the Legion was supposed to be more fleshed out instead of out right convincing the player (right from the start if you went through the dialogue) that they're only slave driver larping misogynist asshats with a great logistic strategy and bodies to throw at the dam.

More below the cut cos also I have a Love/Hate relationship for this game and not because it was one of the most annoying games to manually install mods for (I did find a solution to at least make vanilla modding so much faster and easier).

Like...Sawyer wanted that and was denied of making a game that sat between the events of FO3 and FO1 and 2, and had a lot of hard/harsh truths that were deeper than what the game delivered. And of course more that he and the devs wanted to put into the game but were ultimately cut out.

The DLC in ways (particularly Lonesome Road and Dead Money) was supposed to at least open a doorway to those questions with viable answers (along with the fact that Ulysses was also supposed to be a companion that is sympathetic to the Legion). But it did so in a manner at the time that still left so much to be questioned and answered for.

I wasn't expecting a War and Peace novel of the complexities of the harsh truths that the writers and devs tried to flesh out over an 18 month period of development. However, I was expecting something more after Fallout 1 and 2, and to have that press and push the envelope just enough to say that there's more to the post-post apoc ordeal that is the Fallout Universe.

Like the game is already not black n white/cut and dry in its narrative even if that narrative was...still not that great.

With all that said, having known of what it could've been still kinda sucks in ways because now it's burned into my head that the Legion is Just Bad With No Nuanced Explanation.

Wait...back up two feet...

It is nuanced but it's cut short. And unless you take the dive and side with them, you'll see that nuance but again, even with some of the later game dialogue that can sway the player to side with them (I'm more or less thinking of when you get to the strip and a disguised Legion messenger comes up and gives you a letter which will partake in a parlay with Caesar*), and even with how Cass tells you (again, kind of a mid-game event/questline) that she even admits that logistically she'd rather deal with the Legion than the NCR solely because they Get Shit Done and know the logistical, and social contract of Don't Fuck With Your Supply Line...

It's still not enough to give the player pause and see what truly makes the Legion tick in my personal opinion--especially given how it's said in the game that they're a band of many conquered tribes that lived east of the Colorado. So like...

¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯ you're kind of left going Legion Bad.

I still don't like them as a faction, I really don't, but I'm not gonna lie and state that it's never crossed my mind to explore what the game offered as far as siding with the Legion. Maybe I'll do it fully at some point. Emphasis on maybe.

It was already hard enough to deal with the fact that convincing Ulysses to Stop with the whole setting the whole world on fire again was like talking to a giant fire ant that wants to be in an open ended container =\.

The NCR ain't out of this either as they were also supposed to be more nuanced. And in ways they are a more nuanced faction than the Legion in base game/vanilla. The dialogue where the arms dealer at the 188 Trading Post was a clear sign that not everyone was walking the straight and narrow. She had issues with how top brass were ordering her to so something that was more extreme for the reprimand she delivered to them. Along with the fact that greenhorns were 2 weeks out of training and were thrown into the field Just Like That.

Cass is a hardcore NCR sympathizer/patriot. Fine (You're hot Cass, but I'm still docking points girl, they're racketeering cops systematically and seem to be an offset of the Enclave which like...Yikes? Come on Cass think for a second).

But even she sees the issue with this war of the NCR being too spread thin for controlling the hoover damn which can provide electricity and clean water, resources that, yes, ARE very rare given how it's in...you know...a 200 year old post-nuke winter post-apocalypse.

So the game gives the player incentives to dig in further to either or both sides but not enough to really get things to be truly compelling and at the very least, complex enough to be convincing. At least for me. (Not saying they have to convince me and me alone...that'd be dumb.)

In both modded and vanilla playthroughs of the game, as much as I fucked over the NCR (cos I did see them as cops and too close for comfort of feeling like they're Enclave Lite) I also sided with them as far as the whole war between the Bull and the Bear.

Outside of that choice, it was either the Khans, or the Kings. the Followers were...weird so I was always whatever about em.

I never really went into the arc of Jacobstown and the Remnants, partly because before I even got a chance to mod the game, playing on Classic Vanilla and not Fixed Vanilla, the game crashed if I even dared to venture farther beyond the usual main quest route (partly due to save file bloating and easy corruption of the file if it crashed before a save. That and I NEVER trusted the autosave function at all in the game).

And the Brotherhood of Steel…

*Actually thinking it through*...hmm...

Nah…fuck them.

I love you Veronica, you're a neat character, but like...girl your faction is...Not Good Company AT ALL and I'm glad you're aware of that but yeah, hard nope and pass for me still hope it all works for ya :)

I do wish there was more and maybe with the JSawyer overhaul and a few other mods, it can give more, but even then, the inescapable white narrative of it all still...leaves me feeling...meh about the whole game.

With Sawyer wanting a FONV 2 not set directly in New Vegas but in an area in close proximity to New Vegas, well I hope it can get greenlit. At the very least it'll be better to mod manually than the fucking shit I had to deal with (Gamebryo Engine...eugh...I can't imagine how hard it was to work with the engine at the time...well it was an attempt and I see that so still, good on the devs for giving their all...fuck the execs who pushed too hard).

I would get into more of how the game has a good subtle allegory (beyond Dead Money) about Letting Go, and also get into the deets and my opinion about the Honest Hearts DLC but again...for a different time.

*I'm NOT pronouncing his name as Kai-Zar...I don't do that (ㆆ_ㆆ)

[maehem-1]

I'm not going to lie my homeslices bread slices dawgs, I did not like Old World Blues all that much.

I loved the beginning so much. Everything up until meeting the think tank is amazing. It's so mysterious, you wake up in a surgical gown, covered in surgery scars, it's captivating. You explore a small apartment full of nonfunctional machinery. Everything is pristine clean. Then you meet the World's Worst People. The Think Tank's first appearance is so annoying, I almost stopped believing in evolution. It has nothing to do with the length of the dialogue, weirdly enough. It was all just a bit over the top, and usually I'm all for it, but this rubbed me the wrong way. Very abruptly counter to the mysterious tone that came directly before. I will grant that the think tank was more bearable once I talked to each of them individually, and the bit about Gabe's bowl was kinda heartwarming. Straight up telling Borous "you hurt someone you cared about" felt very... Final. I liked it.

The Big Empty is not very interesting to explore, and the main quest is kinda boring. The school test was annoying after a bit. The quest to activate the sink's personality cores was fun for the first 5 minutes, until it just became "follow the quest marker" going back out to places near where I just was was not fun, as I was trying to do this without fast travel.

Then the Sink, (and my brain) The sink calls you sir no matter what, and your brain uses a pretty masculine voice. That one hit me right in the dysphoria, especially the masc brain bit. They both explain why it's like that, and I know out of character they probably just didn't want to record more voice lines than needed, but it still stung. I honestly liked the brains voice once I got over myself. I just wish it wasn't attached to the auditory representation of well, me.

Let's see, I did like quite a few things about OWB. I think my main gripe was that I wasn't expecting it to be so much more comedy focused than the other dlcs.

I liked chatting with Mobius, flirting with the light switches was funny, 💞Muggy💞, I swapped focus from melee and guns to energy weapons for the dlc and discovered how fun those were. Here more than anywhere else in the game it felt like my skills made a difference in dialogue, and I leveled up a lot from that.

Despite being level 40 and most sources saying to start at level 15, combat was challenging. I appreciate that. Except for the scorpions, every fight felt interesting.

I killed the beeg scorpion by getting high off every chem and mag dumping 125 .45 smg rounds into it before it could hit me, that was fun as fuck, 10/10. Dr Mobius also just being high as fuck for his intercom taunts is funny.

Not bad by any means, but probably my least favorite dlc. Now all that remains is the lonesome road...

[patricia-von-arundel]

I've started a class on US history ( particularly around the colonization ) and it's fascinating! Do you have any period you would recommend to look more into?

You picked an interesting time to ask me about US history, through absolutely no fault of your own! (I haven't studied US history since high school, and my AP US History teacher has spent the last 20 or so years in jail for, uh... having relationships with little boys that were 100% NOT OKAY. And I recently found out he's out of prison and has been attempting to track down some of the boys involved [who are all now in their 30s and 40s]. I only know because one is one of my old roommates, and he was dating my best friend, and... well. I saw his name on the list and was just like "okay, this has to be a parole violation of some sort. Also, dude, what the actual fuck?! Several of the boys you hurt later committed suicide. One was found dead by his little sister and her best friend. They were nine. Nine years old. You are a fucking monster. Jesus christ.")

Aside from that... I'm not super well-versed in US history as a whole, but I have enjoyed some books dealing with it, so okay if I mention those? I particularly loved A People's History of the United States (Howard Zinn) and Lies My Teacher Told Me (James Loewen), both of which were seminal in presenting less "whitewashed" versions of US history. I've also enjoyed in recent years The Warmth of Other Suns by Isabel Wilkerson (about the disapora of Black Americans from the Southeast into the Midwest during the 20th century), The American West and Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee, both by Dee Brown (classics of the expansion of settlers into the West in the 19th century, the "cowboy" years), and White Trash by Nancy Isenberg (looking at class in America). Other good, popular writers of US history: David McCullough, Doris Kearns Goodwin, Ron Chernow, Candice Millard. There's some awesome fiction that tackles US history in interesting ways - my favorites are A Tree Grows in Brooklyn (Betty Smith), The Little Friend (Donna Tartt), Forever (Pete Hamill), The Jungle (Upton Sinclair), and basically anything by Steinbeck.

I find the great migration periods particularly interesting, especially the Asian arrivals in the West in the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Early Hollywood is fascinating. There's a wonderful book about it called Silent Stars by Jeanine Basinger. The US also has some honest really good classics in True Crime, especially Truman Capote's In Cold Blood and Norman Mailer's The Executioner's Song. (Truman Capote is also interesting in that he was a very good friend of Harper Lee, who wrote To Kill a Mockingbird.) There were some writers in the mid-20th century who took travel writing and turned it on its head: try Travels with Charley (Steinbeck again!), On the Road (Jack Kerouac - not my personal style, but I understand why it's an American classic!), and Roughing It (Mark Twain). (Honestly, all of Twain's stuff is great, and fucking hilarious. Twain and Wodehouse - in England - had no business being as brilliantly hilarious as they were.)

Also, a weirder rec?

Stephen King's 11/22/63.

Just trust me. And yes, it's that Stephen King.

Again: trust me.

(Other fictional creepiness built around or dealing with North American history [I say North American because I'm including Canada and Mexico]: Alma Katsu's The Hunger, Dan Simmons' The Terror, Silvia Moreno-Garcia's Mexican Gothic [and I just got her Velvet was the Night, but haven't read it yet!], Toni Morrison's Beloved, basically anything by Cormac McCarthy. [Content warning, some of these are a little stomach-churning to get through. Reader beware!] I've also recently been recommended S. Craig Zahler's Westerns, but haven't read them yet, so be warned there that he's the guy who wrote Bone Tomahawk! If you know... you know. If you don't... not recommended viewing while eating. 🤷‍♀️ And speaking of Westerns, Larry McMurtry's Lonesome Dove is absolutely wonderful. And not stomach-churning!)

Hope that helps! If there are any specific periods that catch your interest, I can dig into recommendations for further reading/watching. US history isn't always my personal cup of tea, but my mother's been writing books and articles about it for 30 years, so I can always ask for recs! 😁

[findher-ogg]

You're a lonesome road fan but you think the NCR deliberately nuked The Divide??? Most intelligent Ulysses fan lmao

The whole point of the DLC is that it was an accident. The NCR found an eyebot in Navarro with a symbol similar to the ones found in The Divide. So they sent the eyebot to be studied by their engineers in The Divide, because they had no idea what it did. Unfortunately for them, it was a detonator for the nuclear warheads stored in underground silos. It activated on its own, and blew up the missiles against the silo doors, shaking the ground and stirring up all the trouble with the Tunnelers.

The NCR wanted to annex The Divide, as they want to annex all things under the sun. They never wanted to destroy it, and they certainly didn't want to kill their own people stationed there. Even Ulysses says so "Caesar was right to want it dead. NCR was right to want to rake their claws in it."

Moldaver doesn't doesn't deserve to be compared to fucking Ulysses, especially by a child who has no idea what's even going on in the story.

You have zero media literacy, my guy. Play the DLC again when you're no longer a dumbass 16 year old kid, please.

BABY'S FIRST ANON HATE LETS FUCKING GOOO come off of anon and face me like a man or are you afraid you'd look like a loser for calling a 16 year old a dumbass over a fictional character of all things lmao

1) yes I know that it was an accident. Doesn't negate my point in the slightest. I even acknowledge this in the post! Maybe get some basic reading comprehension before you write a micro-essay to a teenager over one bad post like a loser idk man (Poorly phrased it though, I shouldn't have said "likely" when it was straight up unintentional on their part)

2) do you just really not like Ulysses because this whole post just reads like a hate boner towards Ulysses. I like both Moldaver and Ulysses. They're both cool and both deserve to be pissed off at their circumstances. They're quite justified in being pissed off actually. Both of them. That's the point.

3) never question my media literacy again my friend I've had a reading age well beyond my years since I was 10 years old!! I bet you think the NCR don't suck!!

4) the whole point of the post was that I was trying to say that painting the NCR as boo-boo crybaby victims in this scenario doesn't quite work with the context from Lonesome Road because even if the Divide ending up like that was an accident it's still their fucking fault in the end. No ifs no buts. Most intelligent NCR enjoyer.

[turian]

tbf Karma was a thing from the beginning, and more specifically to 3's handling of it a total fuckup on Bethesda's part - but it does raise questions why Obsidian still closely held on to the system other than pure oversight, especially stuff like the further degrading treatment of the Fiends, or why killing House is considered a certified Evil™ action (and also for that matter it being put back to the forefront in Lonesome Road with the endgame temperament perks).

apologies for a halfway incomprehensible response (sleeplessness is making me inarticulate) but i think that while the game would work better without a karma system, i'm not sure that the karma system itself is really what i'm condemning - kind of like how i dislike most jump scares, but when a jump scare is really earned i enjoy them as a mechanic.

if the karma system was going to be carried over from previous games regardless, i can see a timeline in which a more intelligent karma system was developed (i can't actually see that timeline, i'm not that much of an optimist, but it's probably not impossible to develop a system like this in game and have it be an interesting mechanic, and maybe something of a subversion of itself - i think if i had to figure one out, i'd maybe aim to create something a great deal more cryptic in the interest of giving players pause and having them think about why whatever action they just took garnered that response from the system), or the karma could be blatantly satirical and the game could poke fun at the system. karma, but make it really really cursed and obviously a vault-tec metric? is this anything??? (on a related note, some people in the notes of that post have been suggesting this as a possible interpretation, but i think you really have to squint to make that work and imo it clearly was not what was intended).

new vegas is a very good game in some respects but there are these little areas in which things suddenly get very fucked up and it leaves me wondering (i will try to look into this after i've gotten some sleep, maybe) if this lack of consistency has anything to do with different leads on different aspects of the game and the limited time in which they made it. maybe doubling down was an attempt to do something with a mechanic that they weren't entirely satisfied with. that said, that may err on the side of too much grace. (i do not entirely trust them. honest hearts happened).

but yeah like... i don't think this could possibly have been an oversight - i'm on the karma page on the wiki and i know you mentioned house and the fiends but some of the other shit you gain/lose karma for is truly wild lmfao

the player can be awarded karma for being a bootlicking little rat

(also it's fascinating that killing house is considered evil. that is literally ayndrew ryand, progenitor of the Horrible Libertarian Route That Sucks For Everyone But You LMFAO???? literally so funny of them. camp excellence. camp golf excellence.)

[kittycatherder]

Lonesome Road continues to be a blast that said 1) I love my darling friend ED-E but why did obsiden give you a goofy and fun rapid fire rocket launcher and also make ED-E only have a effectively a melee weapon?

2) oh wow these enemies can be tough especially once you can get into the Courier's Mile… only did remembering and using a bunch of cool combat drugs and food items was I able to finally get thru there

Fuck irradiated Marked Men and Irradiated Deathclaws

Shout out to bottlecap mines, satchel charges, and Paciencia with Steady, Slasher, and Psycho, Better Crticals, and .308 JSP ammo coming in clutch with incredibly long range sneak attack crits

[syrinq]

on 13 february i had a totally awesome dream about ww2 in which people totally did not die. awesome!

so. this dream felt like it was a documentary that i was watching, except my POV was as one of the kids. this documentary was set in holland (presumably....), because it was about a small family living in zaandermeer. this family was brown-haired, except for this one niece of the family's mother. she was one of the youngest, blonde hair, blue eyes, so she stood out from the rest. she was also classified as an aryan because of this.

the rest of the niece's direct family had already been taken, so the niece was in hiding with her brown-haired family. and then, this documentary was about them being discovered and the massacre that followed. great.

the family, at some point, has a house party for unknown indescernible reason, because the family was influential or rich. the house they lived in was relatively well-sized, and standing lonesome on a pretty hill, so it was idk some luxury location. my POV, as one of the kids, is staring outside the window on the 2nd floor, and i see a fuckton of cars parking around the hill and people coming out of them to get into the party. i had a stupid extremely frilly dress on and i didn't want to be at the party whatsoever, but alas, mother said i had to or whatever

so i go down. people are sipping on tea, talking with rich accents, etc. etc. i stand in a corner just eating a cookie or whatever with my other siblings. on the other side of the lounge room to the right, i see an old lady finding a piece of paper. she loudly wonders what it is.

the mother FREAKS THE FUCK OUT, because apparently that was the last thing she forgot to hide away in preparation for the party. she rips it out of the woman's hands, and this was obviously a bad idea as everyone's now suspicious. the old lady reveals she did manage to read the paper's contents, and yells that there's an aryan child in hiding here

mom tells everyone to fucking heel it upstairs. all party members are in panic, most of them are flocking out of the house for safety, others are trying to slow down the mother, siblings, etc.

it doesn't take long for the nazis to arrive, especially since some were -likely- amongst the party guests. they come upstairs, mother has the niece and she hands it to me, as i was apparently 'the fastest kid on the block' and tells me to fucking run. with my cousin in my arms i run down the stairs and go onto the streets, but other cars and forces are arriving on the street and it doesn't take long at all for me to get hit. my cousin is extremely tearfully snatched from my hands, and i'm left immobilised in the grass, as i have to watch her get taken in a car and get driven away

i try to crawl back to the house slowly, hoping that mother and everyone else is still alive. but, as fun dreams go, eventually some tanks and armoured vehicles drive up the road. soldiers with grenades. some armed in the tank.

the house is blasted and there's fire everywhere, and the entire building is pretty much collapsing and i have to witness this outside the fucking grass with no working legs. when they see that mother is still alive and standing, a sniper shoots her, and then they drive off to leave everyone else to burn. fucking. awesome. sigh

[dinopant]

fallouts best dlcs?

Old world blues on top as THE best dlc

Dead Money right behind it as its SO fucking good but the damn sneaking shit is bull

and then Point Lookout because its neat and i love desmond and the mechanic of following up a quest line outside of the dlc area 

[beskar-cowboy]

are you lonesome tonight?

Summary: Deep in New Mexico on an aimless road trip, you meet retired agent Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels one night in a local bar. (6.9k words) read on ao3 here

Pairing: Jack Daniels x f!reader 

Warnings: NSFW, smut, angst, smoking, drinking, age gap (difference not specified), oral (f receiving), minimal plot for the western vibes, feelings if you squint, praise AND dirty talk cause it’s Jack Fuckin’ Daniels

Jack doesn’t usually stray away from home like this. It’s not like him to wander, to willingly get lost, in his mind, and now in the desert.

Step away from the job. Go home Whiskey, they had told him, you need to relax.

He is getting old. His back gets sore easily now, aches more often - especially after a mission.

Maybe they’re right. Maybe he does need to stop, slow down, smell the fuckin’ roses for once.

So he heads West. For whatever reason.

He doesn’t know where he’s going - he doesn’t think he ever did, certainly not after losing her… and their unborn child - but now he’s really, purposefully lost, headed towards some unknown, unseen beacon - he’s pulled towards it like a siren song.

Maybe this’ll make him relax.

***

You’re outside Amarillo, you know that for certain. But you can’t remember passing the stateline, out of Texas and into New Mexico.

You know you passed it, you must have, you must be in New Mexico by now but when you think about it really hard you think you might still be in Texas.

It’s flat out here, not a lot of mountains - everything looks the same, it makes driving tedious and tiresome. The green hue of the dashboard clock reads midnight and you think it’s time to pull over for the night.

You come up on a town, the billboard reads San Jon. Bright lights in the distance spell out ‘motel’ and fuck it, thats good enough for you.

The parking lot is lonesome. There’s a bar across the street - it’s too enticing. You think you might as well get something to drink, calm your mind before you tuck in for the night.

The lights are warm inside, dim and inviting - something you weren't expecting in a place like this but you sigh a breath of relief when you sit yourself down at the quiet bar.

Quiet music and even quieter chatter fills the room, you feel out of place but not uncomfortable. You just want one drink, maybe two, then you’ll head up to the motel and pass the fuck out before you start driving again tomorrow. Easy. Simple.

The bartender makes his way over to you, a much older man with white hair, a sweet face. His southern twang is sort of cute when he asks you what you’d like.

“Jack and coke, please.” You smile. He nods politely.

There’s only one other man sitting at the bar, at the complete opposite end of it compared to you. You make brief eye contact with him - he’s handsome, it’s awkward.

He wears an old fashion cowboy hat - tacky, you think. He’s got a dark, strong mustache, deep eyes. He’s pretty.

He smiles at you but you’ve already turned away, far too tired and too easily flustered for… that.

The bartender returns promptly with your drink and you hand him a few bills, really set on only having one drink tonight but he shakes his head.

“Already paid for, sugar.”

Fucking perfect.

You can already feel him moving towards you, already feel the way his words will grate against your ears, send your stomach churning and the superficial attraction you might have felt from one quick glance dissipating completely.

He sits down next to you and the barstool squeaks with age. You visibly cringe.

“Did I come over too fast?” Voice like honey, it’s sickeningly smooth. He’s a sweet talker type, you already know it.

You roll your eyes, taking a sip of your drink.

He gets comfy in his seat, watching the way your throat bobs with the cold alcohol.

Jack and coke, a funny choice, he thinks to himself. A damn funny coincidence.

“It’s hard - startin’ a pretty conversation with a pretty lady.” He says and you audibly scoff as you down your drink.

Ew, old man’s clearly out of practice.

“And I guess I’m off to a rough start, aren’t I?” He chuckles, enjoying the struggle it seems.

You scoff again, speaking quietly “I’ll say.”

Jack smiles to himself, pleased that he’s managed to entice you enough to weasel out a snarky little comment. He likes this little attitude of yours.

His sharp tongue flicks against the inside of his mouth as he shoots out a whistle. You snap your head in his direction, ready to berate him, ready to slap him in his face for whistling at you but he’s turned away towards the other side of the bar, trying to get the bartender’s attention.

He’s cocky, too loud, too confident. You hate it - you can feel him overcompensating for something.

You take another swig of your drink as you glance at his side profile, fighting the urge to knock off his stupid fucking cowboy hat that hides so much of his face in a shadow thats too dark for this warm bar.

Cowboy’s got a scar running down the back of his neck, your eyes can’t help but follow it down, down, down until it’s cut off by the leather of his jacket. It’s whiter than the rest of his tanned skin, but it doesn’t look fresh. It looks more like an old wound, white and raised with time.

His head turns back, eyes catching yours and you nearly choke on your drink. Fuck are his eyes deep. He smiles like he notices the slight hitch in your throat, the way your chest heaves on an inhale while you awkwardly swallow down your drink.

“Name’s Jack.” He smiles, something tooth-rotting-ly sweet.

Jack - his butter sweet voice rings in your ears and bubbles in your tummy and leaves a sour taste in your mouth. You chase it with your drink.

You don’t offer him your name in return - he takes it in stride.

“You a long ways from home?” He presses all too casually, his own drink being placed down in front of him.

You don’t answer, you just swirl the drink around in your glass, watching the ice cubes melt with every second that passes. Jack grows awkward, he fidgets in his chair and takes another swig from his shallow glass, letting the alcohol burn on its way down.

“Come on, where ya from, darlin’?”

“Nowhere.” You grumble, nervously twisting in your own chair, letting the squeaking become louder than your own voice.

Maybe he’ll leave you alone if you keep curving him, maybe then he’ll get the message. Men aren’t always so good at that.

The old cowboy laughs with his chest, nothing too loud, just amused - it makes your cheeks hot. He reaches into his coat pocket, pulling out a carton of cigarettes. He smiles as he opens them, placing one between his lips before looking at you inquisitively, offering you one. You look away.

He takes an exaggeratedly long drag, making a real show of it, “Nowhere,” he repeats, “how poetic of you.”

Smoke spills from between his parted lips and out his nose, it’s all too mesmerizing.

“Like you go around telling strangers where you’re from.” You scoff, keeping your voice low out of disinterest.

The sweet scent of his tobacco warms your chest and - oh fuck off, it’s just the alcohol.

“Jackson, Tennessee.” He smiles, all shiny and proud as he holds his cigarette between two calloused fingers and gripping his drink with the others, taking another swig. You do the same.

You weren’t expecting him to answer, but he could just as well be lying. Men lie, men lie, men lie, he has less to worry about than you, you have to remind yourself. Men lie all the time - it’s easy for them.

“Well, aren't you a long ways from home?” You sneer, a mean smile pulling at those goddamn lips of yours. You mirror his words from before, Jack doesn’t miss the fact that you remembered them.

“Could say the same about yourself.” He smiles, something soft and quiet.

Jack can always tell when someone’s out of place, when they’re unfamiliar with their surroundings, trying to constantly find a way to ground themselves, feel secure, safe, root themselves into something so they don’t blow away from the sheer force of the land. He got way too good at that at Statesma-

No. He’s here to forget that.

You don’t answer him, either way, your lack of an answer is answer enough for the old cowboy. You roll your eyes, taking another swig from your quickly depleting drink.

Jack seems to notice, he calls the bartender over again and you try to tell him no, but he insists that it’s on me, girl.

You sigh, too easily defeated and - embarrassingly - needing another drink. You’ll sleep better with a second, your sleep will be dreamless with a second, you tell yourself.

“Same thing, please.” You ask the bartender quietly, near bashful.

Jack smiles at you while you order, you notice it from the corner of your eye and it makes you tick, makes your leg bounce up and down with unkempt nerves and you wish you could just get up and leave but you really want that second drink now.

You definitely do not want to see how far this will go, how far he’ll push you. No, no, no it’s not that, it’s definitely not that, he’s just some small town, honky tonk, old fucking-

“I know you.” He smiles and your stomach drops, heart pounding.

“What?” You ask, too harsh, too sharp.

Sore spot there - Jack makes a mental note to stay away from whatever that is.

“I said, I know you.” He repeats against his own judgement.

You stare blankly, trying to think of where he could possibly know you from. You’d remember his face if you’d seen it before, you’d remember him.

“Yeah,” He says around a chuckle, cheeks sucking in as he inhales the smoke, shooting it back out through his nose, “I know you, you’re uh, a cowboy.”

You laugh, you laugh so hard you nearly snort out your drink through your nose. You laugh so hard even the bartender turns his head. Jack can tell it's not friendly, it's a laugh that's meant to ward off strangers, meant to belittle him, make fun.

Too bad he likes it.

He knows you mean to shoot daggers right through him and scare him away but stupid old Jack thinks he’s never heard a sound so sweet.

“A cowboy?” You repeat through a laugh, your nerves dissipating.

His way of talking makes your stomach get all fluttery, makes your face hot and your cheeks start to go numb. Or maybe it's the alcohol, probably the alcohol.

“Yup,” he nods, “A cowboy indeed. A bandit, some might say.”

You laugh again and he smiles back. He’s not entirely wrong.

You have your reasons for running into the desert. You have your own people you hide from, your own things you hunt for.

There is a reason you’re out here, all too far from home, lost in the desert, purposefully losing yourself - things you’re trying to forget.

Maybe Jack knows those things too.

His eyes are warm, soft things that stare too deeply into your own. It’s too late at night for those types of looks, he’s treading on dangerous territory and he knows it, you know it.

But the night grows darker and so do your eyes. Eventually you stop pushing him away as your drink settles in your gut - something like liquid courage burns through you and makes you feel bright and stupid and giddy despite the creeping darkness.

“A bandit.” You repeat, laughing and shaking your head.

Jack’s cigarette smoke has turned sweet, enticing and warm. Everything about him is warm, how can a stranger be so warm? You feel like you’re subconsciously leaning into him - a moth to the flame. Helpless, lost, in need of some sort of waypoint and he’s the brightest thing in the sky with those white fucking teeth of his.

So you let him talk and damn that mouth of his, you don’t think this man ever shuts up. He talks a big game, an obvious flirt - a bad one - but he tries nonetheless and it makes you nervous, like a dog before a storm.

You guess he can’t be all that bad if he’s got you so silently flustered, face hot and thighs aimlessly rubbing against the other. Something is building inside and it scares you.  

He’s handsome - that’s indisputable - you recognized it from the moment you saw him from across the bar.

Jack is good looking, way too handsome to be out here in some dingy bar, throwing corny pickup line after corny pickup line at you like he doesn’t have years of practice over you, like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

“What are you even doing here?” You blurt out, your lips loose and soft - you couldn’t have held in your burning question even if you tried. Jack smiles, admiring his third or fourth glass of dark liquor instead of looking at you.

Why do you look so lonely? Jack thinks.

“My job, they uh, thought it’d be good fer me to… get out of the office.” He says instead.

You hum, understanding and eyeing the way his eyes look somber even though he continuously smiles.

“Their idea of forced retirement I think.” Jack chuckles sadly.

“Retirement?” You say, astonished. How old is this guy?

Jack nods his head. “Retirement comes early in my line of work, sweet pea.”

You pause. Absorbing that information. And the nickname. You wonder what he does, or did, for a living. For some reason you’re afraid to ask.

Your belly flutters - he’s let something loose in you, something you tried to drown long ago but arises simply and stupidly at the use of a term of endearment. You’re not used to this sort of attention.

Not aware you had been staring, Jack shuffles awkwardly in his chair, becoming flustered himself.

“Now, don’t go lookin’ at me like that darlin’.”

“L-Like what?” You scoff, looking back down at your own drink, away from him.

“Like I’m some old man.”

Your heart clenches. Something else does too.

“Are you not?” You poke.

Jack chuckles. “Guess I’m damn well old enough for my back to be hurtin’ like this.” He groans, arching his back, flexing his arms to deepen the stretch.

His biceps pull the fabric of his jacket incredibly tight while the white of his t-shirt rides up over the softness of his gut.

More tanned skin - he’s not incredibly toned, you find yourself not minding that. You think you like it actually, it makes more sense on him, makes more sense that he’s secretly soft.

It’s almost… endearing. Fuck.

You look away quickly, taking another swig of the harsh liquor that hardly burns on its way down anymore.

“You book a room at the motel?” He asks, pointing behind you, in the direction of the motel across the street.

“Not yet.” You answer tentatively, shooting silent daggers through him at his promiscuous question.

It’s his way of asking, and you don’t tell him no. You both acknowledge it.

It goes quiet between the two of you for the first time tonight - other than when he first approached you.

You only notice the music playing softly in the background now - something homey and painfully southern. Jack seems to notice it too.

“Wanna dance?” He asks, smiling. You burn.

Your eyes dart from his to the cigarette pack still laying on the bar. You want one, you want to dance but… but not with him.

That’s what you tell yourself.

The longer the song plays, the more your head feels all loopy. You need a cigarette. It’s been ages since he offered you one - maybe hours - but you sort of just want to take one to get him talking again. You can’t handle this awkward silence.

You don’t want him to leave. You don’t want to bore him - you don’t know why.

So you sneak your hand towards the pack and slide one out, placing it between your lips and lighting it up yourself before giving him back his lighter. You stand from your seat and Jack watches with wide eyes, mindlessly finding the pocket on his leather jacket and dropping the lighter in it - all the while watching you walk away from him.

The smoke burns your throat, stings your eyes but you inhale deeply, welcoming the headrush.

You walk out onto the floor, it’s not a dance floor, but you don’t plan on dancing. You don’t. You don’t.  

But the song comes to you, you let the cigarette dangle between your lips and your arms go up above your head. You sway - you dance and you don’t look at Jack even though you know he’s staring, you know every lonely man in this place is.

Jack stands, slowly approaching you, tentatively, with his tail between his legs in submission, like a sorry old dog. You feel his body near yours before you see it, you think your eyes are closed, maybe it’s just really dark in here.

“Can I?” He asks, one hand skimming your hip, barely touching you. Your flesh burns under his touch - you think you need it.

You nod your head, grabbing his other hand and placing it on your hip.

Jack nearly cradles you to his chest, unafraid of wrapping his arms around you and holding you so fucking close - too close. You feel like you could suffocate.

You wedge your cigarette between two fingers before bringing your own arms around his neck, putting in just as much effort into holding him close.

And you just stay like that for however long you do - holding each other and not saying a word.

It makes sense, for whatever reason. Makes sense to have him holding you like this, his unfamiliar body feeling so fucking good and warm pressed up against yours, holding you in his strong arms, swaying you along with him.

He smells like pine, leather and something burnt, smokey - it gives you a head rush stronger than the fucking cigarette. He smells so good, feels so good - you squish yourself to him, something prickling at your eyes and fuck, aren’t you a sorry sight? Crying in the arms of a stranger.

“Don’t kiss me goodbye.” You whisper. Jack leans in closer to you, nudging his head with yours and you feel his lips ghost along the side of your face, mustache rasping against your soft skin.

“Whatd’ya mean, pretty girl?” He grits, voice gone all deep and dark and quiet. You quiver in his arms, clenching for it already.

“Tomorrow morning… don’t kiss me goodbye, okay?”

Your bodies stop moving and you let your hands fall into his. He seems to have gotten it now - as he rushes you to the door of the bar, out into the cool air of the desert night and towards the motel across the street.

It hits you like a wall, the fresh air. Enough to make the alcohol dissipate in your system and the smoke from your eyes. You drop the stub end of your cigarette onto the asphalt and kill it with the heel of your boot.

Fuck do you want him. Even out here, even with fresh air filtering out the smoky haze. You can see him more clearly now, see him for what he is; a stranger, a man you don’t know - an older man and fuck it you want him. You still want him.

“I’ve never done this before.” You blurt and he turns around, squeezing your hand tight in his, almost in a panic.

“Are you-”

“No, not like that, I mean- I just meant I’ve never slept with someone I… that I just met.” You stumble like a damn fool, trip over your words and you worry you fucked it all up.

You worry he’ll realize he’s too old for you, too tired, too fed up with this fucking life of his and leave you on the side of the highway and when the fuck did you become so hung up on this stranger. You hate it - you decide you hate him. You hate Jack.

But the old cowboy laughs. He laughs and comes up real close to you again and his face shines in the neon light of the motel sign. He’s so close but he doesn’t touch you, not quite.

“Well, that makes you the best of us.” He smiles, eyes all squinty and dark.

“Jack,” You practically purr and he melts on the spot, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

It’s the first time you’ve said his name all night. His face twitches at the way your lips and tongue curl around the four letters, the way you practically breathed it like it was the most natural thing ever. Jack watches you melt as he places his hand on your cheek, as he cups your face in his much larger hand. You go into it too instinctually.

He’s so warm and it’s so cold out here in the desert.

“Sshh, pretty girl,” he purrs back at you, cutting you off with soft mouth sounds and pulling you close. Your breath hitches in your throat as your chests bump. He leans down and nudges his strong nose against your own.

“I’m just teasin’ ya.” He smiles one final time before pressing his lips to yours.

***

Jack kisses you like it’s nothing. Like it’s the easiest thing he’s ever done, like he’s done it before, countless times actually. Like he knows the way your lips would glide against his, the way his mustache would grate at your skin but it makes you that much more desperate for him.

Jack kisses you like he knows you, like he’s known you, like is the best thing and the only thing he’s good at and you moan against his mouth - you can’t help it; you’ve never been kissed like this before.

Both of your clothes are scattered throughout his room, the inside of your thighs still burn with the leftover, minute grate of his mustache but it’s somewhat soothed now - with your slick coating both of your lower halves, more spilling out of you as Jack pulls orgasm after orgasm from you with too much ease. He’s too good at this, too good at fucking you.

Like he knows you.

“Jack-” You moan, voice broken and hoarse and punched out of you by his cock in your belly.

He’s got you on your knees, face down, smushed in the pillows as he plows into you from behind, hands warm and soft and strong and bruising on your hips, pulling you into him again and again as you wail helplessly into the muffling fabric.

“Fuck thats- that’s so good.” You cry, hands fisting the sheets, desperate to anchor yourself to something.

Jack hums something content, proud. He’s been giving it to you like this for an hour now, maybe more, you don’t know anymore. Everything’s begun to blend together except the harsh, unforgiving spearing of his thick cock in your slick, velvety heat.

He had begged for it, you told him he didn’t have to, didn’t have to go down on you because guys didn’t always like that but he asked so nicely. And who were you to deny this old cowboy of a good meal anyways?

He wanted it, wanted it so bad and he watched the way you swallowed his fat fingers, the way you cried and arched into him, swivelling your hips to let him fuck you better and he licked up everything you gave him - pleading with you for another one, another orgasm.

“Perfect lil’pussy, so fucking good - such a good girl, lettin’ me have you like this,” he had praised you and you weeped as his tongue lapped through your folds, as he properly ate you, drank from you like he was fucking starving.

His twang had gotten thicker, his voice dropping multiple octaves and it did nothing but make you thirstier for him - bled you dry like the surrounding desert.

Jack pummels into you without relent, body bending over yours to fuck down into you and you sob helplessly into the pillow, fingers going pale from how desperately you try to latch onto something, anything.

You scramble underneath him but he pins you down with the sheer force of him and sweet words and you melt back into place, desperate for him to call you a good girl one more time, please Jack, I’ll be so good I-I promise, please.

***

You weren’t expecting anything - not from him, not from the situation. He could’ve just finished on your stomach, on your back, your ass, inside of you for all you care - rolled over, reached for his cigarette pack and that be it. You would have gotten up, got dressed, and gone downstairs to get your own room. That’s what you were planning on doing.

But Jack didn’t cum, maybe he wasn’t done with you quite yet.

He lit up a cigarette, took one long drag, chest expanding erratically, still trying to catch his breath, stretching scratched up ribs as he offered you a shower.

He tells you he’ll join you in a second, probably just wants to finish his cigarette but you momentarily think he’ll get up and leave you alone to find his own room. Either way, it makes no real difference to you - you head for the shower.

You keep the lights off, not wanting them to blind you, wake you up from this dream state. The moonlight comes in through the small window in the shower, you decide it’s enough for you.

You turn the water coolish, enough to calm down a bit but not too much to freeze. You step in and let it cool and soothe your sex hot skin.

You wash away the mess between your legs, most of it your own slick and maybe Jack’s saliva, buried deep inside of you still from how thoroughly he had fucked you, pushing it deeper and deeper. You whine a little at the thought.

The bathroom door creaks and Jack smiles at the sight - you, standing underneath the steady stream, having not bothered to draw the curtain - you left it open for him.

You feel different now, almost embarrassed at him observing you like this even though he had just stared into the depths of your gaping cunt for the past hour or so.

“Hi, gorgeous.” He says all suave, like how he had spoken back in that quiet bar.

“Hi.” You squeak back, feeling so unlike yourself, so not brave like you had been earlier.

You think he’s the gorgeous one. Sweat damp hair, curling around the frame of his face - flushed cheeks, tanned, marvelous skin. You can see his scars more clearly now, see how they wrap around so much of his skin, paler in comparison to his golden body.  

Early retirement, he had said. What did that mean, what did he do?

His cock hangs between his strong thighs, below his thin waist. He’s still hard. Your breath hitches in your throat at the sight.

You catch his eyes, they’re dark, still hungry and starved and you back up to make room for him in the modestly sized shower. There’s enough room for two, but he still comes to be pressed right up against you.

He’s quiet - you both are as you just sort of stare at the other. You don’t know what time it is, the night outside has gone pitch black and you’ve lost any sense of time, almost forgotten what state you’re in. Was it Texas or New Mexico? Maybe you made it out to Nevada...

Jack’s fingers find your waist, just resting there, trailing tentatively - like he’s checking that this is okay, that you’re comfortable even after fucking you into the matress for the past couple of hours.

You hum, appreciative of the cool water in contrast with his large, warm, southbound hand.

His fingers glide through your glossy folds, your leftover arousal clear and distinct from the water - it’s thick, slippery, Jack can smell it seeping from you.

You arch into his touch willingly, leaning back against the cool tiles of the shower, gasping at the sting and canting your hips up into his touch, presenting yourself to him.

Jack smiles, wicked, evil. You’ve become so easy, open for him. He’s more than appreciative, less than deserving.

He doesn’t know what he did to make you bend to his will like this, he knows he’s got experience, he knows he’s got years on you but why did he deserve this, why? What did he do?

Jack doesn’t believe in karma, never has, never will. But he touches you like he’s known your body, and you both gasp and breathe into the other's mouth, sharing your oxygen amongst the cool pitter patter of the shower and you begin to fall apart on his fingers again.

He glides two fingers into your sore cunt, stuffing you full of him again and you moan something broken, sucking in his fingers greedily and Jack groans at the snug fit and Christ, how had he managed to fit his cock in there, how did you take him over and over again? Two fingers feels like too much for you yet you whine and buck into it.

Jack grinds his fingers into you, pleading with you to cum, cum fer me, just like this, sweet girl. Can you do that fer me? Can you let me feel it?

“Yeah, Jack- fuck.”

It’s so much. His fingers are thick, wide things and you can feel how he stretches you with them, scissors them to make room for his cock which bobs and twitches against your thigh. He’s so fucking hard, you’re desperate to feel him inside you again, you need it you need it you need it-  

“N-Need it, please.” You whisper, head foggy and glazed over with arousal, with want for this man.

Your nails dig into his biceps, both of them flexed hard - one hand digging around in your cunt, carving you out while the other keeps you steady, tucked under your arm and wrapped around your back, pressing you between him and the wall. You’re cornered, you’re done for.

“Jack-”

“That’s it, baby, that’s it.” He coos, voice gone soft and drippy like honey and you’re gone.

You squeeze his fingers tight, suffocate them, clenching around him like you’ve known nothing else and you cum on his fingers, soaking him and collapsing forward as you tremble in his embrace.

Jack leans back slightly, shifting his weight to accept yours. Your arms curl in between your bodies, as if shielding yourself and his go down, along your body to cage you against him, hands coming down to grope your ass.

He pulls at the soft, pliable flesh, growling in your ear as you still come down from your high. With sticky fingers, his hand comes down onto your ass, striking the flesh and feeling it jiggle back into place. You jolt into him, crying out at the harsh sting and Jack’s gone feral, needing to consume you again.

“Get back into bed.” He orders.

“Jack I’m still, I’m-” Drenched, soaking from the shower.

“I don’t care, girl,” He growls, teeth nipping at your ear lobe. “I want you wet.”

You laugh breathlessly, overwhelmed by his need for you yet needing to satisfy your own.

You lazily kiss at his neck before pulling yourself from his arms, dripping as you step out of the shower and onto the tile floor of the bathroom. You look back at him to find him watching you with careful eyes, surveying your every move. You turn back and head for the bed.

Tile turns to old carpet, you cringe as you soak it with each step. You launch yourself onto the bed, laying on your back - your cool skin pebbles in contrast to the warm desert air of the motel room.

Jack emerges from the doorway, body strong, lean but soft and pudgy - he looks like a fucking statue and you nearly lose your breath.

He stalks to the side of the bed, sitting down near your head. His broad shoulders and back are to you but he turns - hand coming to cradle your cheek as he looks at you over his shoulder. It’s far too tender of a look for what he’s about to ask of you.

“Will you let me try somethin’?”

“Yeah, Jack.” You say with such trust in your voice - a trust he doesn’t deserve.

Like you’ve known him, like you’ve been lovers.

Reaching for his worn jeans, Jack leans down and pulls a handle from the waist band, something you hadn’t noticed till now, something dark and long.

He keeps pulling - a whip, lasso, something like that.

Your body responds immediately, hips arching into nothing and goosebumps erupting across your flesh at the mere suggestion.

Jack’s no idiot - he sees the way your eyes go dark - swallowed up by the eclipse of your blown out pupils. He sees it, can fucking smell it leaking from you from where he stands.

“Yeah?” He asks again, making sure.

You nod with doe eyes.

Jack climbs back on top of the messy bed, coming near to your body and you need him, need him to use you. “Let me hear ya say it, sweet girl.”

“I want it, please.” You say too quickly and he smiles.

He yanks your arms above your head, stretching you all nice and long for him. He takes your hands in his and makes you hold onto the bar of the old bed frame - you keep them there. He rounds up the lasso in his hands and you whine, back arching into his body which looms wide and strong over yours, waiting, desperate and wanting.

Jack traces the strong rope across your body, along your stomach and you curl into it, writhing as it leaves a trail of goosebumps, raised and tender flesh in its wake.

“W-Where’d you get it?” You whisper again, asking in a voice so small and curious it makes his cock twitch. Jack smiles, pleased.

“Souvenir from work.”  

Jack suddenly whips the lasso and you gasp in shock as it burns like fire across skin - your wrists bound in place, to the bed frame with almost no effort on his part.

Jack smiles, pleased with his handiwork.

He wants to know you like he knows the back of his hand.

***

Legs bent up high, knees pressing into your breasts, you’ve been thoroughly fucked numb. But Jack is relentless.

You’re wet and sticky and tired from it all, strung out thin and exposed like a live wire, burnt raw and tender. You can take no more, you’re not sure Jack can either - but neither of you stop, neither of you want to.

He’s removed the lasso from your wrists, having been desperate to feel you cling to him, scratch him up and remind him that he’s real, that this is real.

Jack’s sweet to you near the end, when he’s cum two or three times and you six or eight - you don’t know anymore, you’ve lost track of everything.

He’s so sweet and tender and just fucking kind to you. Lips pressed tightly to your skin, mustache rasping against your skin, Jack whispers your praises like he’s scared someone will come and rip him from you, like he’ll never see you again - you try not to think about it.

Try not to think about how sentimental you’ve become over this old cowboy in mere hours. It’s embarrassing. But you find it hard to care when he’s fucked you dumb like this.

You’re too sweet to me girl, too fuckin’ sweet I can’t- I can’t-

You’re doin’ so good, so good baby I- Jesus fuck don’t squeeze me like that you’ll make me fuckin’ cum and this- this can’t be over, not yet

Jack-

Just a lil longer, just let me fuck you a lil longer, okay?

T-Too much

Ssshh, I know you can take it. Know you can take it like a big girl.

I’ll eat you out as long as you like, I’ll make it so fuckin’ good for you, just- just let me fuck you, please

He’s babbling, long past the point of coherence - Jack Daniels is lost in your glossy, sticky cunt.

The hotel room is humid, it smells like sweat and sex and cum and something far too sweet to be growing between the two of you - two strangers.

But Jack keeps going. You go with it - you follow him to the end.

You keep going until something looms over the horizon, something threatening to spill over. Like some sort of feeling, emotion, revelation about the two of you, your two old souls or maybe it was just the fucking sun painting the lonely desert in all its glory but Jack cums inside of you one final time and you both collapse onto one another.

You’re wet, sticky from sweat and slick alike. Your limbs rendered useless and numb but you can feel his weight on top of you, keeping you in check like a paperweight.

The lobby downstairs has long since closed, there’s no use in you leaving now.

So you fall asleep with Jack in your arms, cradled to your chest as he presses whispers of praises and kisses into your delicate, bruised flesh. He presses them in between your breasts so that maybe it seeps into something tender and fleshy and bloody like your heart.

***

The sun is harsh, brutal beating down on you and Jack in the middle of the bar’s parking lot. The bartender from last night is opening up for the day, he spares you two a sideways glance before disappearing behind the blackness of the door.

“Where ya headed now, girl?” Jack asks, shades covering his eyes, hat in his hands. He fiddles with it, toys with the worn and loved rim. He’s nervous.

He wanted to fuck you again when the sun rose up.

Your skin glowed, you looked so soft, so fucking pliable to his rough hands and he wanted to bite, suck, kiss, devour you. He wanted to carve himself into you and never fucking leave that bed.

But you rolled into him, a sleep heavy sigh pushed out of your nose and you pushed your face into his neck - unconsciously breathing him in. Jack felt you relax against his body, settling just that much further into sleep, trusting him to hold you through it.

He nearly choked on the thought, nearly died right there from how fucking precious you are.

Jack decided against fucking you again, no matter how soft and tender he would have made it for you no matter how bad he wanted to feel you wrapped all snug and warm around him one last time.

Jack decided to watch you sleep until you blink those big eyes open again and giggle when you find him staring.

“Morning, girl.”

You laughed, rolling onto the other side of the bed and sitting up. Jack admired the naked expanse of your back. You turned to look back at him, your profile lit up by the morning sun while Jack admired the expanse of you.

You looked like some sort of angel - naked and glowing.  

“Good morning, Jack.”

You sigh, looking off into the distance, down the infinite highway, away from him, that dark golden gaze.

“Nevada.” You exhale. That’s broad enough of an answer, right?

Jack smirks, nodding his head. “California after, I’m guessin’?”

Damn, he’s good. Or maybe you’re just obvious. Maybe you’re just exactly the type of girl he knows, the type of girl that would run away to the West, to fucking California like it meant anything, like it would reveal something to you. You know better, so does Jack.

He reaches for something in the pocket of his jeans, a folded paper from the motel room. He hands it to you, your fingers touch and it jolts you. Jack seems to feel it too.

“I’ll be seein’ ya, pretty girl.” He smiles before haphazardly tossing his old cowboy hat onto your head. You grip it tightly, not wanting it to fall.

“Hey- your hat!” You call after him but he’s already nearing the side of the highway, preparing to cross.

Jack looks back at you and smiles, shrugging. “Give it back to me in Cali.” He blows you an exaggerated kiss and your request from last night burns deep in your chest like leftover cigarette smoke - or a hangover.

Jack walks back towards the backside of the motel and you lock yourself into your car before you can watch him walk away more than you already have.

The old hat smells like him, you can still feel the residual heat from his hands on the rim and something prickles in your eyes. Damn desert dust.

You sit behind the wheel, hands carefully unfolding the scrap paper he had given you.

In beautiful cursive reads;

See you in California sweet pea,

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels

You laugh. You laugh out loud to yourself in your car, by your lonesome in the middle of a deserted parking lot in the middle of fucking New Mexico.

How had he known that you were going to California, when had he written this? You had just told him where you were going.

You laugh some more, wiping your eyes. You tuck the note into the pocket of your jeans, starting your car.

You head down the highway in silence, smiling to yourself as you head East.

taglist: @spideysimpossiblegirl​

[angelamajiki]

PARINGS: Pro Hero! Dabi x Sister! Reader

TW: yandere, incest, no con, voyeurism, choking, burning, unprotected/no prep sex, breeding/creampies, snowballing, public sex, degradation, lots of dirty talk

AN: WHEEWW my first fic in a while, so excited for my first join intro collab!! thank you to the lovely jo for writing it <33 enjoy

A BNHarem Server Collab! Check out the other works here.

Breaking news: We have yet another report to add to the slew of attacks this month, this comes just days after we broadcast rumours of villains running rampant over the city. This spate of attacks has put the entire metropolitan area at a standstill, road closures and damaged property making it difficult for commuters to get to work in the morning. Road maintenance endeavour to do its best to keep the city running, but it seems futile when these attacks continue to increase. The entire city was brought to a standstill by the mysterious villain who has still not been named, but reports show they are nothing like we have ever experienced before.

Where are the heroes now? Who will save us from the terror overwhelming our city?

Every day the crime toll continues to rise and we have no one here to protect us. The Hero Public Safety Commission assured us earlier in the week that the crime rate would go down, that the top Heroes are out there protecting our city, but if so, where are they? Is it really safe to go out anymore, who can we trust? Would you put your life in the hands of a Hero today? When they have proved our streets are no longer safe. We still have no information on what is going on, or who is involved but we must remain observant. We will continue to report the latest news as we receive it, but for now, we must implore you to heed the warnings of the city-wide curfew that is soon to be implemented. If anyone has any information on these occurrences in the city please send them to us or contact the police, you can remain anonymous. The safety of our citizens is what is most important, stay vigilant and don’t go out unless it is absolutely necessary.

Christ, what a load of bullshit the news was nowadays. Constantly whining and squealing about what heroes did and didn’t do, promoting fear-mongering like it was the hottest trend. Between your father and two older brothers dedicating their life to the cause of justice, the world always felt just a little safer to you, the naive little thing that you were. And tonight was no exception.

Despite the rapidly increasing crime rates, your judgment to grab a couple of drinks in the city with your friends was hardly swayed. The stress of it all was getting to you and you’d love nothing more to drink your heart out at one of the few spots still left open. It was a sleazy place, but it was fun. If anything, you found a bar in the area where your eldest brother was currently stationed patrolling.

Touya had always been protective of you ever since the two of you were children, and he carried that same possessiveness well into your adulthood. Always chasing off any potential suitors, keeping you out of trouble, and generally being a menace to anyone who thought they were good enough to be around his favorite little sister.

By the end of the night, stumbling around drunkenly was the only thing keeping you upright as you made your way out of the club and onto the street, looking for a taxi to get you home. Sirens wailed faintly in the distance, a mess of blue and red lighting up the darkened streets.

“Hey sweetheart. Need a hand?”

Grubby hands met your arms the same time the cool air of the night did, tugging and pulling at you to come closer, wherever that may be. Jaunts and laughter echoed off the buildings, only adding to the haziness the alcohol induced. “What’s a pretty little thing like yourself doing out here all on your lonesome?”

Weak attempts to push the group of assaulters off you were in vain as they groped and squeezed your body at their pleasure. “Come on, we’re just trying to keep ya company. Right, boys?”

“Stop..”

Your whine came across much more pathetic than you could have ever hoped, only earning more chuckles from the men. “Just relax, sweetheart. We’ll take good care of you.”

Blue flames danced around the group of you, closing the lot of you against the building wall in a small circle of fire.

“Will you now? Last I checked, I'm the only man suited for that.” Touya was less than amused to have found out from Fuyumi that you traveled into the city given its state, even more so when he saw how drunk and disorderly you were being.

“T-Touya-nii!”

The men untangled themselves from you with ease, tossing you into the arms of your expectant brother, who was more than glad to pull you into a tight embrace. “Shit! It's the number three, Heatstroke!”

The comforting warmth of his body and scent of his cologne settled your frantic nerves, tucking yourself closer into his arms. “Honestly, it’s like you're asking for it at this point.”

Your heart sank low in your chest, but you couldn't find the strength to move away from him as he scowled down at you.

“Look at what you're wearing, you little tease. Bet you would have loved to have them violate you, huh slut?”

Never has Touya been so venomous with you before; it made your heart hurt, even more, to see your beloved nii-san be so cruel.

“Don’t you worry, that’s why your big brother is here to show you who you really belong to.”

Shoved against the wall, he pinned your trembling form with his right knee in between your legs and his hands wandering over your skimpy dress.

“You boys can stick around to watch; let a real man show you how it's done.”

Flames singed at your dress, burning it to ashes to expose you in the cool wind of the night. Hot fingers pressed into your skin, littering marks in their wake before they wrapped around your throat. “You were just begging for nii-san to come to save your slutty ass, huh, princess? I know you checked my patrol schedule before ending up at this dive.”

His hand tightened around your neck, his lips at your ear. “Wanted nii-san to come put you in your place, yeah? After fuckin’ teasing me all these years, you finally cracked me. Are you proud of yourself, little girl?”

A whine slipped from your constricted throat, your smaller hand gripping at the large one squeezing you with everything it had. “And now you've got an audience to witness my ownership over you. You're mine, little girl.”

Finally releasing your throat, his hands traveled down to your chest and groped at your roughly, pinching and pulling at your soft, sensitive nipples. Bile was rising in your throat as you drowned in your own fear, feeling him drag you into the depths of depravity.

“What’s the matter, imouto? I thought you said I was your favorite. You're hurting my feelings, y’know.”

“Touya, please-”

A scoff slapped you hard in the face as his knee jerked up against your cunt. “Don’t start with me. I know who you really are and what you really want, even better than yourself.”

His words stabbed at your heart, and his wandering hands only seemed to pour salt over the wounds. “You’re nothing more than my whore, little sister.”

Hips ground against your backside in a slow, teasing manner, groans pushing past his lips as he did so. “You have no one to blame but yourself.”

His erection was pressed flush against you, straining in his pants before he unzipped himself. At this point, you were more than sobered up running on fear and adrenaline alone. Your panties were ripped clean off with his free hand while the other stroked his hardening cock. “Look at me.”

The tip was aligned with your hole, rubbing slightly to gather the minimal wetness between your lips. “I said look at me.”

Teary eyes peaked up at him through wet lashes, silently pleading with a man who was not known for mercy.

“Good fuckin’ girl, so obedient for your big brother.”

With one snap of his hips, Touya fully sheathed himself inside of your tight cunt, groaning at the way you squealed for him. “Aw, you like that, huh, princess. Feeling good?”

A warbled moan was the only response you could give him as he slowly began to pull out. The alcohol had you buzzing enough to block out the pain of the stretch, and damn did you feel filled to the brim.

“Can’t wait to breed this greedy little cunt of yours.”

His pace was slow, agonizingly so. Touya couldn't help but savor every second of the first time having been inside you, especially after dreaming about it for so long. God, if it didn't turn him on to have an audience, knowing that these men knew he was fucking his sister.

What would the media think? God, the news cycle would be ripped to shreds tomorrow over this breaking story. But hey, no PR is bad PR.

The thought of finally having staked his claim in you almost had him coming prematurely, but he had to hold out for your very first time together, and it certainly wouldn't be the last.

Heh, your crying face was so cute. Those tears weren't shy by any means and neither were your sobs. It's alright, you’ll learn to love being Touya’s cocksleeve.

“Say you love me.”

An impossible request when you're being violated by the person you held dearest to your heart.

His pace had picked up brutally, slamming into you without care for his flames spreading wildly nor the group of assaulters who seemed to vanish once they had the opening to.

“I-I love you, nii-san! I love you!”

Your cries were shrill and whiny, echoing into the chaotic night. The grip on your hips was heating up, so much so that his handprints were burned into your love handles.

“Good girl, good little slut.”

His breathing was erratic, hot against your neck as he growled and grunted into your ear. “Gonna let nii-san breed this pretty little pussy? Yes, you are. I know you are because you're fuckin’ mine, bitch.”

Moaning out your name, Touya came deep inside your womb, thick ropes of his cum painting your insides. You were soon to follow thanks to his thumb against your clit, causing you to writhe and whine in his arms.

Utterly spent, you rested against the brick wall you were pinned to, feeling the cum drip out of your still filled hole.

“Let’s get you home and into my bed, princess. I gotta go have a chat with Dad and Shouto, let ‘em know you’re fully off limits now.”

— tagging: @libiraki @bonesoftheimpala @tomurasprincess @sightoru