#realized quicker than normal i'd fucked something up

[leavingautumn13]

colored my initial sketch + some more sketches

the scars on his arm are from a fight with a feral deathclaw. scout thought it wouldn't attack him. it's not a mistake he makes twice.

[i have commissions open now]

[buildarocketboys]

54 or 95 + Peterick! (no pressure ask!!)

Thanks babe! Some hiatus angst for you!

54. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem.”

Pete practically drags Patrick home from his bar.

The man is Drunk, with a capital D. Pete's not sure he's ever seen him this drunk, and he's known Patrick since before he was of legal drinking age. Hell, he was there when Patrick got drunk for the first time, and may or may not have been responsible for several of the beers and shots that had gone down Patrick's throat that night.

But this is something else. Patrick's a mess.

Such a mess that Pete doesn't trust Patrick to be able to get home by himself.

He slips into the cab next to him.

Patrick makes a face at him.

"Why're you here?" he slurs. His voice is filled with such venom, even in his state of advanced drunkenness, that Pete cringes away.

"Just making sure you get home OK," he mutters, suddenly wondering whether he's doing the right thing. He thought he had been, thought he was just being a good friend (are he and Patrick even friends anymore?) good person, anyway, making sure Patrick gets home safe. But maybe he should have let someone else do it. Patrick obviously doesn't want anything to do with him.

Even though he had come to Pete's bar.

Patrick snorts. "Nah. I know what you want." He pokes Pete in the chest, then grabs Pete's hand and holds it against his crotch. "Go on. Take it."

Pete snatches his hand back, alarmed. "Patrick, I'd never do that!"

Patrick blows a raspberry and mumbles something that sounds like, "Yeah, right."

Pete lets his head fall back against the headrest, closing his eyes and threatening to stem the tide of self-loathing that threatens to overwhelm him. Because Patrick's not entirely wrong. He likes to think he's better than that these days, and he's never taken advantage of anyone this drunk, but even so.

He gulps air like he's dying and hopes Patrick's too out of it to notice Pete having a minor panic attack next to him.

Some part of Patrick must register it, though, because suddenly Patrick's hand is firmly gripping his knee. A calming, grounding presence.

Pete covers Patrick's hand with his own. Patrick doesn't push him away.

Bit by bit, his breathing slows and he's gradually able to calm himself down. By the time they're at Patrick's house, he feels almost normal.

Patrick falls down trying to get out of the car. Pete hauls him up, excruciatingly aware of how much lighter Patrick is these days.

He helps Patrick to the door as Patrick fumbles in his pockets for his key. He eventually pulls it out, to Pete's relief, because he's not sure he'd hear the end of it if he had to slide his hand into Patrick's ass pocket.

He takes it from Patrick and unlocks the door; it'll just be quicker.

Patrick scowls at him, his gaze a little unfocused. "I could have done that," he says.

Pete sighs. He can feel a headache coming on. He hasn't even drunk anything tonight - how is that fair? "Let's just pretend we had this argument and I won, OK?"

Patrick mutters something no doubt scathing under his breath and lets Pete guide him up the stairs, the two of them nearly stumbling and falling over a pile of stuff halfway up.

Actually, Pete realizes once he's got Patrick to his bedroom, Patrick's house is a dump. He wonders if Patrick still has a cleaner; he's never been good at looking after himself, so he'd hired a cleaner pretty much as soon as he was making enough money to do so. But he knows Patrick's plowed all his savings into making his solo record; maybe he'd decided a cleaner was an unnecessary expense.

Pete takes a shaky breath in and rubs his face. Not his problem anymore. Patrick doesn't want anything to do with him anymore, and Pete had promised himself he'd give Patrick some space. Patrick doesn't need him all up in his business.

Patrick's made that very fucking clear.

He staggers down the stairs to the kitchen, thinking he'll just get Patrick an aspirin and a big glass of water and then clear off.

When he tentatively knocks on Patrick's door and pokes his head round, he's relieved to see Patrick's in bed.

He sets the glass of water and the painkillers on the nightstand.

"Pete?"

Pete had thought Patrick had passed out, but apparently not. His (ex? former?) best friend blinks up at him from the bed, like he's only just seeing him.

Pete swallows. "Got you some water. And an aspirin. You might hate me, but there's no reason you should hate yourself when you wake up in the morning."

The joke falls flat as Patrick just stares up at Pete.

Pete clears his throat, about to make his excuses and leave, when Patrick speaks.

"I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. That’s the problem." Patrick's voice is raw, vulnerable.

Pete can't even bear to look at him.

"Yeah, well," says Pete. Then he gives a weak chuckle that sounds wetter than Pete would like. "I should be going." He turns away from Patrick toward the door.

"You can sleep on the sofa, if you want," Patrick says.

The sofa.

It's an olive branch and a bitter pill rolled into one. The Patrick of even a year ago would never have made him sleep on the sofa.

Pete kind of wants to curl up and die.

"Uh, thanks. But I've kinda gotta get back to the bar."

It's a weak excuse, and they both know it. Pete glances over his shoulder, wondering if Patrick will put up a fight, hoping he will.

But the light in Patrick's eyes just fades out, and he slumps back into his pillows. "Oh. Yeah."

Pete waits a moment longer, for what, he doesn't know. But Patrick doesn't say anything else, and neither does he.

He leaves. Wishing with every atom in his body that he could stay.

[lunapwrites]

I'm reminded of a fic I wrote a while ago, exploring the idea of Sirius and Remus getting a dog, ostensibly for Harry. The dogs in that fic were inspired by my own, with Stegosaurus taking much of her story and personality from Freyja. And what prompted me to write it (aside from a prompt from Imp) was the realization that Freyja was getting old, and sort of quietly contemplating her mortality, and the inevitability of needing to say goodbye.

With that said, I did not anticipate needing to say goodbye so soon, nor so suddenly.

I need to put this somewhere so I can stop replaying it. It's explicit and it's fucking sad and no one is under any obligation to read it. I just need it to be in a place that can be seen that my partner won't see. Because I lied to him, slightly, about the particulars. And I don't want to remember right now, but I don't want to forget either.

I wish that it had been quicker and easier than falling asleep for her, like it was in the fic. She deserved that. It was quick, true, but it was not easy. It was ugly. And she fought it.

She'd been sick, but was improving. Kidney disease and an enlarged heart, they said. All at once. Vet had us treating the kidneys first, hoping it would take pressure off her heart. And it seemed to be going okay. She'd gotten her energy back and was eating, even if not as well as she had in the past. She was playing with her toys again. She tried to steal my cookies not five minutes before it happened.

We were sitting on the couch. Feeding Bean, winding down for the night, getting ready to go to bed. She was curled up in her corner like normal. And then suddenly she stood up and she came over towards me, and started whining. Like, really whining, like I'd never heard her whine before. I still clocked the tone, it's just she's never been in pain before. She's never had to be. She started getting louder. And her legs started buckling under her, and she leaned her head over the side of the couch, and she just moved and sounded wrong, and then she made a noise. And in the fic I described this as "a funny little noise" because I'd never actually heard it myself before but wow did I undersell it. It's awful. It was like all the air got pushed out of her lungs. Worse than a wheeze. Like Christopher Lee had coached her how to sound like she'd been stabbed in the back.

And then she fell. Tipped forward off the couch in a way that no dog naturally moves and fell on the floor like she had no bones in her body. Head, limbs all at an unnatural angle. Literally spilled. She slid. Eyes wide and wild and she was still breathing. Still there, but not. Tongue lolling out of her mouth so hard I thought she was choking on it. Drool everywhere. I called my partner inside the moment she fell. She was still breathing. Weak, erratic, but it was there. I carried her out to the car and he got Bean in her carrier and we hauled ass to the ER. But I knew we were too late before I even got her out the door - she'd pissed everywhere. And I'd seen her eyes as I put her inside. Glassy. Tongue back in her mouth. There was no resistance when I carried her, and she hated being carried. Hated it.

Anyway she was pronounced DOA. The vets were very kind. Helped us figure out what to do with her. I left her there wrapped in her favorite blanket and I'm waiting for her to come back in the little box I picked for her. We think her heart gave out, and the vet agreed. She just turned thirteen.

My partner and I have been beside ourselves. We've had her for the entire time we've been living on our own, and she's seen us through every major milestone we've had so far. And she won't see another.

Odin is in a weird place. He's never been the only dog before. He was hoarded and then fostered and then came to us, and her. They didn't get along very well. She bossed him around something fierce. He still rushed to her side when she fell. He's okay most of the time but every now and then he just seems lost. Like he's waiting for her to show up and take charge again, even if he hated when she did. I left for an hour and he waited at the door for me too. For me to bring her back, like I had been with all her appointments.

I was able to open my front door for the first time in eight years yesterday without needing to manage a tiny, angry little whirlwind offended by its existence. I was relieved. I was devastated. My partner came inside and only one dog was screaming at him. Destroyed him all over again. I told him that she wasn't in any pain, and that it had been that sudden. That she'd just dropped out of nowhere. I didn't tell him that she knew. That she felt it. That she was scared and in pain for about ten seconds. Three audible whines. That was it. But that's more than he needs to know.

This sucks. I'm sad Bean won't get to properly meet her, because she was such a personality. I am really shaken by how sudden and violent it was, and the fact that she was within arms reach - I just was holding Bean and couldn't grab her. And mostly I just miss her. Like a lung. A really noisy lung that shed like crazy, and loved everyone she met. I'm fucking gutted. Between this and my mom being diagnosed with cancer and having a whole ass child this has been the most difficult summer of my life. I'm hoping, sincerely, that this is the last hard thing for a while.

Anyway I know this was a lot. If you did read it, sorry - but also thank you for listening.

[thingsenjoyer]

Oooooh remember when shiv meets tom for the first time and he's like "hello gorgeous, my bank account is full and i have cool and sexy opinions on everything. please, would you pay attention to me?🥹" and... then she frowns cause like , who tf does this guy thinks he is. weirdo. and when he sees that he didn't get a good first impression, he starts slipping and suddenly hes nervous and is like "ha, my name is.. uh tom wambsgans by the way, if you don't know me already" and thats the moment she CRACKS UP because of course this guy's fucking name is tom wambsgans. and, that she doesn't have the faintest idea of who that might be, even though, by the way he looks, he has got to be the biggest, most self-entitled douchebag on this entire big fancy, — almost synthetic — establishment and, maybe, — later she finds out,— even in the entire world. he's ridiculous, ok, he most likely has no idea who he's talking to, ok... he has water stains in his crotch cause, she supposes, he just got out of the bathroom, and he's not standing right. also, his breath smells like cheap whiskey —, or at least the closest they have to that in this place— and, for the weirdest part, all those details increase her curiosity towards him. it's a good skit, her mind provides. and it's genuinely funny cause she knows for a fact that roman always said she liked them like wet, bony dogs, always looking for a scratch, absolute rabid and the more pitiful sadness they'd radiate, the more she got closer to loving them. and if that's really the whole truth, this might be one of those, she realizes, quicker than she'd like to. — god, she must look lonely ...— then he watches the way she fix her posture and carefully place a hand behind her pearl earring, as if she's listening. "well", My name is Shiv Roy. she says while delightfully watching the shadow of his cocky smile and face fall down, piece by piece. though she can't see much of it because, sadly, it doesn't stay on for a very long time. she knows she likes to broke people down, then watch them struggle with it, to rebuild themselves again, though, truth be said, tom does it in a very short amount of time. and suddenly, all that sadness is less visible. there's only greed in his eyes, now and ooh yes, that lights up something. some reconizable feeling, almost sensation, "What do I owe you the pleasure, mon chanteur?" she laughs, do you know you just called me 'your singer', right? , he opens his mouth, then closes, that shine in his eyes. well maybe it's just tears, but anyway: well, at least through the course of this words, in this short amount of time, you're mine. another smile, that was the worst line she's ever heard. I'd count that as a win. and then she looks at him, the new prize she just found and the script says: Shiv thinks he might be right. It may be a win regardless. (and ooooh im so sane im so normal abt them)

anyway the scene cuts in then they go to her place — cause shiv likes to impress people she just met, apparently— to fuck, but perhaps, something different happens. maybe they don't actually fuck. just go to the enormous penthouse and shove their feet in that fucking olympic sized pool and talk. for like hours. but it doesn't feel like it, cause it feels whole, it feels safe, and maybe for the first time, even if it's just then, it feels complete. on both sides. and thats something that they've never had

[divinerulerluvr]

Enjoy the Silence

Warren Lipka visits you at work and wants to have some fun.

Request - i just read ur NSFW for warren and holy ff I would love if u wrote one about public sex with him? Maybe in the back room at work or wherever and playing onto his kink for yelling out his name

Warnings - public sex, risky sex, unprotected sex, kinda kinky idk what else to advise here its smut.

Words - 1.3k

Pairing - Warren Lipka x fem!reader

A/N - This got really dirty really quickly. This is also a combination with another request with the same premise. Also, I said i'd be posting this on Sunday but changed my mind :)

- - -

It was getting closer and closer to your lunch break during work and you were itching to have a rest from the bitchy customers that come in and out of the store.

You finish checking out one woman and take the few minutes that nobody came to your register to go on your phone. You hear someone walk up and look up to see who it was. You’re met with Warren who holds a box of something in his hand.

A smile spreads on your face as you see him. Setting down your phone, you see what he had placed on the conveyor belt. “XL condoms?” you say, grabbing the box and holding it up.

He just smiles, a sort of boyish charm to the smile. “We both know you don’t need XL, Warren,” you comment, wiping the smile straight off of his lips. “Hey,” he says, his voice feigning offense. You just smile, biting your lower lip.

“Is it almost your break?” he asks you, his eyes scanning the area around him. “Yeah. About ten more minutes,” you answer, making sure nobody needs to check out. Warren groans, throwing his head back in dramatic exasperation.

“Can’t wait? Am I that addictive?” you play around. He chuckles, nodding at your words. “I can’t get enough. Can you blame me?” he replies, walking around so he’s standing beside you behind the register.

He rests his head on your shoulder, his hands wrapping around your torso and sliding down your body. “Warren, I swear…” you warn shakily, your words not holding up very well as you melt into his touch, his chest flush to your back.

“Is your boss even here today?” he whispers, his lips dancing over your ear teasingly. You shake your head, your teeth digging into your lower lip as his hand plays with the waistband of your pants.

“Let's just sneak away. Five minutes,” he says, pressing soft kisses to your cheek. You sigh, your eyes closing as you try to find the courage to say no to the forever horny man.

“Fine. Five minutes,” you concede.

He smiles, his hands retreating from your hips and grabbing your hand to lead you into the storage room that he could locate with his eyes closed. He pushes open the door and before they could even close, his lips are on yours.

Your hand rests on the side of his head, lacing in his hair as he backs you into a storage rack. A few boxes tumble over and fall onto the ground, making you chuckle.

Pushed up against the storage rack, you pull one of your legs up and use it to keep him close to you. You could feel his already hard dick pushing into your leg, your own arousal growing as the two of you kiss sloppily.

His hand slides in between yours and his body, sliding under your shirt to pull your pants down. He leaves them bunched at your ankles, your panties following suit.

“Quickly,” you whisper into his lips, needing to stay quiet. He just hums in response, not even breaking the kiss as he pulls his pants down. His fingers slide through your pussy, chuckling softly as he feels your body jump against his from the touch.

Your arousal wets his fingers, letting him know you were more than ready. Keeping you pinned against the wall with his hips. He kisses you deeply as he pushes into you, using his lips to muffle any moans or whimpers.

You push your hips against his, letting his dick hit even deeper. Your fingers thread through his hair, finding it increasingly difficult to kiss him back normally. His lips pull from yours, his eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back and starts thrusting into you.

Almost immediately, your mouth falls open in a silent moan. Warren smirks, the storage rack behind you rattling loudly as boxes shake and fall. He moves his hips a certain way and it pulls a moan from your lips.

Warren almost immediately slaps his hand over your mouth to silence you. “You gotta be quiet for me, ‘kay?” he whispers, weed on his breath. You nod, your brows furrowed as he fucks you even harder than before.

With one hand holding the storage rack still and the other over your mouth, Warren’s head falls into the curve of your neck.

Your breathing heavy, you keep your body pressed firmly against him for stability. The rack behind you was flimsy and you couldn’t trust it. His own breathing fans your neck and shoulder, you could feel that he was getting close.

You were too, becoming stimulated way quicker than usual. Maybe it was the risk of being caught or maybe you were just especially horny.

The both of you were insanely close when the door to the storage room opens. Warren immediately stops his thrusting, his hand still clamped over your mouth. His eyes meet yours as you both hear the steps walk around the room and cease.

You thank Warren in your head for deciding to fuck you in the back row behind a rack of particularly big boxes so you couldn’t see through the cracks.

The person doesn’t leave but Warren starts slowly thrusting into you again. You glare at him but he just grins. He keeps his thrusts slow so the rack doesn’t start clanging again. The steps go towards the door and opens it before hearing it shut.

Warren peers over the edge of the rack, making sure the room was clear before picking his pace up again.

Even with his hand on your mouth, your moans still somehow echo in the empty room. He pulls his hand from your mouth and instead pushes his two fingers into your mouth, wanting you to suck on them.

You gladly do, your eyes meeting his as your lips wrap around his fingers and you hollow out your cheeks. He groans quietly, lust filling his dark eyes as he watches you.

Your eyes flutter shut, the pleasure becoming overwhelming. Your nails dig into his back through his shirt, his hand gripping the rack behind you as it starts to rattle loudly. Another box falls down, causing him to laugh shortly.

It didn’t take long for your orgasm to come crashing over you.

Finding yourself relying on Warren to stay upright. You also rely on his fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet. He cums soon after, the feeling of him filling you up breaking you out of your post-orgasm trance.

His thrusts slow, your legs feeling like jelly under you. He pulls out of you, his cum dripping down your inner thigh. His eyes land on the scene between your legs, a proud smile on his lips as he sees what he caused.

Pulling his pants up, he kisses you deeply. “You should get back,” he comments, fixing your hair. You smile, your knees practically wobbling.

“And don’t clean yourself up. I expect my mark on you to stay on your skin until you get home,” he says, zipping his zipper up and doing the button. You groan, pulling your pants up and immediately realizing how uncomfortable this would be.

“Get to work,” he instructs. You roll your eyes sarcastically, walking out of the storage room to get back to work with his cum still coating your inner thigh.

[so-writing]

Sugar, Honey, Ice and Tea - Matthew Tkachuk (4)

This part is shorter than I'd like but it felt right to end it here. also trash edits I'm sorry

-

all parts in the master list

Sleep. 

All he wanted to do was fucking sleep. 

The medics cleared Matthew and as soon he was back out on the ice, he made damn sure to get revenge on the asshole that had bodied him. He didn’t do it in a form of physical retaliation though, opting instead to rip the puck from the man’s grasp and score the game winning goal. 

It wasn’t even a home game but there were enough screaming fans present that they probably could’ve blown the roof off the arena. 

The win was incredible, their fourth in a row, but Matthew was tired. Mentally, he was fine, and he didn’t have any serious physical injuries but a hit that hard was going to have anyone feeling incredibly sore and beaten up. 

His sights were set on the hard hotel bed he had to share with someone he didn’t particularly like but the guys weren’t having it.

“Chuky! We’re going out tonight!” 

“You’re going out tonight,” he corrected, “i’m going to bed.”

“Come on, man, you have to come out! Game winning goal! Let’s drink about it!” 

It was the last thing in the world that Matthew wanted to do, but his team wanted him to go and so, reluctantly, he found himself sat at a high top table with a double shot of vodka sitting in front of him. 

“Fuck it, I guess, we won!” 

He threw the alcohol back like it was water and slammed the shot glass down on the table. He hadn’t eaten much that day, his nutritionist would be pissed if she knew, so the liquor was hitting quicker than normal.

“You want another, chuky?”

“You know I fucking do!”

*

The boys had gone out to celebrate and you planned to do the same with a few slight differences. Instead of shots in a loud bar, you stopped to grab a bottle of wine before returning to put on your favorite pajamas and hooking your laptop up to the hotel TV to binge the shitty reality show you were currently all about. 

Hours passed and as soon as you found the bottom of the bottle of your wine, you were ready to pass out. 

“Shit,” you said to the empty hotel room, “need to brush my teeth.”

The amount of wine you’d consumed didn’t hit you until you tried to stand up.

“Fuck,” again to no one, “maybe not.”

Dropping back to the bed and laying there for a minute, you prepared yourself to make the incredibly short trip to the bathroom to brush your teeth. 

“You can do it, you’re a good one! You got this!” 

Launching your body from the bed, you ran to the bathroom and burst into a fit of giggles as soon as you saw your reflection in the mirror.

“Oh my god! I’m drunk!” 

The booming male voice scared the shit out of you, but even in your drunken state, you realized it was Matthew.

“There’s no need to give a girl a fucking heart attack, Chuk!” 

You were halfway through brushing your teeth, toothpaste running down your chin, when you exited the bathroom to see him laying spread eagle on the floor beside the bed.

“Who the fuck is Chuk?”

It was hard to understand, and despite your own inebriation, it was obvious he was too far gone.

“You, idiot.”

“Don’t call me that! You are the one that is the idiot!” 

It was hard to take him seriously when he was rolling around on the floor in front of you, so it was no surprise that he got offensive when you laughed at him. 

“Stop laughing! I’m important!” 

“Oh yeah? To who?” 

“To the Flames!”

“Who is that?”

“What?!” 

He sat up immediately, rocking side to side as he began to explain, “the Flames are my team. I love those guys. We’re going to win a fucking cup!” 

There was something so innocent about his drunken rant. Something so innocent and adorable that you wanted to pull his drunk ass into a big hug. 

You didn’t though. You knew better. The working relationship between yourself and Matthew was hanging by a thread and the last thing you needed was some drunken bullshit making it that much harder. 

“I hope you do win a cup, Matthew.”

“Matthew again,” he whined, “I thought we were past that.”

“Sorry,” you corrected as you hid the smile behind the hand over your face, “I hope you win a cup, Matt.”

“Me too. Fuck!” 

He stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling your body into his.

“I really want to win this year,” Matthew purred in your ear. 

What the fuck was happening? Your body was pressed against Matthew’s hard abs and thighs and chest. You didn’t get along until literally yesterday but here he was wrapping himself around you like you had been lovers for years.

“I know, I want you to win too.”

You knew better than to lean into him. Matthew Tkachuk was someone you’d never gotten along with and were still very much on the fence about but feeling the heat of his body against yours had you questioning fucking everything. 

The wine coursing through your system didn’t help. 

“Can we cuddle? I just want to sleep and I want to hold someone.” 

“Someone?” 

It was bold and even though you were drunk you knew it.

“I want to hold you.”

“Okay.”

You fell into bed with Matthew with all the ease in the world. He wrapped an arm around your waist and pulled you as close to him as he could. 

It was drunken debauchery and nothing more. 

*

“Holy fucking shit, my head is fucking pounding.”

“Keep it down, asshole, you’re not the only one.”

You didn’t realize you weren’t alone in bed until you felt the weight of an arm wrapped around your waist. 

Holy shit. There was no way.

Slowly rolling over, you were met with the face of Matthew Tkachuk. His curls were wild and he could barely open his eyes.

“We both drank a lot. Go back to bed. Late practice today, no game.” 

Being in no mood to argue, and also incredibly tired, you took his advice. 

*

Waking up pressed into a beautiful woman wasn’t new to Matthew. 

He felt incredibly sluggish and tired but she wasn’t up so he tried his best to settle back into the bed and move as little as he could. 

Her body was warm and he found himself pulling her waist closer to his own and enjoying the feeling of their bodies pressed together. It wasn’t until she began to wake up that he realized who he was in bed with. 

Shit. Shit. Shit. 

They had agreed to be kind of friends but there was no way she would continue to honor that deal with his morning wood shoved into her back. 

[hinatastinygiant]

Newest Manager - Eight

"Hey, watch where you're going there, Y/N!"

Shit. I just bumped into Terushima.

"Wow, I'm really sorry. Guess I need to work on where I'm looking," you groan, rubbing your head.

"It's okay," he chuckles softly, "do you want to come sit with me for a bit?"

"Sure!"

You follow Terushima inside to where two of the Johzenji guys are sitting.

"Hey guys, this is Y/N," he smiles at the others.

"Hi Y/N! I'm Bobata."

"Hi!" you wave back.

"And I'm Futamata."

"Hey wait, I recognize you!" you say, a small gasp escaping your lips as you speak.

"Seriously?" Terushima hums.

"I think I saw you in a photo my friend showed me."

"Damn Futamata, you got all the girls talking about you."

Immediately realizing what you just admitted to them, you feel yourself get a bit embarrassed. Perhaps you overshared just a bit. They definitely didn't need to know that you and Asuka talked about them.

"What photo did you see Futamata in, Y/N?" asks Terushima.

Shit.

"Oh, um, I can't really remember," you lie, "but we weren't saying anything about you in a bad way!"

The boys laugh, but then continue to ask you about yourself. You tell them all about how you enjoy volleyball and just became Seijoh's manager. While you talk, you notice Iwa on the other side of the room and become unable to take your eyes off him. Once you finally do, you look over at Terushima to see him looking back at you.

Did he catch me watching Iwa?

A few seconds later, Terushima grabs your wrist and asks you if you want to sit. At first you decline because you didn't want to be a bother, but he grabs you by the waist and softly pulls you onto his lap. In shock, the other boys stop what they're talking about and stare at you.

What's the big deal? All I'm doing is sitting. It's not like he's putting any moves on me.

You gaze back over at Iwa who looks away from you the second you make eye contact. You begin to overanalyze your situation, questioning the situation you've found yourself in. However, the Johzenji boys act normally, continue to tell you about their team. All of them are super nice and the game tomorrow sounds like it'll be an interesting one.

"What positions do you guys play?" you ask, deciding to drop your thoughts about sitting on Terushima's lap.

"I'm a middle blocker," says Bobata.

"And I'm a setter," Futamata adds.

"Awesome! That's me too!" you beam, "Being the setter is the best!"

The boys all notice you're all excited to talk about setting. They let you ramble on for a little while until Terushima cuts in.

"You know, I'm a wing spiker," he nods, "you should show us your sets sometime Y/N."

"I'd love to!"

As you continue talking about setting with Futamata, Terushima slides one of his hands to touch your waist. You don't think much of it since you're probably squishing him a little bit by now.

After a while, Terushima slides his other hand to touch your thigh. Your immediate reaction is to look up at Iwa again. As your eyes meet with Iwa's you can feel his murderous aura towards Terushima.

What is wrong with me? It's not like Iwa's done much to show he's interested so why do I keep looking at him as if I'm cheating? Get it together Y/N.

Oikawa eventually notices Iwa staring at Terushima and looks past your cousin to see you, his eyes widening as the realization strikes his brain. Seeing a visible smirk appear on Oikawa's face, you know Yutaro's about to catch you.

Fuck, please don't let Yutaro turn around. I'll die if he notices.

As Yutaro turns around, it seems as if he is staring deep into Terushima soul. He looks about ten million more times pissed than Iwa did, but turns away quicker. You watch as Yutaro looks over at Iwa and says something to him in a serious manner.

"Hey," calls Terushima, "you okay?"

"Huh?" you hum as you come back to reality.

"Would you care to go outside with me for a bit? I could use some fresh air."

You nod and stand up from his lap. As Terushima stands, he grabs onto your waist again with one of his hands and tells his friends he'll be back later.

Damn, why's Terushima acting this way around me all of a sudden. I don't know what to think.

You and Terushima walk to the backyard. As you reach the back door you trip over the threshold. Luckily, Terushima catches you before you fell on the ground.

"Thanks."

"Man, you sure are clumsy Y/N."

I really hope Iwa and Yutaro didn't see me fall. I don't want them thinking I'm not safe.

"You're pretty funny Y/N," Terushima chuckles softly.

It's felt like a half-hour since you both sat outside and you were having a great time chatting with him. He was really easy to talk to and didn't judge you for being a little silly.

"Thanks," you grin.

Terushima's honestly pretty cute. Actually, it's a lot more than that but damn. I have no idea why he's talking to me or even how we got here, but I'm surprised that I'm actually enjoying myself tonight. I'll kick myself if I don't remember any of this in the morning.

"Would it be okay if I got your number?"

Heat rushes to your face the second he asks. The question of what you should do next immediately strikes your brain. Your mind begins to race as your heart pounds uncontrollably.

There's no way I'm falling for Terushima right now. This is ridiculous.

"If not, it's okay. I understand," he says "Oikawa, right?"

"What? Oikawa? What about him?" you ask, genuinely confused since there's no way you had feelings for your team's captain.

"I just figured you were into him, that's all. I saw you looking his way before."

"No!" you retaliate, "I'm not into Oikawa at all!"

Terushima laughs at the thought of Oikawa failing to hit on you.

"So then may I have your number?"

"Sure," you nod as Terushima hands you his phone.

What's wrong with this phone? I can't make out any of the numbers or letters? Where's the fucking five?

"Help" you mumble.

"Damn Y/N you're so cute when you need help," he chuckles as he takes back the phone.

A frown forms on your face as you watch him hold the phone. "Do you not want it anymore?"

"Of course I do. Just tell it to me and I'll do my best to write it."

After you give Terushima your number you go back to the same fun conversation you had before. A little while later, you begin to feel Terushima slide his hand back onto your thigh. This time it feels different because you pay attention to it more than before. As you feel him slide his body closer to yours you can't help but stare at him. As Terushima leans in even closer to you, you can feel his chest pressed up against yours while he slides his other hand around your waist. Not knowing what to feel, you continue to stare at Terushima from the close distance as he leans in to kiss you.

"Um, hey Y/N."

Iwa?!

Newest Manager Masterlist

[settersprouts]

꠵ look at me : chapter four ꠵

パニック 。

"How in the hell did we manage to get in this situation?"

Iwaizumi's and Matsukawa's shared thoughts explained the worst possible situation they would be in : they lost Oikawa and Hanamaki.

"Damn, this is bad." Iwaizumi reached for his phone, dialing Oikawa's number for the seventeenth time. Of course, just like the other sixteen times, there was no answer : the call just went straight to voicemail. "He put his goddamn phone on silent, what the hell was he thinking?"

Matsukawa rubbed Iwaizumi's back, supporting his teammate. "I'm sure they're fine. Maybe they went to get food or something." He checked his own phone to see if Hanamaki had read his texts, but his results were the same as Iwaizumi's. "I got no answer from Makki. He probably turned his phone off as well."

Iwaizumi grabbed his own hair, practically tearing it out of his scalp. "Crap, they're really starting to worry the living shit out of me." Matsukawa snorted a little bit, taking Iwaizumi's hands in his own to force him to stop making himself go bald.

"Look, you need to calm down. If they were in actual danger, the last thing they need is you not thinking straight." Matsukawa flicked Iwaizumi's forehead. "So, just take a deep breath. Breathe with me. In for four, hold for four, and out for four." Iwaizumi matched his breathing with Matsukawa's, and after a couple minutes his mini panic-attack had gone down, and the veins that were popping out of his forehead earlier weren't visible anymore. Muttering a small thanks, he checked his phone again just to see if Oikawa had texted. It was the same as earlier; no answer.

"Hey!" Hanamaki's bright voice rang through both boys' ears. They turned to greet the huge smile plastered on the boy's face. "Sorry about leaving you guys, I got you some food!"

Matsukawa and Iwaizumi both let out a breath they didn't know they were holding. "About time," Matsukawa muttered, opening his arms to give Hanamaki a little hug. "Was 'boutta call the cops on your dumb ass."

Hanamaki scoffed, shoving two paper bags into his friend's arms. "Well, screw you. I even got yours and Iwa's favorite too."

Iwaizumi peaked over Matsukawa's shoulder as the latter opened the crinkled bag. Inside were two foil-wrapped packages, the smell emitting from the wrapping suggesting Hanamaki had bought some food. Iwaizumi reached inside and pulled out one of the packages, opening the foil just a little bit to reveal Matsukawa's favorite food, cheese-filled hamburg steak.

Matsukawa gasped, taking the food from Iwaizumi's hand and looking at it like it was his lifeline. "Makki, you are a literal angel. God bless. I love you." He took a bite out of the steak, closing his eyes and smiling. "No homo though." He added on in between bites, finishing the meat in under fifteen seconds.

He gave the other bag to Iwaizumi, which held little plastic containers with some agedashi tofu. He inhaled the food's scent, wrinkling his nose a little bit at the sudden waft. It smelled normal, but it wasn't like the tofu Oikawa and his okāsan⭒ used to make. Even though Toorū was a brat about making food for Iwaizumi sometimes, he still managed to cook something up that tasted absolutely fantastic. It kind of scared him.

Iwaizumi pulled out the container, popping the lid open and stabbing a toothpick into one of the tofu pieces, popping it into his mouth. "So, where's Crappykawa?"

Hanamaki shrugged. "Dunno. I think he chickened out." An unamused expression made its way onto Makki's face. "He's probably still pissed about Karasuno beating us, that he didn't want to watch them go against Shiratorizawa."

Matsukawa and Iwaizumi both glanced at each other as Hanamaki stalked off, hands in his pockets and everything. "Sometimes, I really wonder what goes on inside his head."

"Honestly." Matsukawa replied, as they both speed-walked to keep up with Hanamaki. "I've been meaning to ask you, how's 'Kawa doing?"

Iwaizumi stiffened a little at the mention of his friend. A thousand things flew through his head. Should he tell him? Would Oikawa get mad? How would Matsukawa take it? Would he call the cops? Would he believe him? Would he tell Makki?

"You know, if you don't want to answer, you don't have to. Just don't glare at me, you're giving me chills." Iwaizumi snapped back to reality at Matsukawa's words, realizing he was glaring daggers at his friend. He mumbled an 'oh, gomen'nasai ⭒ ,' feeling relieved when Mattsun waved it off like it was nothing. "If it's personal, I get it. I'd be pretty 'pressed too, if I was in his situation."

"Hm? What do you mean?"

Matsukawa sighed, looking up towards the cloudy sky. "Well, Oikawa is an amazing captain, and setter. He tried for three years to make it to Nationals at Seijoh, worked his knee into a brace, and his chances were all swiped out from underneath him." Iwaizumi noticed his fist clenched a little bit, but decided not to mention it. "You know, I don't blame him for hating Kageyama. He was just born gifted, while Oikawa worked his ass off to get to where he is right now."

Iwaizumi nodded, remembering Oikawa's semi-hatred for the first-year Karasuno setter. "But, even so, that doesn't explain why he tried hitting him. You remember that, right?"

"Seriously?" Matsukawa turned his head to stare into Iwaizumi's olive-colored eyes. "I mean, sure, but he was having a panic-attack, if the things you told me and Makki were true."

"A panic-attack?" Iwaizumi looked at Matsukawa in shock. "Shittykawa? Having a panic-attack?"

Hanamaki slowed his pace so that he was walking alongside Iwaizumi and Matsukawa. "Yeah. From what you told us, he was breathing really fast and his pupils were small," he pointed to his own eyes while saying this part. "And he was sweating a lot more than he should have been, since he didn't practice all that much yet. Seeing Kageyama probably triggered his flight or fight response, and made him freak out even more."

Iwaizumi's eyebrows furrowed as the facts dawned on him. It all made sense now, why Oikawa had distanced himself so much more from Kageyama than he did before the incident. He'd avoid him at all costs, making sure he never came too close in contact with his underclassman : probably in fear of coming close to hitting him again. What if Kageyama triggered another panic-attack, and Iwaizumi wasn't there to stop him from doing something he'd regret?

Hanamaki looked at Iwaizumi's expression, clapping him on the back. "Oikawa's come a long way since then. That was what, three years ago?" He intertwined his fingers, flipping his hands and holding his palms to the sky. "He's doing a lot better now, and I'm really proud of him." He flashed a bright smile at them, which nearly blinded Iwaizumi and Matsukawa.

"Aw, man. I should've brought sunglasses." Matsukawa muttered, rubbing his eyes. Hanamaki laughed, slinging his arms around the latter's and Iwaizumi's shoulders.

"Let's just find some seats. Maybe we'll find Oikawa!"

⊱─ ‧̥̥͙⋅. ♔ .⋅‧̥̥͙ ─ ⊰

Iwaizumi muttered incoherent curse words as he climbed the fourth set of stairs, looking for Oikawa on the right side of the stadium now. "I know he's here. Why the hell is he so hard to find?" He, Hanamaki, and Matsukawa had split up, deciding that it would be easier that way to find the setter quicker and easier if he even decided to watch the match. Iwaizumi was about to give up when he noticed the familiar chestnut-brown tufts of hair that peeked over one of the chairs in the stadium. There he is, Iwaizumi thought, walking up behind his friend.

"Ah. So you're here too."

Oikawa stiffened, turning around abruptly at Iwaizumi's voice, probably expecting his childhood best-friend to yell at him. Fortunately for him, he didn't get that reaction, and he relaxed his shoulders a bit, but was obviously still a little tense. "I thought you said you didn't want to come, since it'll piss you off no matter who won," Iwaizumi said, as he hopped over the back of the chairs to stand next to his friend.

Oikawa smiled slyly, taking his arms off his knees and leaning back into the chair he sat in. "No matter who wins, I'm going to be able to see the faces of whoever loses."

"Man. You really are a piece of crap." Iwaizumi glanced at Oikawa, who's face now held his "oh so famous" setter pout. It really confused the latter how every setter he saw seemed to make that same face whenever something pissed them off. It was kind of freaky. Pushing his thoughts aside, he sat down just one seat from Oikawa, knowing that he would want a little bit of personal space while dealing with all the crazy emotions going on inside his head.

Oikawa leaned forward in his seat a little bit, his eyes dead set on the so-called "Chibi-Chan." Iwaizumi could've have sworn he saw stars in his eyes, like Oikawa was just taken aback by every move the middle blocker made. Hell, maybe even every breath he took. Iwaizumi watched as the orange-haired ball of energy scored a point, yelling out in triumph. Oikawa seemed to smile with his eyes a little bit, his complexion brightening by the second. It was obvious what team he was mentally rooting for, even if he didn't say so himself.

Oikawa turned to Iwaizumi, probably to say some snotty remark about Ushiwaka, before noticing the latter was staring at him already. Chocolate-colored eyes met olive-colored ones, a blush rising on the setter's face. Oikawa quickly turned his head, his ears noticeably flushed.

Fuck. He's cute.

⊱ ─ ‧̥̥͙⋅. ♔ .⋅‧̥̥͙ ─ ⊰

⭒ dictionary !! ⭒

¶-12 : okāsan, お母さん : an honorific form of address; used to call someone else's mother.

¶-18 : gomen'nasai, ごめんなさい : i'm sorry

** some of the dialogue in this chapter is paraphrased or taken from the actual scene in [ haikyu!! ] . this was not with the intention to pass it off as my own original work : it was only put there to fit the timeline and script of the anime/manga. all rights reserved to haruichi furudate. **

chapter 5 !

[thiswreckageivebecome]

The Winter Soldier is Still Here (Part 25 - “Hail Hydra”) (Bucky/Winter Soldier x reader)

Description: You’re working at the local farmers market when you meet Bucky and catch his eye, not only because you’re the only one who sells plums, but because you treat him like a normal person. As a friendship begins to bloom, it quickly grows into a relationship and you learn that life with Bucky isn’t as easy it originally seemed. I SUCK AT DESCRIPTIONS!

Word count: 2044....a short one, I'm sorry, but I thought a short update might be better than none. In the words of Peggy, “It’s been so long.”

Warnings: Language.

Author’s Note: I don't own art.

---------------------------------------------------

READER POV

__________

I stared in disgusted awe at Jake. This...this was not happening. He was...

"Jake, " I asked almost silently. "Who are y-? Why? What is going on?" He scoffed, rolling his eyes.

"Oh please, " he now spoke with a heavy Russian accent, "don't even start with dramatics and hysterics. None of that will help you. Nothing will, really. Oh, the Asset thinks he will save you. Hell, he probably believes he'll sacrifice himself for you, but no. He has no idea the storm that will soon hit him."

"But, Jake....you're...you're... what about the hospital? The hike? Our relationship."

"Oh, you thought that was real," Jake questioned in the voice I recognized. Then he laughed aloud. "Woman, you're a fool. The Asset really fucked you up, didn't he? You fell so easily into the trap. You've been the easiest target we've ever had. If you had left him be you'd have never become involved, yet here you are, still pining for him in New York."

I attempted to get up but the threatening tone that propelled itself at me stopped me cold.

"Don't dare fucking move, you bitch."

"I just, I don't understand. Any of it."

"Боже. ты идиот, но теперь долго, маленькая сука. Look, you're pathetic so I'm going to tell you this and then it's lights out. I'm not Jake. I wouldn't have such a trashy American name. You were the target to get to Barnes. Soon enough he won't remember you and you'll have no way of remembering him. Therefore, rest well knowing that you're the reason he will be serving Hydra once again."

As promised I was unconscious in the next second. The last thing I remembered was his cold hands around my throat and the room slowly dimming until there was nothing but pitch black.

BUCKY POV

___________

I ran to the weaponry faster than I had run in quite some time. I had to get to (y/n) soon. If I didn't get there quick enough, they'd kill her just for spite. As I got to the vault, a message came through on Steve's phone which I would have to steal. It was a location: Jumping Jack Powerplant. While the actual location of this plant had been erased from public record, I knew it well as the hideout Hydra had used when it was after Nick Fury and after its full control attempt at overtaking S.H.I.E.L.D. The location had to be close enough to D.C. to arrive in a short time yet far enough so that it was off of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s radar. I quickly grabbed all of my usual choices: Gerber Yari ll Tanto, SIG-Sauer P220ST, and Vz.61 Skorpion. To be honest, I didn't plan to put up much of a fight unless that's what it took to free (y/n) and get her to safety. Otherwise, I was planning to do what they asked but it was best not to go empty-handed. I closed the vault quickly and as I turned around Natasha was standing in front of me.

"Barnes, what's going on?" The tone of her voice told me she already had a clue.

"Nothing, Natasha. Don't tell anyone I'm gone. I have to go." I pushed past her but she quickly caught up.

"It's Hydra isn't it," she asked as she followed me down the steps. I'd make it downstairs quicker that way.

"Natasha," I called over my shoulder, "please, just go back and pretend you never saw me."

"No," she wouldn't leave me. I halted and turned to her quickly but before I could speak, she figured it out.

"They've got her, don't they?" Her words hit me again like a fresh ton of bricks, the reality sinking in more than it already had. I halted for a second to stop myself from stumbling as the weight on my chest began to cave in. I began to continue my descent but she didn't move.

"They're just trying to get to you, Barnes. They only want you."

"You think I don't know that? I don't care. I can't let her die on my account."

"Just so we're clear."

She quickly caught up with me and actually passed me. By the time I made it down she already had the vehicle pulled to the door.

"Get in." After I was in and the door just shut, "where to," she asked.

"Jumping Jack Powerplant. It's North o-"

"Of D.C. Yeah, I remember." I simply nodded. We rode in silence for quite some time. When we were about 15 minutes out, she broke the silence. "So what's the plan when we get in." I remained silent. "You do have a plan, right," she asked worriedly.

"Yeah. Kill anyone who gets in my way to (y/n)."

READER POV

————————

I awoke with bright lights shining in my eyes, lights so bright that I immediately had to squint. There was a beeping noise. It started to speed up and then I realized it must have been a heart monitor.

"The stupid princess awakes," Jake...or whatever his name was...spat. "The asset isn't here yet so you might as well calm down. No use in screaming either, no one will ever hear you and we made it where you can't reach your full voice anyway."

I tried to speak but no sound came out. I began to panic. What had he done to me? He smiled.

"You're one of the most stubborn women I've ever met. I just told you-you cannot reach your full voice, yet what is the first thing you try to do? You won't be able to scream or even speak for a while. You might as well calm down, otherwise, I'll put you back under." I attempted to calm down. I needed to be as aware of everything he would do as I possibly could. I tried to lie still and keep my face even and emotionless. After a few moments of this, he commented on it. "Hmm, maybe there's a reason you and the Asset got along so well. You're both able to turn off your emotion so well. Granted I'm sure the serum helps." I had to stop my eyes from growing and becoming restless again as he got ready to continue.

"You know, this little serum right here," he held up a syringe that held an almost clear, slightly blue-tinted liquid inside, "took us many years to perfect but once we did, we made vats of it. We keep it stored safely away in a top secret location, of course. I can't wait to use it on you. The ladies always have the best reaction," he finished explaining eerily. He began wrapping an elastic band around my arm and I couldn't remain calm any longer. I started to try and shake the table straps loose so that I could, in turn, get away. I knew it was useless but I had to fight. If nothing else, maybe I could keep him from getting whatever serum he was so in love with, within my body. I couldn't scream but that didn't stop me from trying. I could feel the tight sinched air attempting to scratch its way out into the warehouse but it wasn't going far. I didn't struggle for long. He stuck a different syringe quickly in my arm and there was the darkness that immediately surrounded me.

BUCKY POV

———————-

Natasha parked far enough away that we wouldn't be detected and I got into the driver's seat and drove slowly up to the building, on high alert for any sneak attacks. I knew Natasha wouldn't be far behind me, probably already making her way into the building before I pulled up and parked outside of the locked fence. After I took a quick observance of my surroundings, I got ready to jump the fence when the gate to my right began to open. They knew I was here. They had learned how to hide their cameras better than they had in the past.

I entered the grounds, even more, hyperaware of the fact that they had eyes on me even though I didn't have my own on them than I was before. After I had walked about 15 feet I saw them, I saw him. I recognized him immediately which was surprising considering I couldn't remember much else. As soon as he spoke I knew this was the man who had posed as Jake.

"Charscovsky."

"Soldier."

"What an honor that you'd meet me at the entrance, " I attempted not to sneer. All he did was smile mischievously.

"Oh, come now, Soldier. You act as though we weren't close once."

"You and I have very different definitions of 'close' then."

The eerie smile never left his face. He turned on his heel and began to leisurely lead the way into the building. As he led me in I noticed just the faintest blur of red hair to my left before I entered and I was grateful in that moment that Natasha had refused to be left behind.

"(Y/n) has had such wonderful things to say about you."

"Take me to her."

"Oh, now, now, Soldier. You'll be reunited soon enough. First, we need to discuss a few things."

"We don't need to discuss anything except you telling me where (Y/n) is. Once she's out of here we'll discuss whatever you like."

"You see, that was a huge problem that we never did perfect with the soldier serum."

He waited for me to respond but I refused. He stopped at a door and turned to look at me.

"You're not curious, huh? I suppose I'll say it anyway. It'll be valuable information to you very soon."

He paused again waiting for a response but when he realized I wasn't going to, that smile he had held for the entirety of the time since our eyes had met, began to fade which almost brought one to my face.

"Whether you're curious or not, Soldier, what I'm referring to is the ability to negotiate. You see, we didn't think about that at the time. Elimination and defense were the prime qualities we wanted but now, looking back, I can see it is something we will need to work on in the future. I imagine you'll soon wish we would have too." He arrived at a door and stopped. Four guards stepped between us as he leaned down and pressed his face to a retinal recognition. I suppose they knew I would be tempted to attack and dissemble in order to get to her if he were left unprotected. I heard the door unlock before opening into darkness. My body tensed as I didn't know what this meant. He waved off the guards so that they walked behind us and he led the way into the dark.

I then heard two thumps on each side of me. I turned, fully alert, ready for a fight, but instead, I saw nothing but as the room lit, a dash of red flew past me and took down Charscovsky, pinning him to the floor.

"Oh," he smirked, "Ms. Romanoff, what a pleasant surprise."

"Where is she?" Natasha sneered.

"Oh yes, you have become fond of her too, haven't you?" Natasha pushed down against his throat more, so that he had to put more effort into continuing, "не волнуйся, ты скоро ее увидишь." He smiled again, mischief playing happily across his eyes. Natasha stood and jerked him up along with her. I stepped to him, toe-to-toe. "Where the hell is she?" I was now snarling. He smiled and remained silent a moment. He was clearly enjoying himself.

"Oh, зимняя принцесса," he said louder as if he was calling to someone else.

"What?" Natasha quickly questioned.

"No," I said, not wanting to believe what he was saying. Fear and anger took me over. My vision blurred. "No!" I exclaimed, pushing him into the wall to my left. My left hand grasped his throat, the metal plates of my arm shifting to strengthen my grip. All the while he smiled.

"Bucky, what is it? What's he saying?" Natasha asked, worry filling her tone. She didn't have to wait long to find out.

[zirawrites]

Hey I really like your blog! I got quite a few questions from the questionnaire I'd like to ask, you by no means have to answer them all if you don't want to! Questions 2, 4, 5, 8, 10, 13, 20, 24, 26, 27, 29, 31, 43, 47. Hope that's not too much, okay love you bye

FALLOUT OC QUESTIONNAIRE

I’m honestly so glad someone wrote me with questions about my OG/OC Fallout 4 character! I only have one playthrough because I feel like I’m cheating on my character when I make another one. Her name is Zelda Draper (goes by Draper) and she sided with the Railroad. She romanced Cait, MacCready, Hancock, and Gage (though she killed him), but I like to pretend she’s really married to Deacon.

2. Which faction(s) did they join and which did they destroy? Why?

Draper initially joined all the factions, but she ended up choosing the Railroad. After seeing how terrible humanity treated itself after the bombs fell, Draper had little faith in other people. She rather help innocent synths that were a creation of the same species that killed her family than “waste time” building up settlements.

4. Give us a summary of their backstory.

Draper was a double-agent who played both the Railroad and Institute. On one hand, she couldn’t imagine taking down her own son. Shaun was her entire life. She dreamed of building a family with Nate. But after the bombs fell, Draper couldn’t care less about the fate of humanity. She almost wanted the Commonwealth to suffer because of how bitter she was.

She found solace in both the Railroad’s mantra of saving innocent synths and her partner Deacon. The more missions Draper went on with him to help escaped synths, the more she was falling in love with the organization. Draper felt that the synths were being abused in the Institute, so when she found out her son was dying, it solidified her position that the Institute must be stopped before they looked for a new figurehead. She didn’t think the other scientists would give her the Director title without a fight.

5. What’s their full name and does it have a meaning? Do they have any nicknames and how did they get em?

Her name is Zelda Draper, but everyone calls her Draper (or Charmer, of course). Draper comes from an affluent family that avidly enjoyed the gossip surrounding the Fitzgeralds. 

In reality, I found out Codsworth could say Draper and got super pumped. If it hadn’t had been for that aspect of the game, I would have simply called her Zelda. I thought you had to choose a name he could say (I was new to video games, give me a break!).

8. Do they have any medical conditions? Is medicine/ treatment available for them?

Draper is extremely healthy. Though she sometimes struggles with an on-and-off relationship with chems (especially Mentats and Buffout), overall she is perfectly normal.

EDIT: I’m adding this as an extra blurb. Draper is extremely mentally withdrawn. She obviously is suffering from PTSD after the trauma of losing her family and being thrown in to a post-apocalyptic wasteland. Instead of feeling anxiety, Draper is very detached from her emotions. This may be depression, or just a mental break. She actually joined the Children of Atom as a way to filter through her grief and animosity towards the nuclear fallout. She knows the fanatics are full of lies, but it makes her feel better treating the bomb as fate.

10. What do they fear the most?

Losing people who are close to them. Draper used to be warm and outgoing. When she lost Nate and Shaun, she refused to let her mental health slip any further. Draper rarely interacts with her settlers, or even the synths she saves. She keeps to her close companions, figuring if she has less of a chance of being hurt if she only has a handful of people to lose.

13. What Wasteland threat do they fear the most? (ex. Deathclaws, super mutants, raiders)

Draper hates running in to rouge Institute scientists or remnants of the Brotherhood. It reminds of her of the atrocities she’s committed to secure the Railroad’s success. She is also extremely uncomfortable by feral ghouls, especially because they remind her of what just a few more rads could do to Hancock.

20. Do they have any hobbies? What are they?

Draper loves collecting things from her travels. She has an entire shelf dedicated to trinkets. Among those are toy collectibles of different General Atomics robots and gifts her companions give her. MacCready’s wooden soldier sits proudly in the middle.

She also keeps a lot of clothing from her enemies. After freeing the slaves from Nuka World, Draper brought back all different sorts of garbs. For weeks all of Sanctuary was dressed as raiders. Preston didn’t appreciate the particularly pink and colorful outfit she saved just for him from The Pack.

24. Do they express their emotions freely or hide their true feelings?

She is stone fucking cold. The only emotion Draper lets you know she is feeling is annoyance. If she’s upset, Draper usually gets sarcastic. When she knows she’ll feel particularly upset about a certain mission, she wears duplicates of Deacon’s sunglasses. Draper raided the entire Institute wearing aviators so Shaun wouldn’t see her cry.

26. How do they come off to others? What first impression do they usually make?

Draper is a woman of many trades. It’s extremely hard to read how she’s feeling, especially because she’s always wearing shades and long, dark clothing. If you meet her through the Railroad (people like escaped synths or new agents), she is actually friendly. Draper tries to put her allies at ease, and doesn’t mind asking you about yourself.

If you meet Draper as regular Commonwealth folk, she is more reserved. She won’t be outright rude to you, but Draper likes to make sure you know she’s the most fearsome in the room. She’ll usually let her companion do most of the talking.

27. Do they prefer to travel alone or with company? Who have they traveled with if any? Current companion if any?

Surprisingly, Draper rarely travels alone. She has no problem being by herself, but bring along friends makes the time pass a little quicker. If she is visiting settlements or doing any positive work, Draper brings Nick or Hancock. Both of them are quick enough to keep the conversation interesting, and appreciate her helping other settlers.

In most other cases, Draper brings along Deacon or Cait. Her choices most align with causing a little trouble and not always doing the right thing. Neither of them seem to mind.

29. What do they find most attractive in others? Name at least one psychological and physical trait. (doesn’t have to be romantic attraction)

The best way to catch Draper’s attention is to have a sense of humor. She tends to be cynical, and anyone even more dramatic would bring both of them down. Quick wit and sarcasm will always catch her attention and gain her admiration.

Draper isn’t too picky about physical traits. However, she’ll never turn down a warm smile or bright eyes. It’s more about how confident you present yourself versus what you aesthetically look like.

31. What’s their love life like? Are they interested in anyone or in a relationship?

Draper had been in several relationships with companions before marrying Deacon. She was first involved with MacCready and even exchanged Nate’s wedding ring for his wooden soldier. Additionally, Draper wears his hat everywhere she goes. I mean, it’s a pretty great hat. She eventually had a fling with Hancock because their sense of humor is the most similar. He also didn’t judge her for her occasional stint with chems. Draper was briefly involved with Gage before destroying Nuka World. Luckily she didn’t physically kill him, it was Curie who shot him when he became hostile. Probably to spare her anguish.

Draper’s only bisexual experience has been with Cait. She had never been involved with women before the war, and hasn’t been with another woman since (though Piper often makes constant advances… I haven’t shut down her final affinity speech yet). It was only after securing Nuka World and going on a few more missions with Deacon that Draper realized she was in love with him.

43. What weapon(s) do they always carry with them?

Draper has heavily modified the Deliverer that Deacon gave her on their first mission together. She rarely uses it, but it’s always a sweet memento and she feels like he is with her when they’re apart. 

Draper also always has some kind of radiation gun from the Children of Atom. Since joining the cult, it just feels natural to have something like that if she ever runs in to her brethren. 

47. What’s their favorite radio station and song? (post-apocalypse)

You can’t beat the classics in Diamond City. She usually listens to “It’s All Over But The Crying” because that was the first song that played when she left the vault. It makes her think of her first day in the Commonwealth when she seemed to be the only one mourning an event that happened 200 years ago.

[tis-i-a-humble-nerd]

well i'd like to know your opinion on kafka's metamorphosis (cause it makes me angry too ?) have a nice day !

omg i’m so sorry i didn’t see this until now! i’m so glad someone else is also angry about metamorphosis. this got really long - like, a mini essay long - so i apologize in advance. also, necessary warning of spoilers under the cut.

let’s preface this by saying i understand that the book is supposed to be a criticism of mindless bureaucracy, i understand that all the things i’m talking about serve a purpose in the novella, and i also don’t have a copy in front of me bc the book i read i borrowed from my teacher.

that being said, here are my (very) strong opinions on franz kafka’s “the metamorphosis”.

right off the bat i’ll say this: it’s weird. it’s so weird! i honestly have no other explanation for this point because it starts weird it ends weird and it’s weird in the middle there’s literally no fucking reprieve from the sheer bizarreness of the story. like, here’s a brief, off-the-top-of-my-head, no-references-whatsoever list of weird things that happen in this book:

it literally fucking starts off with someone waking up as a bug. this seems fine, its a very common (and often effective) tactic to start your story in the middle/very beginning of the action, it gets the reader hooked, it establishes the main conflict right away, yada yada yada. but like, normally the rest of the book serves to explain the purpose of this conflict. NORMALLY there is an explanation SOMEWHERE about the how/why behind the conflict. NORMALLY the “HOW”S and “WHY”S of someone turning into a BUG is not just IGNORED. NORMALLY someone turns into a BUG for and ESTABLISHED PURPOSE that, sure, may be open to interpretation, but has AT LEAST ONE clear, set, definitive EXPLANATION! but does kafka offer any of this? No! why would he? why the FUCK would he think to offer ANY sort of explanation as to why his main character has been turned into a bug???

gregor is like, “y’know, my whole family aside from my sister have so far been unable to understand the messages i’m sending them. maybe, i’m just not being clear enough! maybe the problem is not that i’m a giant fucking bug, but that i’m not expressing myself clearly! i know what i’ll do, i’ll try and convince my father that i mean no harm! surely he’ll understand.” he’s literally that dumb. he treats this shit like its totally fine and normal and okay the whole fucking novella and meanwhile his family is acting like normal people would (scared and confused and nice at first but ever quicker getting to their wits end) but gregor is just fucking like “la di da gotta get to work! guess clothing is gonna be tricky but i’m sure i’ll manage! mr manager please i know i’m late but this bug thing is not gonna affect my work at all! father, mother, please let me be a part of the family i don’t understand why you’re reacting so weirdly to this!” dumb man.

let’s gloss over the whole apple-stuck-in-his-back thing cause that’s weird but at least its in the realm of understandable. lets fast-forward right to the part where he hears his sister say “the REAL gregor would leave us as soon as he found out he couldn’t work!” (which, like, is a whole other thing to unpack) and he just, dies. my man literally fucking lays on the floor and dies. theres literally no other way to describe this i swear to god he just,,, dies! thats it! he’s gone! bye bye gregor! i hate it.

the book fucking ends with his parents going “wowie it sure is nice to not have a bug son anymore. hmmm, our daughter sure does look ‘voluptuous’ - maybe we should find her a husband.” and that’s it. that’s the end. no more! what the fuck. 

moreover, gregor acts, through the entire novella, like everything is fine! and maybe this is just because i’m someone who gets easily sucked into books but when i read it i’m going along thinking “la di da everything’s fine” because that’s what gregor’s thinking! and then i put the book down for whatever fucking reason and i realize exactly what a cursed story i’m reading and i get angry about it all over again! this time, with real bonafide feelings of betrayal to season the deal! kafka really gets me every fucking time and i honestly can’t tell if i’m more angry at him or more angry at myself for getting bamboozled over and over again! 

and, finally, for the icing on top of the cake: every single reason i hate this book can be defended as a good, legitimate literary choice. 

every. single. thing. 

gregor being unaffected is a handy way to get right to the point kafka is trying to make! and it adds a nice, thick level of irony to the whole affair! the unexplained transformation leaves it up to interpretation what the real metamorphosis was and offers chances to defend arguments such as:

the always reliable “its about the unquestioned mindlessness of bureaucracy”

the metamorphosis was not, in fact, about gregor, but was about his sister growing up (alternatively: its about his parents)

something symbolic about the death thing that i can’t think of right now

at least like, three other things. i don’t know. i don’t fucking know. i try not to think about this book too hard cause then i get angry and then i start to understand it and then i get angry all over again cause fuck! a book that weird shouldn’t even be in the realm of understandable what the fuck franz!

kafka’s novella is written with obvious purpose and intent, and that shows when you’re actually analyzing his writing, but if you’re just taking a joy ride down acid trip lane there’s so much to unpack about literally every plot point of this book and quite frankly the fact that its actually a very well-written story that really gets kafka’s point across quite well just makes me angrier because i can’t even hate it without thinking “wow, what a good, effective, purposeful book” even though literally nothing in this book has any right to be that good, effective, or purposeful. this links up real hard to the point i made about feeling betrayed by the reality of the story.

anyways this got a lot longer than i expected and i’m very sorry but hopefully this makes up for me taking so long to reply. i hope you’re having a nice day too!