#and when you have that nobody treats you normally.

[leviathanleva]

Daisy

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Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Fem Reader

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Description: Cooper Howard was not a kind man, he cared for nobody, but himself. Then he found you, a lost little dove, barefoot and crying, torn dress and big innocent eyes staring at him like he was a hero. He knew you’d be a burden, he knew you couldn’t survive in the wasteland, he was doing you a favor.

But he couldn’t pull the fucking trigger...

[Graphic description of gore] 🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼 Chapter 3

The flickering ceiling lamps only exacerbated the grim atmosphere, but they did slightly help with finding your way. They also hid the majority of the massacre, but you weren’t blind to the horrific scenes of vault dwellers strewn up and skinned and prepared for processing. You’d wretched and convulsed at the sight, clutching at the wall for support and fighting back tears of terror, and if it hadn’t been for your empty stomach you would have most likely thrown up all over the ghoul’s boots. There was so much food around and the raiders still chose their twisted ways and treated the corpses of their victims, human beings, as cattle in need of rationing and preparation. It was engraved in them, you guessed, after living so long in an apocalyptic, hellish world, eating people was as natural to them as breathing. You tried to justify their actions even if they made no sense, but after seeing cut-open bellies and spilled intestines and dribbling blood as the corpses were hung to drain, you couldn’t.

No matter how difficult a life, nothing could pardon such barbaric actions, not when the cans of cram and sacks of tatoes were right there. The raiders didn’t kill and butcher out of need, they did it out of pleasure, they drew with blood on the walls, bludgeoned flesh and bone to a pulp, stripped skin bare, and let bodies dangle like slaughtered pigs.

The more gore was presented to you on a rusty platter, the smaller your pool of empathy became until there was nothing but the screaming aftermath of gunshots sounding right above your head. You still jittered, but didn’t flinch anymore, he had you, you were safe with him. His boots echoed with menace through the corridors, beckoning the raiders to their end, while your delicate bare feet glided over grime and glass and chaos.

He used you as bait once the raiders were close enough to spot you, your history with them causing a sudden urge in them to let go of their logic and self-preservation and charge headfirst into a shotgun barrel. You would have minded, but he was death incarnate with a weapon, and you were so set on restoring the sanctity of your vault, your home, that you were ready to do just about anything. He killed until there was nobody else with a heartbeat except you and him. He killed so casually, that you almost believed it to be normal.

Once his end of the bargain was done, you started searching, straining both mind and vision for that particular room with a false bookcase. You guided him past the vegetable field, through the cafeteria, and rushed past the school because there were too many bodies piled up for you to stomach. He followed with minor protests, but mostly kept quiet and alert, acting as a guard hound while you pursued the location of the emergency storage. It was only when you ended up in the residential wing with a confused noise that he spoke up.

“You’re lost, darlin’, admit it.”

You shot him an angsty look over your shoulder, arm outstretched in front of you as the white flashlight installed in the Pip-boy illuminated the vault hallway. When you enter the first home, just the structure of it is enough to tell that you’ve got the wrong place, you scowl, but trudge further inside anyway.

“I’m not lost.” you retort, refusing to let his remarks leave a stain on your photographic memory, and pace around the tiny complex. “It should be in this wing, I just need to find the right room.”

“Whatever you say…” he hums in mock and purses his lips, then opens the metal door wider before stepping in after you. He lets you explore, his eyes skimming with disinterest over the homey aesthetic he was so alienated from that it didn’t even ring a bell of nostalgia. His sights lock on the fridge and his feet react faster than he’d thought possible. Bingo.

The self-powered beacons perched over the whey field creep through the windows and it’s enough light to scarcely brighten the complex. It would have been a haunting sight if the ghoul wasn’t with you and a timid part of your consciousness tapped at you, reminding you that he wasn’t going to be present for much longer. You hadn’t planned on dwelling on such a thought for long, but you had no clue what to do once he was gone. Left alone to fend for your life with no skills or experience aside from dry theory accumulated from years of reading, there wasn’t much you could do except live off the remnants of the vault and try to keep the garden alive.

How would you be rid of all the corpses though?

It would take years to restore everything, or at least the parts that were salvageable, you’d never be able to swap the broken windows or replace the shattered light bulbs.

You scurried off the nasty reality of your future and proceeded to kneel in front of a shoe cabinet. Your feet were irritably sore and in desperate need of protection so you sunk your arms to the elbows in the darkness, the flashlight distorting under the pile of slippers and sandals.

“You’re not mad, mister?” you ask and turn back to find the ghoul waist-deep in the refrigerator, rummaging as a cacophony of clinking bottles and stuttering plates soundtrack his rampage. He looked almost domestic and you had to bite down on your bottom lip to keep from smiling. “Cuz I haven’t found the storage yet?”

He resurfaces at your question, a bowl of mashed tatoes and a platter of grilled cram cradled in his embrace, traces of soy milk stained his lips. He wiped his mouth on his shoulder and tossed the food on the kitchen counter before resting on his elbows while flicking his tongue.

“Plenty of Pip-boys layin’ around.” he shrugs simply and rips his glove off before sticking two thick fingers in the tatoes. “Can make a small fortune outta those.” he offers you a toothy grin before licking his fingers clean.

“Please use a fork, sir.” you grimace at his tasteless display before turning back to your task at hand.

“Mind your business, smooth-skin.” he grunts and sinks his teeth in a thick slice of cram, scarfing it down as if he’d not eaten in days. He scoffs at your faint giggle and waves you off, too high on the idea of a proper meal to care for your coquettish snip.

You continue to dig through the assortment of old shoes, relishing his vocal satisfaction as he feasts. He chews hastily, taking breaks every few bites to wash down the food with whatever juice or milk he blindly pawed at on the fridge door. After tossing away a pair of white fluffy slippers and jamming your hand against a leathery surface, you pull out a left-footed cargo boot. It’s stuck, tied by the laces to something crammed deeper in the cabinet and you feel your way until you find its twin. Once freed, you look them over with a tilted chin and a contemplative look.

They seemed remotely your size, with a pair of thick socks they’d probably fit perfectly and they were preserved and sturdy enough to withstand some broken glass.

“You think they’ll miss these?” you raise the boots in display and ask before thinking about how stupid your question was.

The boiled corn cob pauses just shy of his parted lips and he stares at you like you’d grown a second head. The silence that befalls is one of realization with a twinge of melancholy and you avert your eyes as your mouth twitches into a small frown. The shoes are lowered to your chest and you hold them close in wordless mourning, face dimming, shoulders lowering.

“Oh right…frick.”

“They’re dead, sweetheart.” he speaks softly, a hint of pity hidden beneath the layer of rasp. “Don’t think they’ll miss anythin’ anymore.”

In truth, you didn’t mourn the rest of the vault dwellers. They were strangers who’d shared the same living facility as you, there was no attachment there except for baseline human empathy. What you grieved over was your sanity, the solitude you’d be subjugated to and you’d grown accustomed to being alone, but after knowing the atrocities that had occurred and the reasoning for your lonesome existence, you doubted things would go well. You’d be forced to fend for yourself and there was no guarantee that another wave of intruders wouldn’t end up on your doorstep.

You picked at the soles of the boots absentmindedly, ignorant to the sympathetic stare targeting the back of your head.

You weren’t accustomed to caring for your needs, having been coercively babied all your life and lacking basic skills. The only bond you’d ever had was with your father and the knowledge that you’d eventually stumble upon his corpse riddled you in goosebumps. You dreaded that sight, eyes dampening at just the thought and mind failing to even picture such a sickening image.

You drag an arm over your drippy nose, sniffle and stand.

“Need socks.” was all you managed before hurrying to the bedside closet at the other end of the complex, hiding behind a wall and out of the ghoul’s prying gaze.

This was fine. You’d figure it out as you went. There was no point in worrying over things that haven’t happened yet, right?

You shone your flashlight into the closet's depths after flinging it open, searching for a ball of stretchy material, anything that remotely resembled a pair of socks. Shuffling came from the kitchen area, a throaty grunt, a few clanks, and the shattering of porcelain. Paying no mind to the ghoul’s ruckus, you sift through the clothing hangers, stopping only when an intricate floral pattern catches your eye. You tug at the cloth, pulling it off the bar and hooking a finger around the clothing hanger before straightening it out.

A dress, pretty and frilly at the bottom, littered with small hand-sewn red blooms, sparkling white and in pristine condition. It reminisced of better times when people reigned over a peaceful and bountiful land, when radiation existed only in the confines of nuclear factories and cannibalism was scarce and very taboo. Your dull expression softens with a doting smile as you coo over your new fit before tossing it on the bed.

Your search continues shortly after, rummaging and scanning, digging deeper until you find a small raft overflowing with undergarments. A pair of black tights and heavy woolen socks later, you pass an anxious glance at the edge of the wall separating you from your overly grumpy bodyguard before tugging the straps of your dress off your shoulders.

“What the hell are you doing in there!?”

“I’m changing!” you rush to answer, shimmying out of your dirty, torn attire before sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling the socks over your feet. After taking note of the now gooey gash on your ankle, you decide to postpone wearing tights until it’s been cleaned and bandaged. You swallow back a lump of anxiety and make disinfecting the wound your top priority…once you find the storage unit that is.

“Hurry up!”

Once the boots were secured, you neatly tied them up and scurried to slip on the new dress in case the ghoul decided he’d had enough of waiting and barged over in his typical unruly fashion. It fit you so well, but there was no time to enjoy yourself, you tossed the tights over the junction of your elbow and patted down the frilly edges grazing your knees.

The world came crashing when the zipper got stuck.

“Freaking fiddle sticks…”

You tried and failed to resolve the dilemma, patting blindly at your upper back, reaching over your shoulder, and coiling an arm behind your waist. Even when your fingers did manage to find the zipper again, it was jammed and no amount of vigorous tugging helped and you didn’t want to apply more force lest you cause a tear. A small whine, dainty and annoyed, bubbled in your throat and you hung your head back and stared up at the ceiling in despair. This had to be some sort of cruel joke, a jut at you for daring to find a sliver of happiness.

“Uh…mister?” you call out, weak with embarrassment as you slowly succumb to the walk of shame. You round the corner slowly, apprehension in every step and boring a shameful visage. “I need help…please.”

Your lovely bounty hunter had sprawled out on the counter, his hands resting on his now full belly, one perched up knee swaying nonchalantly as his other leg kicked dangled leisurely in the air. His hat rested over his face, obscuring his vision as he breathed slowly, in utter bliss for the first time in a long while. The shotgun once secured on his back was tucked under his neck. The empty plates were carelessly chucked to the floor when he’d made room to lie down and now you knew what all that ruckus had been caused by.

It would have been quite the heartwarming sight if you weren’t currently wallowing in self-pity.

He rouses at your beckon, sitting up and readjusting his hat and giving you his best acid scowl for disrupting his peace. Then he notices your pained expression and skittish shifting and quirks a nonexistent brow.

“The hell’d you do?”

Ah yes, the sardonic question a parent would ask their misbehaved child after yet another minor disaster. That’s exactly what you need at the moment.

“I – ” your teeth grit, jaw tightening in discomfort. A sad puppy-eyed stare plastered on your droopy features as you stand next to the counter before reluctantly turning around and brushing your hair out of the way to expose your back. “ – It’s stuck…”

A snort of laughter fills the dim complex and you shrink in utter humiliation, fussing at his reaction like the wimpy thing you’ve been demoted to. He turns in his spot and his knees encase your frame as he slopes closer.

“Can’t even dress right.” his berating smirk nips at the back of your neck and earns a sigh of defeat.

Cooper Howard wasn’t a man to regret many things and he’d done enough awful deeds to have him kicked out of a church if he ever dared set foot in one. Not putting his glove back on, however, would be one of those regrets. When his disfigured fingers dipped beneath the hem of your dress to hold it steady as he worked the zipper free, he brushed against your skin and it was so soft that he nearly missed the feeling altogether. A pang of something awfully warm wrapped around his ribcage like a vine and he was so shaken to the core that he forgot he needed to breathe.

You felt like the past, all lovely and nice and tender, as if ripped from a time he struggled to recollect and let go of both, and you were thrust in his hands and he didn’t know what the hell he was supposed to do with you. All charming smiles and sugary words and naivety that had him torn between hatred and incessant thirst for more of whatever it was you did to him. So addictive yet so detrimental.

He chalked it up to lust, a guttural craving any normal man would feel when presented with a cute little thing like you. But it wasn’t that at all. It had nothing to do with any carnal human craving.

You were a gateway to what he used to have, a walking memory of who he used to be.

It made sense if your story was true. Being tended to all your life while locked in a lab orchestrated to be your private room, it would leave anyone silk-skinned, bright-minded, and burden-free. But that didn’t ease him, it didn’t falter him from feeling like he was drowning.

You were the even tune of midnight jazz, a slice of hot apple pie, and a fresh cup of Joe on a Sunday afternoon; a little piece of heaven he’d never asked for and a cruel incarnation of damnation he’d always feared would catch up to him.

“Is it fixed?” you peep, saving him from the jaws of his mind, and look back, happily unaware of his self-destructive internal dialogue. The darkness hides the strain hovering over his distant gaze. “Did you manage?”

“ ‘Course I did.” he barks and is back to normal in an instant, pulling the zipper up before letting you go. “Done.”

He makes sure to secure his glove back on and cusses out the invasive thoughts.

“Thank you so much!” you grin with glee and throttle away like a victorious toddler. “How do I look?” you twirl with pizazz, then remember the tights dangling off your arm and bunch them up in one hand in case they took away from your dashing performance. “Don’t mind those.”

The ghoul scoffs, shaking his head in disbelief at how stupidly charming you are, and slides from the counter before reaching for his shotgun. You take his reaction as a good sign, satisfied with your new, clean look, and brush down the dress with the back of your hand.

“Les go.” he clicks his tongue at you, motioning with his head before fiddling to load his weapon. “Can gawk at yourself plenty when I’m gone.”

His remark receives no pushback. You follow suit, back into the benevolent corridor with hanging dead lamps, stepping carefully next to him with Pip-boy pointed straight ahead. It felt good to not have to constantly worry over a stray piece of debris catching on your feet anymore. Now your footsteps sang in tandem with your bounty hunter’s albeit much lighter and more frequent. With eyes darting from wall to wall, you peeked into each adjacent living complex. The sting in your ankle continued, snapping at your every move and your grip on the tights hardened. Your nails sank into the material for purchase as impatience nibbled at your nerves.

Apartment after apartment. Nothing even remotely resembled the room you were looking for, but it had to be here somewhere. The vault plans didn’t lie and neither did your memory.

You nearly tripped over a stray cable while ogling a bright pink suite layered with fuzzy rugs.

“You sure you ain’t just sendin’ us on a wild goose chase?” the ghoul asks while cracking open another steel door for you to inspect, then dips his hat and lilts “Ain’t gonna shoot you, sweetheart. Don’t need to lie anymore.”

“I wasn’t lying, mister.” you look up at him with hurt and he keens, blinking slowly at you and deciding to leave it at that.

Whether it was due to exhaustion or that look, he wasn’t sure.

If you were this set on proving to him there was a storage full of medical supplies and provisions he wasn’t going to stop you. There was plenty of food and drink to stay a while and his current bounty wasn’t notorious enough to top a fresh bed and a full meal. The caps weren’t worth it compared to what you’d offered him and he had enough vials to last him a while before any feral symptoms started poking through.

“It’s somewhere here, I know it is, these are just the wrong rooms. But the map showed it was in the living quarters to the north. It has to be a bigger space and with a bookcase in – ”

A hand clasped gently over your mouth, cutting your ramble short.

The ghoul grips your arm and shines the Pip-boy at the end of the hallway, the tense look on his face making your stomach knot. He takes one step forward, leaving you to linger behind him and you would’ve liked to believe it was to protect you, but it was most likely to get you out of the way.

You hear his gloved hold tighten around his shotgun and bite back the need to ask him what he’d picked up that you hadn’t. You never noticed the almost silent steps that had slowly crept closer and yelped when you were roughly tossed behind him as he spun around. The shot nearly left you deaf and the bloodied kukri barely missed your shoulder, having been a hair away from the strap of your dress.

You shriek along with the gargled gasp, latching onto the bounty hunter’s coat. The loud thump that followed made you duck and wrinkle your nose.

“Oh my jeez. Oh my God!” you glimpse from behind him reluctantly, forcing your tightly shut eyes open.

The raider twitched, clutching his blown-to-bits shoulder as a puddle of blood formed beneath him. He choked for air, coughing out a storm of crimson and it made your knees weak. The smell of gunpowder was sharp and overwhelming and your head spun with a nauseating speed.

“Guess I missed one.” the bounty hunter leers and the absolute insouciance at his actions sent a chill up your spine. He unclasps the hunting knife strapped to his belt and twirls it between his fingers, then tosses you a warning glance. “Look away, sweetheart. Ain’t wastin’ another bullet on this shit.”

The heels of his boots clinked closer to the raider convulsing on the floor and with a shaky sniffle, you forced your legs to move. The pleas of a desperate man rendered defenseless and feeble, the churring taunts of his merciless killer who squatted over his prey with blade readied. A sickening noise punched you right in the gut, so raw and revolting that you covered your ears the moment you stumbled into another suite and slid down behind the front door. Clutching at the sides of your head, fingers curled and nails delved into your scalp to ground you, you died a little inside.

The reality of your existence, the consequences for being alive hit you full force, ripping you out of the tranquility that had befallen both you and the ghoul. Peace never lasted, and neither did joy, not in a world bathed in chaos and destruction.

The two curt knocks on the door made you flinch.

“Come on out, scaredy cat.”

“I’ll – ” with a twisted tongue and a clenched throat, you murmur out words to keep him away because you didn’t want to see the blood he was wiping off his knife. “ – I’ll be right there. Just looking…for a false latch or something.”

What a horrible excuse…but he didn’t question it and you were so thankful.

His steps crinkle over broken glass and pieces of discarded metal plates. The tension lifts off your shoulders when he leaves with a grunt. You rub at your face with a timid breath, jaw easing as your lips part to accommodate your forceful inhales. The gloom of the apartment embraced you in your self-indulgent grovel.

To imagine someone lived here only a day ago was to concede to hysteria.

He saved your life again. And still, you were left shaken and bothered and speechless and burdened by what would have happened if he hadn’t been there to rip you away from death’s claws. The possibility of there being more raiders skulking about hadn’t been a thing until this one nearly chopped your arm off. Your arm was still there though, intact and function. All because of him. A dilapidated, volatile guardian angel that looked like a grilled chicken and sounded like a fizzled-out radio station and he meant more to you than anything ever had in your short, secluded life. What were you supposed to do without him when he finally left and you were sealed into a blood-soaked, corpse-ridden underground bunker with just your thoughts as company?

You slapped at your puffed-out cheeks ferociously.

This was fine.

It wasn’t fine, but there was nothing to be done, you’d work with what you had, you’d manage somehow. You had to.

The ghoul whistled you over, loud and clear enough for you to hear even while tucked away safely in your corner. Enough spiraling. You stood and with a determined huff, exited the complex only to see him standing in front of an open door with crossed arms and a tilted head. He noticed you from the corner of his eye and nudged his chin.

“This it?”

You poke your nose inside the spacious room.

It was the vault president’s office, completely untouched and eerily still, made to resemble the quarters of high-ranking officials from the olden days. Thin sheets of wood were plastered over the walls and the floor was carpeted and clean, the large windows overlooked the fields and dining area. An elegant leather chair was neatly set behind the paper-ridden desk in the center of the room, and yellowing files peak from every single drawer and bookcase. Everything seemed organized in spotless order, even the mugs on the coffee table were arranged corresponding to their color. There were so many paintings strewn about, past vault presidents, men and women in distinct white coats, same as the one your dad had always worn, supposedly scientists.

He leaned against the doorframe as you barged inside, watching your newfound zeal with a half-smile.

You pressed the tip of your middle finger to the wall and slowly extended your other arm at a precise angle, then moved it barely to the left. With a calculative spark imbued in your eyes, you take deliberate steps and move your stiff arms mechanically as you work out the location of the hidden storage. It looked ridiculous and you were well aware as you maneuvered about like a possessed puppet, but without any tools to point the way this was your only crutch.

“Three feet to the left, diagonal to the glass case with the cat sculpture. One step back and turn to what should be west. North should be to the right, then. And…”

“There.” you state once your hand points at a particularly overdecorated bookcase. “That’s it. Has to be.” you step towards it with determination, throwing away documents and an old plastic globe until there was enough space to grab at the shelves. It creaks when you give it a solid tug to test its stability. You bite your lip in contemplation before turning back to the ghoul. “Think you can move this, mister?”

“You better be right, sweetheart.” he tutted, but complied, pushing himself off the doorframe before joining you. He towers over you and rests his hands against the polished wood. “Move.”

You did as told and gave him some room.

He managed to slide his fingers against the back of the bookcase and spread out his legs before letting go of a throaty groan and pulling with all his strength. Your knee jittered with the need to step in and help, but you hesitated, succumbing to your manners and letting him do the heavy lifting. The last thing you wanted was to insult his capabilities or hurt his man-pride.

The case toppled with a thunderous crash and its contents spilled over the carpet, some trinkets bounced off your boot and rolled under the desk. The wooden planks that had been hidden behind it were slightly caved in compared to the rest. A thick carving resembling a door was engraved in them along with a small rectangular shape just a few inches to the side.

This was it.

“Hallelujah.” he chuckles and kneads his shoulder while flexing it, brows raised and eyes settled on the hidden entrance and glistening with wonder. “Guess you weren’t lyin’ after all.”

You clumsily step over the mountain of books and smashed wood, arms extended for balance until you’re close enough to press down on the rectangle. With a whirling hiss, the wood slides to the side and a hole perfectly shaped like a Pip-boy appears. You stuck your hand in without a second thought, beyond impatient and on the verge of crying because your ankle was burning so intensely you wanted to just rip it off.

The door gave way with a few audible clicks and the storage lit up instantly, you guessed the lamps didn’t depend on the vault’s fusion cores, another little trickery to keep this place hidden. The power management engineers would have most likely noticed the excess electricity being used for a room that wasn’t supposed to exist. A smart move and also for nothing, everyone was dead.

The cynic in you cackled.

You were quick to rip your hand free and enter, spotting the hefty array of medical supplies gathered over a metal cart, driven by pain and discomfort and lacking the self-control to keep it a secret any longer.

“Well, I’ll be…” the ghoul gapes at the overflowing storage, pleasantly surprised and nodding to himself. “Consider your debt repaid, missy.” he plunges his knife into a sack of tatoes and promptly empties it.

His arm swipes over a metal shelf of stimpaks, greedily bunching them up and into the sack as he licks his teeth at the upcoming profit.

When you don’t reply to his remark he finally takes his gaze off the mounds of supplies and medicine and looks to you.

You’re a mussing mess, abrupt jitters causing bottles of pills and packages of bandages to pile at your feet as you scour for something specific. Initially, he opts to leave you be and focus on his own task, but when a disheartened noise slips past you he caves.

“The hell’s got you scramblin’ about like a cornered rat?”

You wince and turn back with a trembling frown. Your search had come out fruitless, the plan was spoiled at the absence of any antibiotics and you internally cursed for not stopping by the med-bay earlier and checking there first. Then again, you needed a key card and you weren’t fond of checking the pockets of decapitated vault residents just for that. But your open wound didn’t care for your antics. Now your ankle was probably red, still oozing and by how it rubbed against your sock, it was even more irritated and sickeningly sticky.

His stern look was relentless and you sucked in a breath before speaking.

“I can’t find any antibiotics…for my ankle.” you swallow a sob like a child caught red-handed trying to sneak past a broken vase. “The cockroaches – One of them bit me or cut me I think and… And it was fine at first, but then it started getting infected and I thought I’d find something here to help, but I don’t think only spirit will help so I thought antibiotics, but I can’t find any and it hurts so bad now – ”

You halted when his jaw stiffed and did nothing when he stomped close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him. The sack was slumped by you and as he glared you simply averted your eyes to the floor.

“Sit.” he commands in a rigid tone, forcing you on your rump as the coldness of the tile floor seeps through your dress. “ ‘N take it off.” the tip of his boot nudges your foot before he tugs his pants up and squats in front of you with elbows resting on his thighs.

It’s only after you slip off your now-ruined sock that he cringes in annoyance and grabs your calf to turn it for a better view. Angry red outlined the open gash and the dead skin that still clung to it was soaked in colorless stickiness. He pressed on the side of the wound, shooting down your attempt at escaping with a scalding look, and more goo was excreted.

Radroaches were clean creatures, he’d seen them grooming themselves more than hunting for food. However, being mutated by radiation did tend to add some spice to their bites and you trudging around barefoot for a good full day had only added to the accelerated decay. Nasty little cut that was.

“Stupid git.” he hisses and stuffs a hand in the sack. “Nothen’ a lil stimpak can’t fix though. And lucky for you, we hit a goldmine.” the large syringe glints under the blaring white lights and he pushes at the base to snuff out any air bubbles before lowering it to your calf. “Now hold still.”

The sight of the needle makes you stiffen, a plethora of memories flashing past your widened eyes, and you’re overtaken by such a raw desire to get away that you nearly kick him off balance in your struggle.

Too many years stuffed full of constant medications and transfusions and scalpels and cuts and taking blood samples and fucking needles. All your life you’d suffered through nothing but medical treatments and the first day spent away from such hell had you realized just how traumatizing it had all been. Obligated to just take it because there was no alternative, you were never given a choice in the matter. You weren’t ready for this again, seeing that stupid needle so close to your skin made your heart drop in your stomach.

“Wait. Mister, wait. Wait!” you grab onto the metal bars of the cart as his grip on your calf tightens painfully.

“Quit fussin’!” he all but growls and pulls you back in place once you’d made some progress in slipping away. His tolerance for your display vaporizes when you land another inadvertent kick to his knee. He lets your calf go and reaches for the back of your head, grabbing onto a fistful of your hair and jostling you still. He’s right in your face and spitting acid. “What the hell’s wrong with you?!”

“The needle.” you hiccup and wrap your sweet little fingers around his forearm. Tears swell in your eyes from both pain and fear and it does something to him again, but he doesn’t relent. “The needle…I can’t – ” you whimper and plead, crumbling in his hold. “Please don’t, mister…”

He’s taken aback. The menace drains from his gaunt features, baring snarl gone, and his grip on your hair loosens.

“You’re kiddin’ me.” his eyes roll from you to the stimpak as if you’d said the most mind-blowing bullshit he’d ever heard. He dangles the wretched thing in front of you, watching you follow it incessantly, not even blinking. “You’re scared o’ this?”

You make a noise of displeasure and avert your face when he brings the stimpak closer. For once his mocking laugh isn’t welcomed. When he’s assured you’re not just being a brat and actually hold a crippling distaste for the needle, the ghoul pulls away with a scoff.

He thinks, rubbing his knuckles against his jaw while you sit between his knees, immobilized by his grip.

“Well shit...” he lets you go and you bonelessly slump back into the cart.

He’s not one for comfort, doesn’t know what words to use to help you overcome your dilemma; he can’t just jam the stimpak in and risk striking a bone, can’t slide it in gently because you’ll go into another fit. He could just leave…

“Look at me.” he beckoned and snapped his fingers at you. When that didn’t work, he grabbed your face and squished your cheeks, forcing you to obey by giving you a sharp jerk. He leans close enough for you to feel his breath hit your nostrils and of course, it smells like cram. “I said look. At. Me.”

Your eyes go from dazed to bulging when you feel the needle press back against your calf. A pathetic ensemble of bleats accompanies your heaving chest and you hold onto his wrist like it’s the only thing keeping you from dying on the spot.

“Shhhh – shhhh – shhh, ‘s okay sweetheart.” he hushes you with peculiar softness, stifling your meek complaints and scolding your eyes back to his own when he sees your attention dart down to your leg. You wince briefly at the prickle and his pinkie and ring finger leave your cheek and settle at the edge of your jaw, pressing down and rubbing ever so lightly. With an even push of his thumb, the syringe is emptied. “There you go…” he gives your cheek a good pat and leans away, resting on his knees. The pack of gauze you’d carelessly tossed away in your rampage was picked up and ripped open. “The good news is, you don’t need no stitches…but how d’ you intend to survive if you can’t even use a stimpak?”

“I’ll…” you smile in pain and it’s so crooked it rivals his. “I’ll figure it out.”

Tag list: @bountydroid @judgementdays-girl

#cooper howard #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout tv series #the ghoul fanfic #the ghoul x you #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul fallout #x reader #fallout the ghoul #fallout show #the ghoul

[megu-meow]

family ties - gojo satoru

gojo x fem. reader

Summary: Satoru takes you to meet the in-laws.

The Gojo family members mentioned are named after the Zoldyk family, cuz Satoru is the grown-up version Killua. Argue with a wall on that one. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one!

"Please, sweetheart! I've been begging you for four years, it's time..." Gojo implores, running after you in the hallways of Jujutsu Tech like a lost puppy.

"I told you already, Satoru, I don't want to do it. You said it was ok if I didn't because you don't care what they think anyway."

"I know, but now that I proposed to you, my family wants to see you. Especially Ojiisan, he wants to meet the woman who charmed his favorite grandson." he whines as the two of you stop in front of your classroom.

"Toru, you said it yourself, all of your clan members are obsessed with you marrying someone from the big clans. We both know they will not accept a nobody like me." you explain as you rub your forehead. It wasn't that you didn't want to meet Satoru's family, but he was the one to refuse to introduce you to them in the first place. He didn't like the way they treated outsiders and he didn't want you to experience how old-fashioned and downright disgusting their beliefs and traditions were. You were better off without ever crossing paths with them, you were sure of that. However, as soon as he proposed to you, his clan members started pushing the matter, because being Satoru's wife would mean that you would get your own responsibilities in the clan, like attending meetings representing Satoru, when he was away, you would get your own vote in different matters, and lastly, the one you refused to take into consideration, you would become clan head if Satoru would ever be unable to fulfill his duties as such. It was normal for them to wish to meet you, but that didn't make it any easier.

"You will only have to meet my mom, my dad, and my grandparents. They don't care about how you are or what powers you hold as long as you love me. They will not make you feel miserable, I promise." he looks at you with those cerulean orbs that shine like rhinestones, ones you cannot say no to.

"You pinky-promise?"

"Of course, sweetheart." he says and he shows you his pinky, waiting for you to link it with yours. And you do.

The day finally arrives, a sunny Friday in April, as the Sakura blossoms. Ijichi picked up the two of you from your shared apartment early in the morning to begin your hour-long drive to the Gojo estate in suburban Tokyo.

"So your father's name is Silva?" you ask your fiance as you observe the landscape around you.

"Yes. He's kinda scary at first glance, but he would do anything to make me happy."

"Your mom's name is Kykio, right?"

"Yes, good job sweetheart! She's a kind-hearted woman, she's gonna love you for sure."

"Okay, I think I know enough about your family tree." you sigh, you really want these people to like you. You don't exactly know why, Satoru said he doesn't care what they say, he's gonna marry you anyway, but you know he loves his parents and his grandparents. Contrary to popular belief, he grew up in a loving family, he was spoiled rotten by everyone, hence his insufferable personality. However, despite how Satoru claims his family not liking you wouldn't affect him, you know it would. These people are important to him, whether he admits it or not. So you're not going to screw this up by not knowing their given names. Or by anything else.

You get dropped off in front of a massive gate that Satoru opens with ease and you're met with a pebbled road lined with Sakura trees. They are in perfect blossom, there is a sea of pink in front of you. Satoru grabs your hand in his and starts walking down the road, leading you toward where you assume the Minka is.

"Three, two, ..." you hear Satoru count back under his nose and you look at him with confusion, but as you look back to the road ahead of you a person appears, bowing in front of your fiance.

"Gojo-san, welcome back!"

"Amane, long time no see! How are you holding up?" he asks joyfully and you remember him mentioning his name before. Amane was Satoru's best friend at the estate, his cousin on his mother's side of the family.

"I'm doing good. You didn't announce your arrival, the clan is in a meeting right now."

"I know." he smirks. He timed this perfectly and you take a note to yourself to scold him for slacking off. "By the way, this is my fiance, y/n."

"Hajimemashite, y/n-san! Welcome to the Gojo Estate."

"Nice to meet you too, Amane. Please leave the honorifics, makes me feel old."

"As you wish. Please do not hesitate to call for me if you need anything. I will make sure to prepare Gojo-san's bedroom for the two of you." Amane disappears right after finishing his sentence, you couldn't even thank him for his help.

"GOJO SATORU!" you hear a deep voice shouting from afar and you feel goosebumps covering your entire body. Whoever that voice belongs to is frightening as hell. "Not only do you not show your face to a clan meeting, but you have the audacity to not announce me about my daughter-in-law coming to meet me?" you observe the tall, muscular man in front of you as he approaches with inhumane speed. He has long, wavy hair with bangs, the color identical to Satoru's, and icy blue eyes. It is Gojo Silva, Satoru's father. The cursed energy around him has a crazy strong presence, similar to Satoru's when he lets his unleash, but this one feels rougher, slightly colder.

First, he steps to his son, yanking his left ear, which results in Satoru whining like a little kid. The whole ordeal is comical, you know that his father is just messing around. After that, he looks at his son with disapproving eyes, calls him a menace and turns towards you.

"Y/n, yoroshiku! I am Gojo Silva, Satoru's father. You can call me otousan." he bows and you return the gesture with a blush on your cheeks. Satoru giggles, enjoying his father's antics. Despite being a seemingly intimidating person, Silva seems to be just as much of a goofball as Satoru. He asks you silly questions like what is your favorite dessert, how much you can eat and whether you discipline his son when he acts like an idiot. The last one causes Satoru to chirp back at his father, claiming that he called him the other night to 'change the Google logo back to the original'. As you observe the dynamic between the two you have to remind yourself that you're in the presence of the heads of the Strongest Clan in Jujutsu history.

You finally arrive in front of the house and you are greeted by a beautiful woman with dark hair and piercing blue eyes. She looks welcoming in her flowery dress and with her wide smile. Her smile resembles Satoru's, it reaches her ears and it's vibrant, like there is nothing wrong in this world. Her cursed energy is low, even lower than yours, and you're not sure if it's because she is limiting it or if she simply doesn't have much to begin with. Her aura is stronger, it is familiar and welcoming.

"Kaachan!" Satoru exclaims as he walks up to her, embracing the petite woman in a warm hug. She pats her son on the back, her eyes sparkling with the motherly love she reserves for him.

"I'm glad you're finally home, sunshine! Please don't give your father any more headaches while you're here."

"I will not, mother!" he says curtly and he suddenly snakes his arms around your hips, bringing you close to his side "By the way, this is my fiance, y/n!" he introduces you and you bow in front of his mother politely.

"I am glad to finally meet you, Kykio-san!"

"Oh, please, sweetheart, leave the honorifics. You are family, you can call me Okaasan or whatever you prefer." she says with her warm smile.

They all walk you to the family dining room, claiming that you arrived in time for supper. You're being presented with a variety of traditional Japanese dishes and you're more than excited to try everything that you like. Satoru's parents are extremely nice and calm. They ask you questions about your family, your upbringing, about Jujutsu and your time in high school. They claim they already know about every single detail of your relationship with Satoru, apparently, you're one of his favorite topics to mention when he is back home. They tell you stories about their son, how he was while growing up, what he liked and disliked, and how much of a troublemaker he was. You listen carefully to these stories, you want to remember them, to cherish them for a long time. After you finish the dishes, they are serving desserts, a whole lot of them in different assortments.

"Satoru has got a sweet tooth his whole life. His grandmother likes to prepare all kinds of deserts, even western ones so he grew up eating a copious amount of sugar." Kykio explains.

"Y/n bakes too! She makes cookies for me all the time!"

"That's not true, Toru! I've been trying to reduce his sugar intake, so now I only bake once a week." you explain and his parents look at each other knowingly, as they start laughing. You look at Satoru in confusion, but he just shakes his head, signaling that he doesn't get it either.

"Sweetheart, Satoru has been teleporting back home every week to eat desserts from his Sobo." his mother explains and you look at your fiance in disbelief. He acts like he's innocent, smiling at you widely, mouthing 'i love you'. You roll your eyes, but mouth the words back, because otherwise he would throw a fit in front of everyone.

"Where is that grandson on mine? Always causing trouble." you hear a male voice from the hallway and a pair of footsteps. The cursed energy coming from their direction is unpaired, it exceeds Silva's, maybe not Satoru's, but it still makes you uncomfortable.

"Have some decorum, Zeno. That boy has done nothing wrong in his life." a woman's voice is heard and the male grunts in disbelief.

"Typical Sobo Gojo, she always thinks Satoru is perfect." Silva explains and he lets out an obnoxious laugh, very similar to Satoru's. Now you understand where he got it from.

The doors open and you observe the cute elderly woman and the man with hair pointing toward the ceiling on her side. What is it with Gojo men and their gravity-resistant hair?!

"Satoru, do you have any idea how long it took me to convince the clan geezers to let your lady off the hook this time?" Zeno questions and looks at his grandson with an authoritative gaze.

"I'm sorry you had to do that, Ojiisan. I promise that next time, y/n will meet them as well."

"Good! Now come here, my child. I wanna see if my grandson was telling the truth about you being the most gorgeous woman to walk on this earth." he says as he gestures for you to walk up to him. You oblige as he takes your hands into his, analyzing them carefully. "Huh, truly beautiful. Your cursed energy flows nicely and you have a lot of it. You are strong, I like that." he says, drops your hands, and walks towards the table. After that, you are greeted by his grandmother, who scolds you for trying to limit her beloved grandson's insane sugar intake. However, she compliments you on your looks and politeness.

You sit back down at the table afterward, enjoying the moment of being surrounded by the Gojo family. Despite their reputation, they are all nice people. The three generations of men keep teasing each other, grandpa Zeno is a savage, making fun of both his son and grandson, he has absolutely no mercy. They keep telling you stories about Satoru like the time his grandfather shot him in the eye with a Nerf gun despite aiming at his butt. Or the time he was playing hockey inside while his parents were out and he broke the glass on his mother's favorite painting. Luckily for him, Sobo was home and she had the glass fixed before his parents even got home.

You tell them about the time he encountered a cleaning curse and how he smelled like detergent for two weeks. Or the time he wanted to pick you flowers from the forest near Jujutsu Tech, but fell into poison ivy.

The night goes by like that, filled with laughter and family stories. Despite having your doubts about meeting Satoru's family, he observes how you fit right in. How everyone loves you and they accept you for who you are because the love you have for him is evident. As it should be. And he swears that his love for you skyrockets even more that night, despite him knowing that it's nearly impossible.

#jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo satoru #jjk imagines #gojo imagine #jjk x reader #gojo fluff #jjk x you #gojou satoru x you #dad gojo #jjk imganie #satoru imagine #satoru gojo fluff #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #Ren Writes - Gojo ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

[gwennybriggs]

Abracadabra:

Link if you want it:

Or! You can read it here :)

Word count: 1,475

Inspired by a line from a Chappell Roan song that’s been stuck in my head for weeks.

It’s a little spicy, but not too spicy! I’m not super comfortable writing smut, but decided to try it out again since it’s been a few years. Enjoy, cuties!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The birds were chirping and the sun was shining bright when you woke up that morning; you knew it was going to be a wonderful day. You rolled out of bed, pulled on your skirt and blouse, and waltzed out the door to make a stop at the coffee shop down the street. It had become your normal Friday routine to stop and grab a hot chocolate for yourself, and a coffee for your favorite coworker, Melissa Schemmenti. In turn, Melissa would bring a danish for you and a muffin for herself. You weren’t exactly sure when or how it happened, but you looked forward to it every week.

It had been a bit of a stressful week with state testing and the kids were over it just as much as the teachers were. Janine convinced Ava to allow her to set up a talent show as a ‘carrot’ for the end of testing week.

“Carrot? What the hell you mean, carrot? Ain’t nobody lookin’ for a vegetable, girl.”

Janine rubbed her temples, “You know, like when you put a carrot in front of a horse to keep them moving. It’s a little motivation to get people through the week.”

“Whatever. You can have a talent show, just make sure Melissa stays off the stage with her horrific impressions. I simply cannot listen to her butcher The Godfather again.”

You prepared all week to share your magic tricks with the school. Jacob caught wind and asked if you would like to join him in his magic act, claiming that your combined expertise would win you more applause. You reluctantly agreed and spent all of Thursday evening with him at Melissa’s house practicing. It wouldn’t have been so bad if the redhead had been there, but she spent the evening with Barbara instead.

You could smell Melissa’s perfume before you even stepped foot in the lounge and it made you smile. During your first year at Abbott you developed the tiniest crush on her, but at this point, you were flat out in love with the woman. You didn’t exactly hide the fact that you liked her that way, but you never said it out loud either. Melissa had told you she was bisexual but leaned more towards men fairly early on in your friendship when you told her you were a lesbian. After sharing a bottle of wine together you asked her what her type was.

“Big burly men with beards who can take care of me or pretty little ladies who with let me take care of them. What about you? So I know what to look out for for ya,” she responded with a chuckle.

You fought yourself not to reply with a simple ‘you’ and gave her a vague description of herself instead. She raised an eyebrow but didn’t push. The two of you shared some casual flirting over time, but you just chalked it up to her treating you like a close friend.

The lounge was already buzzing when you walked in, everyone talking about what their students were doing for their acts or which teachers signed up. You crossed the room to set your things down before walking over to Melissa to exchange goods. She beamed up at you when you placed your hand on her shoulder and her cup on the table in front of her.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all week, thanks doll face,” she sipped her coffee and handed you a raspberry danish.

“Likewise! Thanks, pumpkin.” You winked at her and took your seat across the room with Janine, Gregory and Jacob, completely missing Melissa’s coy smile in response to the nickname.

The bell rang and everyone gathered their belongings to start the day. You and Melissa were the last ones in the room as you moved things in the fridge to fit your lunch. She came up behind you, resting her hand on your hip for balance as she leaned into the fridge with you to move her containers. You froze at the contact and mentally begged yourself not to blush. As she leaned further down, her hand slid over to your ass. Your eyes were glued to her cleavage, beautifully illuminated by the refrigerator light. You quickly turned your head when she caught you staring.

She stood up, her hand still slightly splayed your ass. Your face was beet red. “No need to steal glances hon, all you gotta do is ask,” she clicked her tongue and made her way out the door, swaying her hips dramatically. She knew you were watching.

More than a little flustered, you splashed cold water on your face and left to tend to your students. The hours ticked by and you struggled to focus on anything other than the feeling of Melissa’s hand on your backside. You were looking forward to spending lunch with her and Barbara, but Jacob insisted you practice with him one more time before the talent show. Between bites of pasta you made coins disappear and reappear from behind Jacob’s ear and cheered him on as he mastered revealing the chosen card.

The entire school gathered to watch the staff and students perform at the end of the day. You took a seat next to Melissa, waiting for your turn.

“You got any hidden talents you’re gonna share with us, red?” You poked at her side.

“Nah, can’t share my talents here kid. I wouldn’t be allowed back on school grounds,” she smirked. “Just joshin’, Ava forbade me from doing impressions so I’m stuck in the crowd. I’m excited to see what youse cooked up for your act though, Jacob hasn’t shut up about it.”

“Ha, I’m sure he hasn’t.”

Janine introduced your act and you followed Jacob onto the stage. The two of you played off of each other’s tricks with the crowd ooh-ing and aww-ing. You had always enjoyed tricking people with sleight of hand, but you enjoyed it even more when you were able to fool an entire auditorium. When the four minutes of fame were over you returned to your seat next to Melissa. She nodded her approval and continued to watch the show.

A few minutes later you excused yourself to use to restroom. The bathroom was empty and you did your business quickly. As you opened your stall door you jumped at the sight of Melissa sitting on the counter. You hadn’t even heard her come in.

“Oh Jesus!”

“It’s actually Melissa, but I get that one a lot.” She slid off the counter to stand next to you as you washed your hands.

“Very funny,” you rolled your eyes.

She moved closer, her breasts brushing your arm. “Yeah, but you like it when I’m cheesy like that.”

Your breathing hitched. “I d-do,” you stuttered and melting at the close proximity.

“So, tell me what else you like, gorgeous.” She was nearly straddling your right leg. Her eyes filled with fire as she brought her hand up to your cheek and traced a finger along your jaw line.

You stifled a whimper and bit your lip, unable to speak without making a fool of yourself. She moved even closer, now actually straddling your leg, you could feel the warmth of her. You placed your hands on the counter to keep yourself upright.

“I know you like magic.” She nuzzled her face into your hair and lowered her voice to a whisper, “I’ve got a wand and a rabbit.” She punctuated her sentence with a light nibble to your earlobe. You gasped; a cold chill ran up your spine and you couldn’t hide the shiver. Her hand on your left hip pulled you in between her legs so that her core was pressed firmly against your thigh.

You squeezed your eyes shut, you wanted her to ruin you right then and there, but the school day wasn’t over and the talent show was about to let out.

“Mel, I want this,” you whined and guided her free hand down to your soaked panties, wanting her to feel exactly how bad you wanted, needed, her. “But we can’t do that here, not now at least. Like you said, we wouldn’t be allowed back on a school grounds.”

She lifted your skirt so you could feel her own wetness through her leggings against your bare skin. “My house, eight o’clock.” Melissa kissed you with such fervor that it made you want to go back on your words. “Bring whatever other magic tricks you have up your sleeve, or in your nightstand drawer,” she winked and playfully smacked your ass as she walked away.

You tried desperately to gather your thoughts and some semblance of composure, your mind racing with the image of Melissa playing with her toys- and you. The redhead was going to be the death of you yet.

#abbott elementary #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #jacob hill #ava coleman #janine teagues #magic tricks #red wine supernova

[terras-domain]

what do you think the sexiest thing StayC Isa would do? (Besides showing off her thicc thighs)

terra's note: Hey anon, took me a while to write this, cuz I have to think of a wild theme but I couldn't make it short enough like I usually do. So uuuh yeah, hope you accept this little short "smut" of her getting railed hehe. Anyways love you all, whoever it is reading this and hope you have a nice day <33 (trigger warning: voyeurism, cum in pussy, stranger sex)

words: 967

Isa one time going out to a water park with the girls, and after a tiring day of going rides and splashing water she rests on a giant floaty, laying down on her stomach while she relaxes on a lazy river. While she lets the stream bring her across the lap of the chill pool, she feels a hand groping on her soft covered ass, causing her to jolt up and look around the area, seeing there's actually a guy that was groping her.

For some reason the guy had zero idea who he did that too, in his mind that was just some random hot chick you would find at a water park. The fact she's alone makes it the more reasons for Isa to be a prey for his lust. Isa, seeing the guy not even flinch after making direct eye contact, tilted her head in confusion and questioned, "do you not know who I am?". The pervert only gave a short reply, "no idea, but your body sure does sing for me." Isa could only shake her head in disbelief. Is Stayc really that underrated? After a little thought, she's pretty stressed from schedule and when else will she ever be treated like a normal woman? She looked at the guy that groped him and left her floaty somewhere she can pick up later. The guy was ecstatic to see Isa still there with him even after practically molesting her.

The lazy river was deep enough to submerge Isa's lower body, so when the guy kept touching and squeezing her round ass, it wasn't visible. It was a slow day sure but there's still people around to see the guy groping her ass. They ended up near a section where they spray mists of water which covers the vision of most people around. The man stopped her, letting the journey around the lazy river to a short pause. "Let's have a little fun baby~" he lowered his shorts, letting his cock out and lead her hand to hold it.

Isa was shocked to feel her soft hands holding such a huge member, out in the open, only hidden underneath the pool of water mixed with chlorine. She had no other choice but to take a step forward to close the gap between them, making sure nobody sees them. "Fuck this is so wrong..." Isa muttered, her voice breathy from anxiety, scared of getting caught. "Don't worry sweetie. Nobody can see us~" the soft yet deep voice from the man reassured Isa to be more calm. She kept her hand moving back and forth on his cock, working it up to make him hard, almost leaking a bit of precum from his cock.

"Oh gosh baby you're a pro at this aren't you?" As the guy endured Isa's soft hands jerking her off, he reached down to her thighs, groping her. It's either the mist is too thick today or the people that went past them were blinded by the two having literal sex at the corner of a lazy river. The fact they haven't been caught yet boost the ego of the man, wanting to take more risks. He turned her around and slowly slide his cock in between her thick milky thighs. Isa yelped, but immediately covers her mouth with her hand, suppressing her moans while the pervy guy keeps doing his business. She can see multiple people crossing paths with them as he fucks her smooth thighs, but for some reason nobody was noticing anything weird about them. The man in heat continues his pursuit between Isa's thick thighs, humping his cock back and forth as he grunted, trying to hold back his load.

"Fuck baby, I wanna cum." He grunted, whispering in her ears so that it won't be heard by anyone else. "What? But then they'll see your cum though" Isa argued, worried as she raised an eyebrow whilst looking at him. It was too late, he couldn't wait any longer. He had to improvise somehow. Last resort, he slide Isa's underwear to the side, and slide in his cock deep inside as he shot his load deep in her tight cunt, leaving Isa to bite her lips, fighting the urge to scream out her moans as her pussy gets filled up. "Fuckkk....." Isa looked back at him, seeing his panting, joyous face from cumming to such a baddie. As much as Isa wanted to punch him in the face and tear his horny dick off, she had fun, so she lets him off. "That was fun~" the man smirked, huffing and puffing to regain his breath. "What's your name cutie?" He asked, trying to hook up for another round sometime else. "oh sorry~ I can't give you my number. I uuuh can't really do that" Isa replied, her forehead sweating as she tries to find herself a way to get out of the river to get back her floaty. "aww why's that babygirl? I promise it'll be worth your time the next time we meet." He countered, pushing his luck to get the girl who satisfied his lustful needs. He wants her again, more and more of that juicy body. "Sorry dude, it's pretty complicated. Search up Stayc, maybe you'll find some answers." She smiled, in a show off manner as she climbed the steps to get out of the pool of chlorine, her thighs jiggle at every step which made the public eye fixated on her for that moment, especially the one that managed to cum in her tight pussy. She walked away, hiding the cum deep in her pussy hoping nobody sees it. "This is one hell of a story to tell Sieun unnie" she sighed, walking away quickly as her steps fades away from the scene.

#kpop smut #kpop nsft #anon ask #female idol smut #isa smut #stayc smut #short ahh smut

[phrandallanton]

ranfren headcannons

I've done everything but posted headcannons and a fanfiction. This won't do. Here's some headcannons of mine! All of them aren't serious so don't take them that way d(>_･ ). Feel free to ask me about any other headcannons I'll definitely give more!

Randal

• if he has any pimples on his face he definitely picks at them untill they pop

• either is really good at math or sucks at math and hates it. (No in-between)(leaning towrds sucking at math more)

• has tear stains on his homework sometimes

• he bathes everyday dispite what people think. (Luther forces him too)

• his hair gets really oily. He has tried to cook with the oil his hair produced once. Nobody ate dinner that night.

• if he's frustrated and you go to poke him he'll scream on top of his lungs, but like the scream that goes from normal yelling to banshee screeching. "stop touCHING MEEEEĚĘƏƏ!!!!"

• gets in a lot of internet arguments about things that don't matter at all ("I think you'll find it's 'whom'.")

• he'd get so mad if he ask you to hold his glasses, and you proceed to carelessly get your fingerprints all over them.

• draws with those "how to draw anime" guid books.

• if he ever took a driving test, he would have already failed the moment he opens the car door.

• loves kraft mac and cheese, double points if it's in shapes of popular marketable characters.

• now thinking of it, if he was a pasta dish he would be kraft mac and cheese.

• bites his toe nails off (gross) Luther tried to get him to stop but he probably does the same thing when no one is around.

• sneezes weirdly. Like..."ah...ah...AH CHOOwoowoowoowoo..." and shakes his head. Or if he's covering it in his elbow it'll sound like a trumpet horn.

Luther

• he can dance but it's weird.

• if you tell him a joke he'll turn it into a life lesson.

• he wins every staring contest. However if your eyes start watering he'll get worried and start begging you to blink.

• treats women (and everyone) with so much respect, but he won't hesitate to punch a women if he really has to.

• *shakes his indext finger* "no no no"

• Randal probably tried to set him up on a blind date, he didn't like that. It was very awkward to say the least.

• genuinely gets happy when there are bagels at the function.

• when asked for advice, it'll sound like he's going to say something really meaningful and life changing, but then does a complete 180. "Oh, you think your ugly? Well people will have their opinions about you and ...well... you aren't the best thing to look at. But there's worst out there ♡."

• I can see him gobbling up some cheese and broccoli.

• has a walk in closet filled with clothes and accessories he doesn't wear.

• he 100% definitely has the goofiest giggle in the planet.

• eats ice cream with his front teeth.

Nyon

• I will stand by this till the day I die, he's really funny. He has a really good sense of humor. But I could also seem him not understanding jokes too. But at the same TIIIMMEE I feel like he'd be naturally funny.

• he knows lots of slang and pop culture due to watching TV a lot and probably quotes stuff in his head. (Maybe out loud if he was talking to you)

• has a lot of opinions, will never say them out loud, even when asked.

• he's the smartest out of everyone, including Luther.

• easily amused. please give him one of those little fishy nightlights. He'd enjoy looking at it so much.

• he's good at card games and Nyen doesn't like that. (Nyen has stabbed him over games of uno)

• has a really funny looking smile. (There's that one drawing in the Christmas comic where he's smiling weird after he saw Luther's reaction to the fire place tape he made for him)

Nyen

• listens to death metal but then listens to a jpop song right after. ("Can't let gang know I fw this")

• good at math, sucks at reading.

• loves hearing about drama and will be nosy.(come on man he loves Judge Judy and romance novels)

• sounds like Tom from Tom and Jerry when he yells.

• he calls himself "The Tom Cat" and (canonically) "Top of the pets in the house hold" which is practically the same as "I'm the alpha" so he's probably has said that.

• sucks at card games. Will legit end up with half of the pack of cards in his hands in the middle of an uno game.

• actually the weakest of them all. (I won't go into all that right now. But I can definitely beat him up in a fight, just sayin.)

•him and Nyon probably have times where they stay up and chit chat for a bit before they sleep, Example (from my old notes I had):

Nyon high on weed:...why do we call oranges..oranges...but we don't call apples...reds..??..

Nyen:....sh*t...you got a point... does that mean we would call lemons: short yellows and bananas: long yellows so it doesn't get confusing?...

*they then discuss this for an hour or so*

• Snores really really LOUD. Sounds like a car.

• oddly very ticklish I bet.

~~~~~~

That's all I have now. It's 2 in the morning and I'm falling asleep. I might write other characters headcannons later.

"I'm going to sleep" -bop it

#ranfren #catmen #luther ranfren #luther von ivory #comic #web series #nyon ranfren #Nyon #nyen catman #nyen ranfren #Nyen #randals friends #randal ivory #ranfren randal #headcanon #Ranfren headcannons #i need to sleep now #yawn

[punkeropercyjackson]

It is beyond dumb and annoying as fuck when people look at characters who're in intergenerational friendships and immediately jump to pedopjacking the older character even if their dynamic is healthy because it blatantly overlooks WHY kids and adults being close friends can be bad.It's not a problem on it's own,the problem is a lot adults don't actually care about kids or are fucking ped0s and the solution isn't not let them interact except relatives fullstop,it's to teach younger how to identify predators so they can stay away from them and pretty much nobody who's insistent on the thing i'm talking about does it!In latino cultures like mine,it's normalized for children and older folks to be close even with no blood relations to form a stronger and safer community and it's also normalized to tell kids that it's wrong for adults to view them sexually(admitedly,this is sadly not universal but there's tons of latino regions where pedophiles are considered not people)

Kids and adults CAN have real friendships but it's important for the adults in them to establish proper boundries and not use the younger person as a therapist and in fact,it should be the other way around because it's the job of older people to be positive figures in younger ones lives they can count on and since i'm an eldest sibling who's always gotten along with their little siblings,i enjoy hanging out with and taking care of younger people and not expecting adult behavior from them because that's what my s/os and adult friends are for!It's also a personal thing for me because i got bullied growing up and had absolute ass adults all around me so this is my way of breaking the cycle of abuse by being the person for my bio siblings and my intergenerational friends i wished i'd had and i see the latter as my siblings too(and vice versa)since it's a culture thing i was raised in to see your friends as the same as family

'Why would an adult be close friends with a kid?That's weird!'Because kids are people with feelings and personalities of their own and not 'puritans' or 'stupid' or 'losers' or 'taking up space' or 'should know better even if they weren't taught better' and some of us reacted to experiencing child abuse by growing up to care about kids because we were once them too and the fact that you'd rather believe nobody could ever love a child in a familial way without abusive intentions says a lot about you with how you treat them in general,hope this fucking helps bitch!!!!

#children's rights #was i a troubled kid?yeah you could say that #child abuse cw #pedophillia tw #grooming cw #child molestation cw #antiproship #siblings tag #me willy and wilmari #me and sammy #eldest daughter syndrome #intergenerational trauma #agere flip #actuallyautistic #actuallymentallyill #blackness #black femme #trans #transgender #xenogender #catkin #dragonkin #ghostkin #plantkin #kidcore #actuallyptsd #pastel punk tag #anarchism #💌 #summerposting

[saltminerising]

I mean... I'm yet to find an aether, auraboa, sandsurge or undertide dragon for myself... in fact I'm working on some aberration projects as I have only now discovered how much I like this breed! And I thought that was just... normal? It confuses me to a great extent seeing people claim that new ancients are throwing them off from engaging with previous ancients when... there's no time limit? Ancients are permanent, forever additions to the site and yet it feels like people treat them as limited events. Why? There's no FOMO to be had, no exclusivity to lose out on, nobody is rushing you except for yourself? Just because your auraboa project wasn't complete when dusthides released doesn't mean you failed somehow...?

🌱

#ancient mystery #frd

[ijzermansdriesen]

Two years later and on the other side of major depressive disorder, I don't remember ever crying for maandag 11:03 like I did today.

#like don't get ne wrong I've cried a lot like A LOT watching Sobbe.. an insane unhealthy amount even #over the littlest of things but #not over maandag 11:03 as far as I can remember #Sander breaking down.. his broken cries in Robbe's arms and I couldn't hold my tears anymore #somehow I relate to Sander much more much much more than I went on the hiatus and it's funny because I already related to Sander more #than Robbe before as well #I just felt what he must feel on a very deep and personal level... to think he can never be loved or be treated normally again to always #feel like a victim of his illness a shadow that's lurking always and can anytime overshadow what little happiness or normalcy he tries to #reach and then have someone to tell you it's okay I'm here you're safe you're good we can and we will get through this together ... #to feel anchored and not like you'd fly off any time to have the stability of a loving caring person even through the worst of times when #you hate yourself #oooffff #a crying mess it made me #the way Sander trying to be strong otherwise but breaks down as soon as he realises Robbe really loves him he's really staying ... #not the cruelty it's the tenderness that makes you break down #just how horrible Britt must have been to him nobody deserves that shit #wtfock #don't know if I want to tag this but I'm keeping travk of my posts this way so anyway tag is bereft of people of sorts

[catboyfurina]

One of the really irritating things about that 'oh QPR is just friendship, clearly you've never had friends, lmao loser' discourse is that (and there are many irritating things this is just one of them) even in QPRs that ARE just friendships with a new fancy label.... like...? There are many kinds of friendship that people just have because it's easier than not. And there are friendships that you think are going to be incredibly lasting, but then they date someone new and suddenly you're no longer a priority. The QPR label lets people attach an intentionality and priority to their friendship that really is not guaranteed..... like also not every QPR is this way etc etc but even when it is Just Friendship T M its still like entirely reasonable to want to use that label to signify that it isn't casual

#beeep #like this isnt to say casual friendships are BAD but for alloros its kinda like. there is a typical way to denote a relationship #is intended to be very lasting and very stable and it has its own special word and its normal to look for it etc etc and #like why are u begrudging aros the same thing. just cus they dont wanna kiss??? ridiculous #<-guy who was having Emotions about how boyfriend is a really nice label cus it lets me know its On Purpose and not just Convenient #but like yeah. idk if im arospec or not im kinda giving up on the having a solid orientation thing cus thats hard but... the knowledge that #your loved ones will move on and find someone they love the most and then in the future youre nobodys priority and u cant blame them but it #hurts. well thats really scary. like constant unrequited love but nobody understands because the unrequited love is friendship and they lov #you like a friend ! except they don't realize how different the intensities are anyway. this was a fear of mine when i was id'ing as aro an #it isnt an unreasonable one i think. also may have been somewhat sponsored by being the Convenient Friend and not ever a Best Friend but #yeah. in conclusion. even if a qpr is just another name for a friendship there is a REASON they want to use that term for it and its not #just lmao shitty losers. its because the world is really hard to navigate alone and people want to signify that commitment ! raaaaaaargh #anyway im probably not fully aro ive decided. like probably the cupio label is not correct like i previously thought. but i think that #people are ridiculously mean to aros and like. kinda treat them like they are stupid????? or childish??? anyway #turns out i may not be aro however i believe in their beliefs (i could elaborate more on that but i suspect im running out of tags)

[unproduciblesmackdown]

take 4: the tension (gulf spanned with incomplete, continuously crumbling bridges) between the perspective of oneself as the Deservingly Epic Winner Protagonist Person who dares to be Out Of Line versus the need to actually completely stay in line within this b/c it hinges on being in harmony with the preexisting hierarchies which will supposedly reward the "merit" of this Actor. while everyone whose existence is Inferior, according to the hierarchies, is defined by being Out Of Line, which these same people resent & respond to, also Staying In Line with the hierarchy, by trying to reinforce the dynamics of these inferior / superior groupings. "everything pathologized about the inferior groups / rejected as what's Wrong with their existence so as to "cause" these dynamics is "take 4" b/c this is from me trying to write about winston quant kid 2 billions like holy shit a series operating on this logic huh, giving this unvarnished expression of this perspective b/c it's assuming (& requiring...) we all have it. winston is constantly responded to as Guy Who's Out Of Line. the "superior" parties who hate him & get to have him as their punching bag / hit with the butt of the joke / at least ignored & excluded, but taken advantage of, but who all have to Stay In Line, how's that going for them even when it comes to the writing, where characters can't do anything if it's too disruptive of the In Universe hierarchy, unless it's a finale zone for a permissable shakeup, where ppl insulating/supporting each other being a bit Out Of Line is not a problem b/c they individually recognize each other's transcendently True worthiness in thee objective hierarchy we all assume exists, but definitely can never disrupt the out of universe hierarchy, e.g. the show decides wendy is the true hero, b/c she deserves to be. taylor has to hire back dollar bill & stand back while wags & wendy take the lead & the spotlight & hate the autistic guy they hired & show up so the Winner, who was written into the show with nothing to do but tell taylor they're not quite as good as wendy & then provide a vagina amidst otherwise being an Everyemployee who fails to even differentiate from an Axe Cap style everyemployee, can announce their winningness detached from anything that actually happened ever.

counterpart to winston's departure needing an audience of people to stand there & stay in line, which on that side of the same coin meant punishing his Out Of Lineness that doesn't even act like anyone bothered to think of [this is one particular preexisting guy. you thought he liked scifi once before you lost interest in even suggesting he has interests, though, will roland likes scifi, will roland wore his own open buttonup as quant kid 2 that'd define the Look, will roland happened to have the facial hair just kept for production b/c who would care, will roland brought the entire je ne sais quoi acting interpretation that made quant kid 2 go from "out of line guy we kill once" to "out of line guy we keep around to kill all thee time until finale 'haha but seriously though' material means pushing him out of the way in s6 & then s7 alike" like hmm] like everyone just spitballed "annoying things! cringe loser things! things that would never happen to me, a deserving winner!!" & put it in as easter eggs as though that would even make sense, much less [you have no other priority?] but like. rian's sendoff didn't do any better for acting like she's a specific character who's said & done things we're meant to remember & have thought about then & now. taylor didn't get to have resolution with philip. they Had to have resolution with wendy that, again, has nothing to do with any/everything prior, except perhaps to contradict it. this is what anyone got for Staying In Line like superior winners. the autistic [annoying arrogant inferior undeserving etc] Out Of Lineness that would be so supposedly admired instead seen as pure Other shit that's projected upon ppl so as to Reject it thusly. couldn't be me!! i'm a winner who will always have Superior ranking in the hierarchy & treated accordingly!!! i Must be!!!! like i must Kill people who seem to be disrupting this, even by acting like a person who assumes they're equal to me despite being Different. there all along like wow winston existing Out Of Line is so powerful. he can harmonize with & support taylor so well b/c they're introduced as being so Out Of Line, up to the inevitable point of breaking out & starting their own thing entirely!!! but while it's like, okay yeah, you Have to reel them back in by thwarting them b/c otherwise they break so far from central men's orbit they exit the series or you have to put Them at the center (imagine...) (plus! the role winston plays in them getting as close to this as they ever can be!) but then in the end taylor's just shortchanged b/c when it comes time to take down a central man as thee main thing all season, series finale style, they should be knocking it out in a few episodes with sacker & philip. instead we focus on wendy given the helm & fucking around all season. after disposing of winston b/c who even needs him for anything, this is Stay In Line times, and to do that we can do nothing w/autistic people but hate them & punish them for being undeserving. but don't worry b/c he doesn't get to be so Out Of Line as to easily cause problems for them & thwart them, b/c he just doesn't. taylor waits around on wendy & tells her she's the best b/c they just do. we are all in line on all of this ourselves so whew, there's no Disruption to notice if that key Alignment is maintained. rian was never holding herself Above winston if we just really tentatively suggest she doesn't think that she was, while letting every double standard at play be acted out. rian being "out of line" was that she wasn't being aggressive enough about any of her Superiority, b/c if you didn't leave bruising then nothing was That Bad; cue the assaults and boundary violations Reserved for the inferior losers as fun times & nothing anyone is beholden to with Consequences, we don't even make the viewer stick with the consequences of how it affects the target a second too long, lest you start to think it's Drama & not Jokes.

anyways it's all about the [categorization as inferior Other based on an assumed Hierarchy = inherently defined as Out Of Line] all "why get a formal diagnosis from a professional who doesn't know what to look for when at age 5 my peers went 'something's wrong with this one' & acted 'accordingly'" like even when people "know" what's Wrong with someone to make them the odd one out / "incompatible" w/what makes others exist Right, it's time to interpret everything else about them as "backing that up" no matter what, certainly no matter if it involves theoretically Valued concepts, b/c it's all first & foremost Staying In Line with the hierarchy, where the correct way to do things is: if you Can push someone else into greater vulnerability while you're established as Insulated, you Do. tl;dr winston inherently continuously Out Of Line; being "superior" requires an ultimate (&/or also quite Immediate. especially when it comes to "simple" matters already "correctly" arranged in the supposed Objective Hierarchy, like: winston's "objectively" inferiority (autistic swag)) Staying In Line. and what comes of it. all the most engaging & complex shit when people get to not actually stay in line. the power of it if taylor & tmc & allies didn't have to ultimately be shoved into Staying In Line even when it means wendy is the best & oh who cares about taylor & philip when wags is around etc etc. if winston being someone Out Of Line was seen as relevant & not an easy nonstop joke. while a quant who is so In Line as to correctly personally abuse him even more than others are doing is so ""out of line"" as to decide she's already gotten everything she wants & may as well live the dream now, b/c she's not an aggressive man, one has to suppose, same diff as wendy getting to believe she's Better than everyone & is nobly in charge of orchestrating their fates when she Means & Knows so well, & is somehow pitted against prince being this same figure but without having to confront that fact. he's mean! or whatever. he's talking about killing people & wendy isn't so that sorts it out forever. "abuse your local autists; it's funny & their fault & consequenceless b/c they're not real people" is also harmonious with all our ideas. edgy rulebreaking bold independent Out of Line heroes completely in accord w/the established hierarchies. & those whose existence threatening peership disrupts it who are written off losers who could never upend those heroes' goings on. everyone Actually being peers is unimagineable, not as a figure of speech. we do not imagine it, what are you even talking about. now for the Merited Hierarchy to be acted out as arranged, which is fun, god i wish that were me. Independent Agents ascending it only!! & people who Cheat to get in like loser nerds w/their math, b/c they can't Deserve it. now to keep insisting that everyone else could just be On My Level if they tried, while also responding violently if it seems like weirdos / ppl who aren't Supposed to be here are infringing on my level (the only violence is physical strikes that made contact, & perhaps killed you)

anyways just another installment of [fake fans haunted by billions, & other things which are in real life, such as the fictional series billions] musings i have to excise at all b/c [this was take 4]. winston Out Of Line. superior correct winners who have to Stay In Line at related great costs despite the supposed associated wins of that. his autistic swag. knowing ppl Are different autism style b/c they're "out of line." encountering irl autistic people without realizing it & repeatedly writing "this nerd guy is just So annoying ugh!! he's just like weird & doing everything wrong for no reason & won't just Be Normal or Shut Up & Go Away!! but at least his intractible arrogant cluelessness also means we have fun punishing & taking advantage of him" Type butt of jokes into things. those cringe loser Insistently Annoying Weirdo nerds who we all find insufferable & punish, we all know them, inherent Inferior Other Out Of Line that they are. now it's a Guy we all hate & enjoy seeing suffer & Understand as a less deserving less [person] just dropped into the periphery of this fiction. he will easily be thwarted from an alliance with the [person designed to be Out of Line in a way that Is considered Legitimate] that would let them shatter the limits of the series in 5 sec which we're also holding them back by the scruff of the neck to prevent anyways while pushing forward ppl supposed to be even More correct b/c uh um they're a little more Normal, & perhaps even Women, who are innately more caring & gentle. there they go hurting those around them as much as they can, with nothing stopping them at all, but they're using their inside voices & not issuing physical threats so that's what i'm talking about. that is heroic, vs the villainous efforts to navigate life as though everyone will respect them as a fellow person which Autists egregiously pull, to which you can do anything you want to Reject this. maybe even decide you wanna personally use them. isn't that nice of you. no, we don't know what to do with the "this guy won't stop acting like he gets to think he's a person" but eventually send him away after the dozen trampled boundaries to punish him for fun b/c what else was the point of him? anyways don't worry i saw the autistic swag. the nonbinary swag it didn't even know was there. the nonbinary swag it knew was there but held back by the scruff of the neck b/c all billions' most engaging, potential filled characters are the ones Held Back b/c they're threatening too much [out of line] / their out of Lineness must be contained; vs everyone perfectly in line who keeps being pushed in front of them no matter what b/c uhhh.

let's go Out of Line gang. continual inevitable Disruption of the norm(tm). like even just standing there vs "oh immediately i fucking Hate this guy." billions where anyone considers winston for 5 sec would also shatter apart. taylor would be too powerful even more than they already are if they didn't have to stay wendy's sidekick no matter what. rian who didn't have to come back from the hiatus even more "right" than they presumably intended her to always be (bound to thee hierachy / actually always Staying In Line. if she's out of it, psych, actually that was just a correction of the "objective" hierarchal order waiting to reconfigure itself around the situation). standing around waiting like okay but the payoff that Could happen....okay still time though lol....well here we are

the fundamentalness of the Out Of Lineness. quantessential....send post

#another [mentally pacing while writing out the saga] moment #winston billions #it's all about the Out Of Line.... #b/c it's all about the hierarchy; & the fact that it's People beneath you = forever being in conflict w/Reality being ''out of line'' #this person talking & taking up space & breathing & Appearing & Behaving & Acting & [Autonomous]ing....no. no!!!!!!! #tmc just so happened to be Weird except also mafee is there but he's too not ''aggressive'' enough for axe cap. or is he!! not that much #all while even in peak tmc times....thee hierarchy! we Hate winston & Will all act accordingly to keep him inferior(tm) #we'll also use him. but not include him as a peer when we can help it. or even acknowledge a ''value'' for having found him Useful(tm) #just like wow really didn't think at all about winston besides [he IS out of line!!!]. ppl can do all That to him & not have it questioned #like hey so long as maybe you do it without....well they did also physically assault him in the end so really no limits obviously #the make or break context? his autistacity means well he deserves it from anyone #whereas if some of those ppl do some of those things to Winners w/the same goal to punish & hurt & coerce? hmm bit messed up #it's not double standards when you objectively buy into it right. if winston was a Good Enough Real Enough person we'd all Love him #however we just all immediately recognize a weird little autistic loser & that's all that is relevant forever somehow! hmm! #most ''out of line'' billions characters unleashed....we deserved this #what a coincidence that at the high points of this; like say; Kompenso; winston is treated the best!! 4x12!! Hmm!!! #irrelevant i said. nothing to see here like there's nothing inside him but Cringe Wrongness. scene over! series over! autists are Others #they power down in nooks & crannies & stop imitating Real People words & deeds when we're not looking so just do whatever #that Whatever means finding it rewarding to go after them & assert power=superior status over them? epic Normal shit. what else is there #rhetorical!! stop answering about like ''nobody's life & existence treated as Less'' #but at what cost? oh so a really epic man can't like pwn people now?? perhaps an epic Woman? all cishet agenda style btw? hell

[mars-ipan]

honestly i don’t really think any mental illnesses have been like “destigmatized”- not fully at least. i think the stigma has just changed from demonization to “that’s not a real problem get over it god”

#obviously demonization is more Actively Harmful #but to say things like depression and anxiety have been destigmatized is. incorrect i feel #yes we are not treated like we’re evil. which is for sure an improvement #nobody deserves to be treated like they’re evil #but our illnesses are now being dismissed. ‘oh everyone has that’ not like me #‘you’re just being lazy’ i wish that were true #like. ok hold on let me use an example bc i’m worried abt reading comprehension on this website #(not my followers i trust u guys but i act as if every post i make will get popular) #my brother is autistic. i have GAD. #my brother was diagnosed when he was 2. he’s faced a lot of bullying from both kids and adults and it sucks and he didn’t deserve it #because of all that bullying (especially as a kid) he’s rejecting his autism and focusing really hard on being as ‘normal’ as possible #i was diagnosed last year at 17. i’ve been having these issues my whole life (my mom and i both saw it) but my issues were dismissed #by all the other adults around me (save for family) because i wasn’t visibly struggling and i was doing well in school #it made me doubt my convictions for a long time. what if i’m wrong? #as such i didn’t seek a diagnosis for a long time until my anxiety had gotten to a point where i knew i couldn’t keep ignoring it #now that i have that diagnosis i’m able to wield it as a weapon. my struggles aren’t made up #they’re real. and they always have been. and i can’t just ‘calm down’ like you can. and that needs to be respected #so while i think one is more actively harmful (bullying and harassment lead to self-rejection and loathing) #the other is also harmful- just passively (constantly being dismissed leads to self-doubt and not asking for help) #also why are people angry about the idea of a mental illness being destigmatized? #one group freeing itself from oppression isn’t gonna immediately forget about the groups who helped them get there #if i’m one day able to get perfect accomodations for my anxiety and nobody looks at me like i’m dramatic when i talk about it #i’m not gonna suddenly stop advocating for mental health issues to be normalized #if anything i’ll argue HARDER. you learned to understand me now learn to understand my siblings #learn to understand those with bpd. with psychosis. the sociopaths. the narcissists. the systems #i’m not gonna act like i have it worse than people who are heavily stigmatized. i’m not gonna get attacked for stuttering at mcdonalds #but that doesn’t mean i have /no/ problems and it doesn’t mean i think i’m better than anyone else #i don’t get why people fight each other about this. it’s a good thing so long as we remember where we came from

[techmomma]

autistic burnout is fuckin REAL, y’all

if you don’t treat it, it will treat you.

poorly.

#this is HALF OF WHY i'm having such a HARD TIME RIGHT NOW #because you can't TREAT IT without ADDRESSING THE MASK #THE THING THAT KEPT YOU SAFE #BUT IS HURTING YOU #SO THEN YOU GOTTA DO THE WORK OF GETTING COMFORTABLE #WITH BEING WEIRD #NOT JUST FUNNY QUIRKY CHARMING WEIRD #BUT THE WEIRD YOU THAT GOT MADE FUN OF AS A CHILD #OR TOLD TO BE QUIET #OR TO STOP BEING WEIRD #OR ASKED WHY YOU CAN'T JUST BE NORMAL #THE SECRET YOU WHO'S QUIET AND SCARED AND NOBODY LIKED WHEN YOU WERE YOUNGER #BUT YOU'VE BEEN THE FUNNY CHARMING FRIEND FOR SO LONG THAT YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT THE SECRET YOU IS LIKE #SO YOU'RE LEARNING HOW TO BE YOU ALL FUCKING OVER AGAIN

[no-one-hears-me]

"you are not immune to propaganda" garfield meme but "you are not immune to the block button"

#i could make this but i don't feel like it rn #and i have no real use for it #it's just funny when people i don't have valuable relationships with think they can treat me badly #like bro.... i don't need you #part of spending my whole life socially isolated means I've never formed any meaningful relationships. which means i don't need them #so i have no problem being independent and alone. other people can't do that #all that to say that losing me is worse than me losing someone #bc i can just move on and live my life as normal. people that value our relationship and are attached to it will be affected differently #and YET. they wanna treat me badly???? okay bye lol #obviously this is irl people nobody here #Sera

[clownpassing]

holy shit i am gonna go crazy

#txt #op #genuinely how does everyone else cope when you have dry spells and you get so so fucking desperate for touch #my heart aches so bad its all i can think about all day every day #i keep going back to that night i drove nick home and he kissed me and grabbed my ass and i get so fucking sad because thats exactly what #ive been wanting for fucking ever. for someone to touch me like they actually want me #but it was literally just because he was crossfaded #he isnt into me like that normally. like when he isnt super fucked up #i wish he never did that because even though i loved it it just hurts more knowing i cant have that #that i cant have him like that #and that nobody in my life will treat me like that #jesus fucking christ i cant do this

[straightfromthetorturedpoetsdept]

honestly, even my bad body days nowadays are so much healthier than they used to be. sure, it's exhausting fighting off your worst impluses but it was even more exhausting back when i had to pretend like i cared about fighting them to begin with and i call that progress

#eating disorders #body dysmorphia #personal #nobody ever really talks about how for a long time you do actually wanna stay sick when u have an ED but god that was literally the worst #part of the entire experience for me having people be concerned and having to fake like i cared about it i still get emotional thinking #about how i could care so little about myself and how capable i am of just absolutely being cruel to myself for no reason #oh i think now that i know im autistic i definitely feel like it was an attempt to control the ableism in my life #but damn it sucks knowing you're your own worst enemy anyways apparently its really normal to like not want to actually get better #and you shouldn't be ashamed if this is you right now but yeah getting to the point where i can recognize i love myself too much to let #myself be treated like that god it was fucking HARD and i resented it a lot at the time i fought it with everything i had

[rileyslibrary]

It’s lunchtime at the military base, and you can’t decide what to eat. Ghost is getting hangry.

———————————————————————

“It’s a simple question,” he says. “What do you want?”

“I don’t know, Lieutenant.”

“Are you hungry?” He asks and lifts his hands.

“Yes, sir.”

“What exactly are you hungry for?”

“I-I don’t know.”

He drops his arms to his sides and sits at the corner of his desk. He touches the back of his neck with one hand while supporting himself with the other.

“Every fucking day, you do this to me,” he murmurs. “If you don’t decide this time, I’ll go eat alone.”

“Oh! Is that so?” You squint and hunch forward at your desk.

“Yes!” He yells as he stands up and walks towards you. “Yes, I will. In fact, I would love to.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, and your jaw drops. How dare he? You’d been teammates for years, sticking with him through thick and thin, never betraying him once. But now he...

“...Would love to?!”

“That’s right!” He snaps and slams his hands against your desk. “So, for the last time: What. Will. It. Be?”

You lean back in your chair and bite your pen while considering your options. Ghost’s gaze darts from you to the pen, then back. He groans and grabs the pen from your hand, tossing it to the side.

“Pens are off the menu today,” he declares, snapping his fingers, “I need an answer. Now.”

Dumfounded, you stare at the pen on the floor. If someone else had done this to you, you would have slapped them in the face. Worse, if he had watched anyone else treat you that way, he would have ripped their limbs off their body.

But he’s hangry. As insignificant as this conversation appears, he doesn’t handle his hunger with the same poise he handles other, more complex situations. Not only that, but your indecisiveness doesn’t help, either. You need to make a decision quickly, so you sit up straight and place your hands on the table.

“What are my options again?” you ask.

“Pizza or burger.” He replies sternly.

“I don’t want piz—”

“Burger it is, then,” he says with a nod. He knocks his knuckles twice on the desk and strides towards the office door.

“W-wait, Ghost, wait!”

He sighs and leans against the door, his hand on the handle.

“I don’t like the base’s burgers.” You mumble.

“Nobody likes the base’s burgers!” he yells. “But we still eat them!”

“I was wondering,” you say and lower your voice, “if there is another choice?”

He’s softly bashing his head against the door, and you try to persuade him that there should be a third option—a vegetarian meal, perhaps. In response, he begins making whimpering noises. He’s the one getting on your nerves now.

“You know what?” you snap, “I’ll go check by myself.”

He extends a hand in your direction and shows you his palm.

“No, no, no, no!” he cries. “You join the others in the queue, and the entire base will starve until you decide!”

You scoff at his sarcasm, and he opens the door.

“Listen,” he says, “I’ll go check and call you, okay?”

“LIEUTENANT!” you shout, but he slams the door behind him. You peek over at his desk. “You forgot your phone...” you murmur to yourself.

The lieutenant was a very cold man when you first met him. His responses were limited to yeses and nos with the occasional shrug, and he never joined you in everyday job activities, especially at lunchtime. You’d always eat alone in the mess hall, and if your breaks coincided with that of Gaz or Soap’s, you’d sit with them and eat lunch together. Ghost would normally sit in the office or hide in a corner around the base and eat since he didn’t want anyone to see him without his mask. But slowly, he came to trust you all with his face, and you’d eat together, locked in your office.

You look at the time. Given his hunger when he left, he should have returned five minutes ago. What if he gave up on you and is already eating with the rest? Sure, your indecisiveness annoys him, especially since he has to deal with it daily, but he’d never let you eat alone, right? On the other hand... he may be trying to teach you a lesson.

You take another glance at the time. This doesn’t feel right. You start cleaning up your desk to head for the kitchen, but someone knocks on the door.

“It’s open,” you announce, “come on in!”

“I’ve got my hands full.” You hear Ghost reply.

You walk up to the door and swing it open. Ghost stands there with a serving trolley full of dishes.

“Thanks,” he murmurs while he pushes the trolley inside the office.

“You forgot your phone!” you inform him.

“I didn’t forget it,” he says as he stops the trolley in front of your desk. “I’d rather put my bare hand in a fire and let it simmer than add a third option to your dilemma and let you decide while there’s a queue of starving soldiers behind me.”

He removes the plates from the trolley and arranges them on your desk. “Here’s the fucking pizza, the fucking shitburger, and the tofu version of the shitburger.”

He places another plate with five pizza slices on his desk. He removes his mask and immediately slaps a piece in his mouth.

“That’s a lot of food, Lt.,” you whisper, scanning the plates before you.

He turns his head towards you and keeps chewing. “Yeah,” he says, swallowing, “better have all the options in front of you than squeeze any reserve of patience I have left.”

You take a slice of pizza from your tray and bite into it.

He stares at you, raises his plate to the sky, and rambles about how “you didn’t want pizza before.” You clarify that, while you still don’t want pizza, it appears to be the best option among the three.

“However,” you continue, “I would murder for a good burger.”

He swallows and takes a second pizza slice from his plate.

“I know a place,” he explains. “We can go tonight.”

“Lieutenant, you smooth operator!” you tease, “like on a date?”

He nods and takes another mouthful. He doesn’t even bother looking at you. He’s too preoccupied with nourishing his massive body to worry about your mocking.

“What kind of a place is it?” You ask.

“It’s a shithole,” he says, “but it does the best burgers you’ve ever had.”

“So, what should I wear?”

He stops eating and aggressively shakes his head.

“Nuh-uh,” he says. “I won’t get involved in your woes again—I’ll give you the address, and you’ll be there at 8 p.m.”

“Are you going to email me the menu so I can decide what to eat ahead of time?”

He swallows and looks at you. “I wouldn’t worry about that,” he says, taking another bite.

“Why?”

“Because there’s no menu at my place.”

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