#it just gets me thinking why do i even bother posting things

[gojoest]

the one with the role play — gojo satoru

— your husband breaking character during role play after you mention the one thing you shouldn’t have

suggestive, MDNI, established relationship (you’re married), written with f! reader in mind but think i kept it pretty gn, alcohol (nobody gets drunk, just a super quick mention of it as a choice of drink at the bar), strangers at the bar role play (or a failed attempt tbh), based on this talk post of mine, wc: 1.3k

“hey, love”, satoru broke the silence while the two of you were folding the laundry one afternoon. (yes, the strongest sorcerer always helps his wife with chores)

“say, love”, you quickly responded, without looking at him.

“you know, i was thinking — we’ve never tried role play”

“that’s what folding clothes made you think of?”, glancing at him you chuckled, “interesting”, raising an eyebrow teasingly.

“we’ve done pretty much everything but that. you’re not curious?”

now was not the time to tell him that you had done this before, with your ex, and that it was fun. no need to remind him that you had other partners before him and make him lose sleep for days to come, like that one time when he found your diary from high school in the attic and read about all the crushes and boyfriends you had. it took weeks and a lot of coddling on your part (you even had to start a satoru only diary and write his name into little hearts) for him to get over it. so you figured you’d keep this little detail to yourself and take it to the grave. or it would be your husband taken to the grave due to lethal jealousy steaming from the fact that another man had laid his hands on you in the past.

“s-sure”, you stuttered, thinking back to that excruciating memory, then cleared your throat before continuing — “yea, we can do that, why not”

“good then”, he tossed the shirt in his hands aside and stepped closer to you. circling his arms around your waist from behind — one hand eventually resting over your chest while the other stopping at your navel and gently rubbing it — he possessively pressed you against his chest and hummed contently.

“someone’s very excited about this, huh?”, you placed your hand over his and tilted your head back to peek at him.

“oh? can you tell?”, he grinned, playfully pushing his hips against you.

“that giant thing in your pants poking me from behind is giving you away, i’m afraid”

“it’s your fault though”, his head craned down so his lips could reach your forehead and trail soft kisses down to the tip of your nose.

standing on your tip toes you raised your hands to cup his cheeks and pecked him on the lips. “of course, it’s my fault that you’re getting all hot and bothered in the middle of the day like some pervert”

“i always get hot and bothered thinking about you”, he pecked you back, then slowly turned you around (concerned that you might hurt your neck if you kept that position up).

“any ideas?”, you asked.

“8pm, the bar around the corner”

“we’re to enact the classic strangers meeting at the bar, huh? okay. anything else?”

“nope, let’s improvise”

[8:13pm, at the bar]

sitting alone on the stool at the bar counter, you kept playing with your now half empty martini glass, drawing circles with it on the surface. you felt a bit weird sitting here pretending to be single and ready to mingle. but oh well.

he was late. you took another sip of your drink and grabbed your phone to check the time again.

“next one’s on me”, a painfully familiar voice approached you from behind. “if you would allow me, that is”

he was late on purpose, you figured. waiting for you to almost finish your drink so he could easily start a conversation by using such a lame but still quite effective line.

“i don’t normally accept drinks from strangers”, you gazed at him, “but an exception every now and then wouldn’t hurt, i assume”

a puckish smile curved on his lips. “may i?”, taking his sunglasses off, he asked for your permission to sit next to you.

“sure”

you were quite impressed at how seriously he was actually taking this, not breaking character even for a second so far. he had made up a brand new persona of himself, introducing himself as “sato kouya” — the ceo of a leading pharmaceutical company, temporarily living in tokyo for the purpose of a big business project.

“enough about me though”, eyes focused on you, he leaned his elbow on the bar counter and placed his chin on his palm. “tell me about yourself — what’s a beauty like you doing alone?”

you giggled (he was just so cute right now). “you’re lucky that i am alone — if we had met a week earlier, i would’ve still been married”

his expression froze at your words. the smile from a few seconds ago was now bleeding into a confused, almost creepy, look on his face — his lips still stretched into a grin while his eyes told a different story.

“hmmm… how so?”, he spoke in a monotone, his grin slowly fading away.

it would be a lie to say his weird reaction didn’t concern you at all but you decided to brush it off, and continued. “you see, i just got officially divorced. my ex husband and i tried out best to keep the marriage going for as long as we could but we were simply not meant to be”, you sighed. “this was the best for both of us”

“no way”, satoru whined. “no fucking way”

“umm… excuse me?”, you tilted your head in confusion.

“i don’t like this”, his face giving you a dejected grimace — brows knitted, lips pursed into a pout and eyes filled with a mix of panic and sorrow taking over the blue in them and turning it into a darker shade. “divorced? not meant to be? don’t even joke about this”, he almost cried out. the thought alone rubbed him the wrong way, tugged at his heartstrings so intensely that it forced him out of character right then and there, putting an end to your little role play escapade (rip sato kouya, you will be missed).

“satoru”, you caressed his hand, “baby. love of my life. this is just an act, please get it together”

“oh”, he gasped in utter shock after his focus fell on your hand and he noticed you were not wearing your ring. “you even took your ring off? why would you do that?”

great, this was getting worse now.

“because of the role play”, you spoke each word slowly, stressing on the last two very carefully.

“but i’m still wearing mine”, he protested, pointing at his ring, “see? you could’ve still acted fine with your ring on and without bringing up divorce and not meant to be’s”, he cried again, a hangdog look splattered on his face.

“i didn’t want to play the cheating wife, that’s why i took it o—“, you were cut off by another dramatic reaction.

“cheating? CHEATING? you considered this scenario?”, his voice was hitting desperate notes at this point. you couldn’t believe he had lost all reason over a play pretend.

you pinched the bridge of your nose before you spoke, “okay, that’s enough. you’re being ridiculous right now. i’m going home”

he followed after you like a kicked puppy, whining all the way home. but you had to admit — part of you really loved the fact that he went completely out of his mind over something so silly, that he didn’t know what to do with himself just thinking about you possibly leaving him even in a made-up scenario, that you held so much power over him…

extra:

[later that night, in bed]

done reading for the night and ready to sleep, you placed your book on the nightstand and looked over at your husband sitting with his arms crossed next to you in bed.

“still not over it?”, you nestled your head on his chest.

“no. hurts like hell just thinking about it”, he mumbled.

“come on, stop pouting”, you pinched his cheek, “you can’t go to sleep with a grumpy face”

“yea?”, he glanced down at you, “sit on it then — it’s the only way to wipe that pout off of it”

#ઈઉ — ai writes #[ ♡ ] — satoru #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x reader

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part VIII / Part IX

(Completed) Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: PLEASE READ, we have reached the end of their journey and I am so sad/happy/excited about it. I don’t even know how to feel honestly. I just want to thank everyone who has commented, messaged or reblogged this story. Your kind words and funny little depressed memes have been really uplifting for me. I was actually considering just giving up on this blog when I posted the first chapter. I haven’t had much inspiration lately or interaction I feel like, and you all have helped reignite that spark within me. Summary: There’s something keeping you tied to Cooper Howard, an invisible string wrapped around you both. You’ve fought against it as long as you could but he’s not gonna let you fight for much longer.

It’s been a month and the bounty on her head gets bigger everyday. Normally the compound hires privately, they don’t like going through the agencies. He figures with Sylvie dead they’re struggling to find a new leader and they’re falling apart. Or they’re just desperate for her head on a stick. 

He sees her face everywhere, crudely drawn images of her varying in their accuracy. In some she has a hat like his on, in others her nose is the wrong shape, or her eyes are all wrong. No one seems to have a good grasp on who she is. Out of curiosity and a strange need to know she’s still alive, he’s asked around. 

There are different rumors as to where she’s hiding out. Some think she’s taken to hiding out in the caves near Filly. Anyone with half a brain knows that the area’s overrun by irradiated bears and other mutated freaks. 

There are those that say they’ve seen her wandering through the sands. Following that lead had led him nowhere. He doesn’t know where she is and it’s driving him insane. She’s like a constant itch in the back of his mind that he just can’t scratch. Days and nights are spent thinking about her and he hates it. 

He’s not sure what he’d do when he does find her. Whether he’d shoot her to repay the favor or just tie her up to keep her from leaving again. He’s conflicted on how he feels about her. He’s bothered that he feels anything towards her at all. And he knows that when she shot him, she was shooting to kill. 

She had no way of knowing that he would heal from that bullet. She’d watched him bleed out on the ground and left him for dead. He was impressed, as much as he wanted to be mad, he was almost proud in a way. 

Throughout their tumultuous lives and times together she’d always had to be guided by him. He’d shown her the ways of whatever world they were living in. She’d relied on him and he enjoyed it. The time had to come when eventually she wouldn’t need him anymore. 

It’s outside of Filly that he finds the most accurate poster of her so far. She looks like she did in their first movie together. A proper outlaw, wanted all across the Wastelands for her crimes against a bunch of sick fucks. If he could kill Sylvie again, he would. He’d kill all of them. 

Not that he’s condemning them because of what the compound’s doing. He’s dabbled in organ trade before, eaten people, he’s done a lot of fucked up shit. But he draws the line at trying to hurt her. He’s the only one who should be allowed to fuck with her.

He takes the poster down and whistles softly at the price under her name. It’s enough to keep him happy for a longtime. If he never wanted to take on another bounty he wouldn’t have to. Course, he was never in this for the money. A man’s gotta have something to entertain himself with at the end of the world. 

He wonders if she’s even still alive. Maybe a Deathclaw got her a day after she left him behind. He could have walked past her corpse and never even known it. He folds the poster up and slips it in his bag. He doesn’t know why he bothers keeping it. Possibly because it’s the closest thing to her that he’s got, but he doesn’t feel like lingering on that thought for long. 

He tugs his hat lower on his head and heads through the tunnel leading to Filly. He’s caused a lot of issues here over the years. Usually he kills most of the people who could identify him as an instigator, but he doesn’t feel like pushing his luck today. He needs more supplies and he knows Ma June won’t sell to him if he causes a fight beforehand. 

It’s louder than normal today, more people rushing around. They’re all congregating around something in the center of the marketplace. He turns to the left, heading up the stairs to try and get a better look at what’s got everyone so excited. 

“They found her!” A boy shouts, fidgeting in his spot next to him. He glances at him from under his hat and the boy pales before scurrying away from him. His lips turn up in a cruel grin and he finally gets a good look at what’s happening. 

She’s kneeling in the middle of the marketplace, two Knights on either side of her. He’s more surprised by the fact that she actually has picked up a hat in her time away from him. 

She seems to be playing into the outlaw routine more than he thought she would. 

You’re embarrassed, honestly, that you let these two idiots capture you. Them and their useless little squires. 

You’ve found odd jobs through the Brotherhood when they need assistance looking for relics of the old world. Though, you’re really not sure how much use a toaster oven can be to them, but they pay good money for it. 

Once your bounty was posted and they figured out who you were, though, that stopped being useful. You can’t even hunt bounties because the agencies would just grab you and turn you over to the compound.

They clearly didn’t give a shit about women, you don’t get why they’re making this whole Sylvie situation such a big deal. 

You had to bribe Ma June by buying some of her junk, but eventually she’d helped you find some work in Filly. The people here are stupid enough that they don’t recognize you when they see you. Most of them are high or drunk so the only thing you have to worry about is wandering hands and not stepping in the middle of their brawls. 

From the patrons of the bar you hear stories about yourself. How you slaughtered the entire compound, even the children, which is so far from the truth you can’t help but scoff. Or how you apparently slept with a ghoul and you're carrying his mutant baby. 

You don’t even know where they got that one from. 

They also seem to think you wander through the sands, shooting anyone who gets in your way. It’s a comfort that no one seems to have caught onto you yet. But it’s also disheartening to know that all that’s left of civilization is a bunch of psychopathic idiots. 

What happened to natural selection?

You know your stint in Filly is up when two Knights walk in, their squires struggling to carry their bags behind them. You pull your hat further over your head and duck behind the bar. You try to keep your back to them and let the old man, Marley, who runs the bar deal with them. 

His shaky voice is cautious as he greets them, “What are Knights doing so far out here?”

One of their distorted voices rings out through the, now quiet, bar. “We got bored. Wanted to shoot some shit.”

You roll your eyes and focus on cleaning the cup in front of you. You spit into it, not enough water to properly clean it, and scrub at it with a stained towel. Marley hums, clearly displeased with the answer. You can hear his tottering steps approaching you and wince, praying he’s not going to do what you think he is. 

He tugs on your shirt with a shaky hand and you slump forward in defeat. “Deal with these jackasses,” he mutters, taking drinks over to a different table. 

You pour the only alcohol the bar has into two cups and keep your head down as you approach. “Heard that a woman took over for Knight Damien.”

One of them scoffs and shakes his armored head, “What the fuck is this world coming to?” You don’t know how they’re planning on drinking their liquor with the helmets on but you’re not going to ask stupid questions. You drop the cups in front of them, but your hand slips and one of them tips over into a Knight’s lap. 

“I’ve got it, sire.” Their squire lunges forward and begins vigorously scrubbing their armor. Your face curls up in distaste and you’re about to walk away when a metal hand grips your wrist. 

“Holy shit, it’s her!” Oh, you’re so screwed. 

They’ve got a fucking leash on you, it’s humiliating. The scarred and dirt-covered faces of the citizens of Filly surround you. They’re all leering, shouting at you and begging the Knight’s to share in the bounty. But the Knight’s aren’t listening, they’re just congratulating each other. 

“What do you think they’ll give us?”

One of them shoves their squire and he goes toppling into his large bag, feet flailing in the air. “Hopefully better fucking squires. I’m getting sick of this one’s stupid face.” 

The squire kneels down and shouts in a shaking voice, “I’m sorry if I’ve disappointed you, sire!” God, you really hate these people. You wished they would just shoot you. Having to sit here and listen to them talk was making your brain go numb. 

The Knight’s distorted laugh rings out through his helmet. The other one glances over at you, “What do you think she did? I’ve never seen the compound this pissed off.”

“I dunno. Hey!” You know he’s talking to you, that they want an answer, you really don’t care to give them one. “What’d you do?” They stare at you for a moment and then he sighs when you don’t respond. He shoves his squire towards you and the kid goes stumbling over his feet. “Make her talk.”

He nods rapidly, head bobbing up and down. “Of course, sire.” Your hands twitch to your side and you give him a wicked grin as he approaches. 

He’s debating going down there and trying to help her when the first shot goes off. He doesn’t even see it happen, he just watches as one of the squires drops to the ground. 

Those who don’t want to get caught in the crossfire are quick to move away from the area, hiding in their shops or shoving past him to get through the tunnel. He heads down the stairs, taking his time and trying to figure out where the shot came from. 

The second squire moves towards her and his head flies back, a hole between his eyes and his brains splattering across the ground. One Knight shoves the other one and points at their dead squire’s, “Did you not take her fucking gun?”

He’s been in those suits. He remembers how it felt, the power you get from being in them. How they make you feel like a big man. He also remembers how fucking slow they could be. She’s on her feet and running for cover before they can even start to grab her. 

She dives behind a stall and tugs a knife out of her boot, sawing at the ropes around her wrists. He can’t reach her before the fighting starts. Someone in the remaining crowd shouts, “Grab her! Get the bounty!” And all hell breaks loose. 

Someone runs at him and he shoots them before they can grab him. Shots start going off, the Knight’s mowing down anyone who tries to swoop in on their bounty. Everyone else is shooting blindly, just trying to get rid of the competition so they can claim her bounty as their own. 

He ducks under the hail fire and slides next to her as she’s reloading her gun. She glances over at him and frowns, “Didn’t I kill you?”

He hears a shout and watches as some half-feral woman charges at them. She shoots her dead and turns back to him. He gives her a wry smile, “You want to do this now, sweetheart?”

She peers over her cover and surveys the chaos going on around them. She sighs and glances back at him, “Why aren’t you dead?” 

He tugs one of his specially made bullets out of his bag and loads it into his gun. He lifts himself to his knees and aims at the weak spot on the Knight’s chest plate. They both watch as blood explodes out of the neck of the power armor, the Knight’s friend cussing as he watches him die. 

“Next time,” she turns to look at him, “aim for the head,” he instructs. She glares at him before making her way to Ma June’s shop. He follows, not willing to let her out of his sight again, and she ducks behind the barrels of supplies in front of the shop. 

“Clearly,” she winces as the Knight’s gun starts firing off again, “I’m not making it out of here on my own.” They dive to the side as bullets rip through the barrels they’re leaning against. They’re not gonna have cover for much longer.

He grins at her, “Sounds like you’re asking me for a favor, darling.”

The sounds of screams and bodies dropping is nearly deafening. A few feet away a bullet catches a man in the throat and he drops to the ground. They watch as he chokes on his blood and tries to claw his way to safety. Steps rapidly approach them and she turns to shoot a different man, his body dropping an inch away from them. 

He turns back to her and his lips turn down, “After you tried to kill me? You want my help,” he laughs at her and she glares. 

Before she can speak a voice rings out above them, “I got her!” He shoots at the woman on the upper level above them, half of her leg gets blown off and she tumbles over the railing, narrowly missing the pair. 

He turns back to her, “You’re asking a lot, darling.”

“You’ve fucking shot me, twice. I’m not asking you for anything.” Her lips turn down in a sneer and she looks at him like the very sight of him disgusts her. “I don't need your help. I don't need you.” She glances back over her shoulder, surveying the gore and the bullets flying around them. She checks her gun and he sees just how little ammo she has left. “I’ll handle this myself.” She snaps the chamber of her gun closed and moves to get up. He grabs her wrist and yanks her back down, ignoring the angry expression on her face. 

“Look, you might not want my help, but you need it, sweetheart. Just stay here.” 

You watch as Cooper runs off, his guns firing before he’s even fully standing. You only wait a second before you’re running into Ma June’s and out her back door. She shouts at you as you barrel through her shop, knocking over her displays and shelves, but you can’t waste any time getting the hell out of dodge. 

You’re surprised Cooper was stupid enough to think you would actually wait for him. The Knight’s had called for an air evac out of Filly and if you stay there any longer you’ll be back in the compound before you can blink. 

You’ve spent a month evading them, you’re not about to let yourself get caught because of Cooper. 

You can’t believe he’s not dead. It’s not like you’ve been losing sleep over killing him, but it’s been hard to cope with the fact that you killed the man that was once the love of your life. Seeing him again, though, you wished you had shot him in his smug face. 

You’d forgotten, in the time apart, just how condescending he could be. He seemed to think you needed him to survive. You didn’t. 

At best, he provided the comfort of company. Poorly. 

Despite how much he undervalued you, you were perfectly capable of taking care of yourself. You didn’t need him to save you. You would have figured your way out of there on your own, eventually. You’ve handled yourself a month in the Wastelands without him. You learned how to carve an existence for yourself out here and you did it without help. 

You race into the woods beyond Filly, putting as much distance between you and the sounds of fighting as quickly as you can. The trees around you begin to shake, the ground vibrating and a swirl of dirt and leaves rises into the air and whips you in the face. 

You look up and begin pushing yourself faster. One of the Brotherhood’s Vertibird’s is circling Filly. “This is not a hostile landing! Please remain calm!” You blame your distraction on the announcement. 

You would have heard him coming up behind you if you hadn’t been listening to whatever the Brotherhood was saying. Rope loops around your arms and you’re yanked backwards. Your head thumps painfully hard against the forest floor, rocks scraping you as you’re dragged across the ground. 

Cooper’s face appears over yours, a cruel smile on his lips. “Now, this seems awfully familiar.” He walks around you, boots straddling your waist and grabs you by the front of your shirt, yanking you back to your feet. “I thought I told you to stay put, sweetheart.”

You frown at him, shoving your leg up between his. He groans, doubling over while you shimmy out of the loose rope. “Honestly, after all the shit that’s happened you think I’m gonna listen to anything you say?” You step back from him, brushing the dirt off your clothes as best you can. 

You sigh in frustration when you realize that when the Knight’s had grabbed you, you’d lost your supplies. Cooper looks up at you and scoffs, “Missing something?” You eye his bag on the ground and start to go for it. He pulls the hammer of his gun back and you glance towards him. You’d forgotten what a quick draw he could be.

He’s fully recovered now, eyes narrowed in on you and gun pointed right at your chest. “See, a bullet to the chest might not kill me, but I reckon it’ll do a hell of a lot of damage to you. Why don’t you back up for me, sweetheart?”

You let go of his bag and slowly back away from him. He keeps his gun trained on you and stoops down, throwing his bag back over his shoulder. Your eyes dart to the hat on his head and your lips curl up when you spot the hole you’d put in it. 

Two hundred years and he’s kept that hat nearly pristine, you take no small amount of pride in being the one to ruin it. 

“The Brotherhood will be swarming these woods in a few minutes. They’re not gonna be too happy about one of their Knight’s being dead. Come with me, I can help you out.”

You scoff, “Like I’ll ever trust you again. You’ve shot me, sold me, and left me for dead, Cooper.”

He huffs, eyes narrowing and lips curled in a sardonic grin. You can tell he’s getting pissed off. “The choice is yours,” he tucks his gun back in his holster and turns on his heels. You watch in surprise as he stalks away from you. You had fully expected him to put up more of a fight, it almost hurts that he left so easily again. 

Then you hear the sounds of orders being shouted behind you. Metal creaking and stomping through the underbrush and you realize he hadn’t left but forced you between a rock and a hard place. You could follow him or let yourself get captured by the Brotherhood. 

“Fuck,” you mutter under your breath. You risk a glance over your shoulder and spot a rapidly approaching party of squires. You run in the direction Cooper went and find him leaning casually against a tree, a satisfied look on his face when he spots you. “Don’t say a word,” you warn, shoving past him. 

He glances at her from across the fire and finds himself feeling almost at ease for the first time in a month. It’s been a while since he’s looked up to actually find her staring back at him. She might look like she wants to kill him, but she’s here. 

“You have to admit, we make a pretty good team, darling.”

She gives him an unimpressed look, “Yeah, Cooper, we’re so great at murdering people.” She looks over to the dead bodies of the raiders they’d stolen this camp from and shakes her head. “I forgot how much death you surround yourself with.”

“I surround myself with? Might I remind you, you fired the first shot, sweetheart.” Granted, he had shoved her out of her hiding spot and given her no choice about it. 

Her head shoots up and she glares at him, “You made me!” She opens her mouth and he grins. He enjoys provoking her like this. Even if the last time he had she’d shot him because of it, but it’s fun to rile her up. She always gets so pissed off, it entertains him to no end. 

To his disappointment, she closes her mouth and shakes her head, choosing not to engage with him. He sighs and rips off a piece of jerky. “When did you turn into such a wet fucking blanket?”

Her eyes flare with anger, despite that, he can hear how hurt she really is. “Maybe when you sold me!”

He tilts his head and runs his tongue over his teeth, “You ever gonna let that go? I told you it was a mistake. How was I supposed to know they were gonna breed you like a prize pig?”

She scoffs, the noise high pitched and shocked. She shakes her head and stares at him with wide eyes, “You are unbelievable.” He shrugs and takes a swig from the flask he’d stolen off one of the raiders. He’s not sure how they make their alcohol, or if they trade for it, but it’s fucking disgusting. He frowns at the flask and drains the rest of it before tossing it into the woods behind him. 

She sighs and runs a hand over her face, her voice tired as she asks, “What’s the plan here, Cooper?” 

He picks at his teeth and shakes his head, “With what?”

She leans against the log behind her and gestures at herself. “With me. What, are you going to wait for me to pass out so you can tie me up and send me back to the compound? I’ve seen the price on my head. I know how valuable I am to everyone in the Wastelands.”

He doesn’t know why what she’s saying bothers him so much but it does. “You really think I’d send you back there?”

Her face is devoid of anything as she responds, “Why wouldn’t you?”

It’s the bluntness with which she asks that, that bugs him. Like there’s no other possibility but him betraying her. Taking advantage of her while she was vulnerable and weak and then handing her over to the people who want her dead. He wouldn’t do that to her. 

He didn’t go through all this fucking trouble to find her just to lose her again. He wants to tell her as much but she’s on her feet and grabbing her bag before he can. “Look, I appreciate the help today, but I’m not interested in starting this partnership back up again. I think it’s better if we just part ways.”

He whips his gun out before he can think about what he’s doing. She freezes, still bent over and eyes his gun warily. “I’m afraid that’s not an option, darling.” He can’t let her leave again. And maybe this isn’t the best way to go about it, but he doesn’t know how else to stop her. 

“You gonna shoot me, Cooper?” She whispers, her own hand twitching for the revolver at her side. He stands up and grabs her wrists, ignoring the way she struggles against him. He binds her hands with his rope and he sits back down, 

“I’m not gonna turn you in and I’m not gonna shoot you. But you’re not getting out of here that easy, sweetheart.”

Her eyes narrow in on his, her fists clenched tightly in anger. “I killed two men with my hands bound today. What’s stopping me from killing you?”

He shrugs, “Nothing. There’s nothing stopping you, just like there’s nothing stopping me. But I’m not killing you, am I? See,” he leans forward, “I’ve fought too hard and spent too much time looking after you to just let you go now. We’re in this together, whether you want it or not.”

Her lips split in a sneer and she throws herself down on the log. “You’re all the fucking same. You treat me like a goddamn dog that needs to be beat into submission. I’m not some misbehaving pet, Cooper!” Her eyes well up and her voice breaks, “You don’t get to just leash me and expect me to be okay with it.”

“I’m under no illusions that you’re happy here, sweetheart.” He runs a hand down his face and she shakes her head in disbelief. 

“Then just let me go,” she’s bordering on begging now and his chest squeezes the longer she stares at him with those pleading eyes of hers. It’s not something he’s familiar with, this feeling, this longing for her to just shut the fuck up and stop making this so damn difficult for him. 

“I can’t,” he mutters, wanting her to just drop it. 

“Why not?” She snaps, dropping any pretenses of trying to get him to sympathize with her.

He surges forward and grabs her by the jaw. Her eyes widen in shock and he smashes their lips together, teeth clashing painfully. There’s nothing gentle or sweet about this kiss. Her teeth are ripping into his scarred lips until the taste of copper is spreading on his tongue. He groans, digging his fingers into her cheeks until her lips part. 

His tongue probes against hers, the taste of his blood spreading into her mouth as well. She whimpers, the noise stirring something in him he’d forgotten about. There’s an old desire bubbling in him that’s making him blind to the rest of the world. He wants her, more than he ever wants to admit. 

He’s wanted her for a long time before this and they both know it. How hard he’s fought against it, against moments like these. He didn’t think he was still capable of this feeling, this desire for her. But it’s consuming. She’s ruining him, running him in circles until he thinks he’s going insane. 

But it’s not the same gentle passion it once was. It’s as twisted as he’s become. The desire to possess, consume, covet until she’s his and only his to do with what he wants. His teeth dig into her, letting her blood overcome the taste of his own. He groans, his free hand grabbing her waist and yanking her closer. 

She tastes so much sweeter than he does, he wants to rip a chunk of her off and eat her whole. He’s so distracted he doesn't even notice her pulling out her gun until he’s shooting back from her. He lands roughly on the forest floor and groans, hands clutched over the bleeding hole in his gut. Pain radiates through his abdomen and he rolls onto his side.

He looks up at her in shock. She’s spitting their blood onto the ground, her bound hands wiping at her lips. “Asshole,” she mutters. She tucks her gun back in her holster and looks over at him. 

His eyes are wide in disbelief as he struggles to sit back up. The movement causes another wave of pain and he hisses through gritted teeth, “You shot me!”

She rolls her eyes and gives him a blank look, “You’ll live.” He limps back to his own seat and lifts his shirt, watching as the hole closes over slowly and the blood stops leaking. She watches as he heals and sighs, “Unfortunately.” He tugs it back down and sighs at the state of his shirt. 

“My shirt won’t.” He digs a finger into the hole and tugs on it, watching as it rips wider. Two hundred years he’s kept these clothes, she ruins them in a month. Un-fucking-believable. 

“Sew it,” she gripes, still wiping at her mouth. “I can’t believe you just fucking kissed me,” she frowns and spits again, bits of crimson lingering on her lips. 

He sighs and leans back against the tree. “Felt right in the moment.” It did, he wants to do it again. They’re even now, they’ve both shot each other twice. No reason for her to shoot again. 

He wants to feel the way she shivers against him and moans into his mouth. She can be pissed all she wants but she kissed back, she can’t deny that. He’s sure if she wasn’t tied up she’d be a bit more receptive to him. Or maybe she just needs time to cool off after the whole compound incident, a month seems like a reasonable amount of time. Then again, women are so damn unreasonable. 

She tugs a knife out of her boot and positions it between her knees. She places it between her wrists and saws at the rope until it falls free. She slides the knife back in her boot and tosses the ruined rope at him. 

He catches it with a sigh and glances up at her. “Why didn’t you do that earlier?”

Her eyes are alight with a challenge, “I wanted to see if you would let me go yourself.” Well, clearly, he had failed her little test. “I wanted to see if there was even a possibility I could ever trust you again.”

He gives her an unimpressed look, slightly pissed off about his shirt. He never should have taught her how to shoot. If he’d known it would come back to bite him in the ass he wouldn’t have. “And?”

She gives him a disbelieving look and shakes her head. “And instead of letting me go, you kissed me.“ She throws her hands up in astonishment and glares at him. “Why the hell would you think that was a good idea?”

He smirks and revels in the way she shivers at the sight. “Well, darling, I’ve always been better with actions not words.”

“Yeah,” her voice is a challenge, eyes hard and jaw clenched tightly in frustration. He loves the sight of her all riled up. He loves it even more knowing he’s the one getting her like this. “What were you trying to tell me with that little display?”

He doesn’t answer her question, not wanting to just yet. “You liked it, didn’t you?” Her mouth snaps shut and she looks away from him. He laughs, leaning back and giving her a smug look. “You can be pissed off at me as much as you want, sweetheart,” the nickname rolls off his tongue like a taunt and she sneers at him. “But you want me just the same as you used to.”

“Do you like hurting me? Is that why you keep me around? You’ve been alone for two hundred years, Cooper. And for the majority of them you’ve harbored this hatred for me because you thought I had abandoned you just like everyone else.” 

Her words strike a place deep inside him that has him on edge. She knows what she’s doing. He’s forgotten, in his time with her, that in the same way he can get under her skin, she can do it too. She knows him just as well, she’s just always been the better half of their duo. She never feels the need to stoop to the level he does. But she’s doing it now and it feels like a kick in the teeth. 

“And I’m the only one that’s actually stuck by you.” She laughs, but there’s an underlying pain to it. She looks away from him and wipes at her cheeks and his fists clench within his gloves. “Is this your revenge? You think by torturing me you get back at everyone whose ever fucked you over. I’m sick of it, Cooper. I’m not gonna let you use me anymore.”

“I feel for you,” he forces the words out. He doesn’t want to tell her this. He shouldn’t have to tell her this. She should just stick with him, it’s what they’d always done, it’s how it always should be. Them, together. But she’s fighting against that, against him, so much that he doesn’t have a choice. 

She’s backed him into a corner he doesn’t know how to get out of. “In a way I haven’t in a very long time. I can’t let you go. Don’t you get that, sweetheart? We’re in this together.”

She shakes her head and he sighs. “No,” she looks at him and just shakes her head again. “No, you don’t love me, Cooper, or you don’t want me at least. I’m not the same girl I was, that’s what you’re after. That idea in your head, of us together, that’s who I was. You were right, the Wastelands changes you. I can’t be her for you and I don’t want to be.”

He chuckles and she shrinks away from the sound in suspicion. “Newsflash, darling, I’m not the same man. I loved you a long time ago, sweetheart, but I’m not capable of that anymore. Not for the girl you were, anyway.”

She nodded, her arms wrapped around herself. She looked like she accepted the answer, but he could see beyond that, could see that she thought he was rejecting her. It hurt, she could hate him as much as she wanted, but that still hurt her. “Good,” she muttered, “she’s gone.”

“Well, good.” She shrank further into herself and he grinned.  “You. You as you are now. That’s what I want. I don’t give a shit about who we were, the only person I’ve wanted since I’ve been out here has been you. You’re the only person I’ve met who can actually keep up with me. I don’t give a shit if anyone in this godforsaken Wasteland lives or dies, but I give a shit about you. You’re also the only one who can knock me on my ass.”

Her eyes darted to the hole in his shirt and a small grin came over her lips. “Haven’t been shot a lot, have you, cowboy?”

“No,” he chuckles again and grins at her, “I haven’t. Though, I am still pretty pissed about the hole in my hat.”

Her tone loses a bit of her playfulness and she glares at him, “You more than earned that.”

He acquiesces and holds up his hands in surrender, “Maybe.” She scoffs at that and rolls her eyes. “But I think we’re even now.”

“Barely,” she mutters, rubbing at the bruises on her wrists. She glances up at him and sighs, a surrender in her eyes. “But, it’s close enough now.”

He stands up and she eyes him warily as he throws himself down on the log next to her. He holds out a hand, “What do you say, darling, partners?”

She sighs and stares at his hand for a long time. He doesn’t mind, he leaves it there, hovering between them. He knows she’ll take it. “Deny it as much as you want but this is how it’s meant to be. You can keep fighting it or save us both some time.”

She reaches forward and tentatively wraps a hand around his, she uses it to yank him forward, their faces separated by an inch. “Shoot me again,” she whispers, “and I won’t miss the next time I knock you on your ass.”

“Oh shit,” you jump at the kickback on the rifle and nearly drop it to the ground. Cooper laughs and reaches around you, taking it from you. 

“Maybe I should have started you off with something with a little less kick to it.” He props the rifle against the tree and glances over to the cans you’d been shooting at. Well, you’d gotten one out of five at least. 

In all fairness this was the first time you’d ever handled a gun, you’re sure you’re doing fine for a beginner. He sucks on his teeth and looks at your targets. The serious look on his face cracks and he’s clearly trying to fight off laughing. 

You shove at his shoulder, smiling, “Shut up. I’ve never used one of these things before.”

He picks the rifle back up and starts laughing now, “You mean a gun?” 

You throw your arms in the air in defeat and slump into the patio chairs he’s dragged to the back of the cabin. “This is pointless, anyway.” He cocks the rifle and lifts it up to aim properly. In quick succession he knocks the remaining four cans off the fence. You roll your eyes at him, “Show off.”

He smiles and takes a seat next to you. You remain silent for a while, gazing across the yard and to the towering mountains across from his cabin. You appreciate him inviting you here. When you’d told him how overwhelmed you’d been feeling with all the new publicity you hadn’t expected him to drag you all the way out to his mountain home. 

You wouldn’t have accepted if you’d known it was just going to be you and him. You’d thought he was bringing his wife and kid, too. Spending a long weekend playing house with Cooper wasn’t going to do anything in getting rid of your crush. It was just getting worse the longer you were around him.

Waking up everyday and having him be the first person to greet you was going to send you into an early grave. You swear your heart’s never beat this fast around anyone else. He seems to be the only man who's ever had you feeling this head over heels. 

“I think it’s important you learn.”

You glance over at him, surprised at how serious he sounds. He’s still staring out at the mountains, but his gaze is distant. His mind is some place else. “Why?” You ask, voice quiet, afraid to spoil the moment.

He finally blinks, gaze darting down to his hands and the rifle still in them. “It’s easy for people to dismiss the war nowadays. They weren’t there, they didn’t watch as hundreds of good men and women died for them.” You frown, sometimes it’s easy to forget that he’d been fighting on the frontlines. He’s so good at being a socialite, you feel guilty that even you sometimes forget he was a soldier before he was Cooper Howard. 

His voice is heavy, the tension thick around the both of you. “They seem to think the war is over. I know it’s not, it’s just going to get worse. People can bury their heads in the sand as long as they want, but when the fighting is at their front door, what are they going to do?”

You reach out, hand covering his own. He finally looks up at you and you smile. “I appreciate it, Cooper.”

His eyes quickly look at your hand before looking back at you. “For what?”

You shrug, moving closer to him and lacing your fingers with his. You shouldn’t indulge yourself like this, but you can’t help it. He seems so sad and you only want to make him feel better. You just want to take care of him, the way he takes care of you. 

“For always looking out for me. You’re always there, I appreciate it. I appreciate you.”

The sad cast over his face finally breaks and he smiles at you. His hand squeezes yours once, then again and he looks back out at the mountains without saying anything else. You don’t think he needs to, that either of you needs to. Sometimes you understand each other better without words. 

You’ll always be there for one another.

You eye him warily and he holds the jerky out further. “Aren’t you a little curious?” He taunts, waving the jerky around in front of your face. You know he thinks you won’t take it. That he’s just screwing with you. He’s been doing this ever since you agreed to tag along with him. Teasing you at every given opportunity. 

You snatch it from his hands and rip a piece of it off. It kind of tastes like beef, if not a little sweeter. There’s also that metallic radiated tang to it. You chew it slowly, savoring the slightly caught off guard look on his face. You swallow it down, forcing your face to stay straight and not give away how disgusted you feel right now. 

He chuckles, leaning back and looking at you with something that seems like appreciation. “I hope you know that was ass jerky.”

You gag now, glaring at him and tossing the rest of the jerky at his smug face. “You’re such a dick.” You take a swig from your canteen and swirl the water around your mouth. It gets rid of the taste well enough but you’re never going to get over the fact that you swallowed a part of someone’s ass. 

He suddenly gets serious, swatting at your arm and motioning to the front of the store. You crouch beside him, watching as a raider walks out of the front doors. You don’t get why they chose an old movie store for their hideout, but Cooper had it on good authority that they had a decent cache of supplies inside. 

The last time you’d followed him into one of these things, you’d nearly died, and then he’d sold you. You’re still not fully trusting of him. The only reason you’re with him now is because you need extra security from bounty hunters after getting booted out of Filly. 

If he wasn’t such a good shot, you would have never given him a second glance. Despite how much he insists the compound was an honest mistake, you find the trust slow to come. You’ll let him take the lead on this one, you’re not confident in him having your back if things take a turn. 

He moves forward and you hang back, keeping watch while he slits the guard’s throat. He lowers the body quietly to the ground and you creep behind him, following him through the doors of the store. 

This group is smaller than the last one you dealt with. Only five of them with no extra guards outside. Cooper ducks behind a dust covered shelf before they can spot either of you. You go to the other side of the store, moving slowly along the edge until you have a good shot. 

You take out one man and Cooper manages to hit two more before they start firing off their own guns. You dart back behind the shelf, willing to let Cooper handle the last two. But one of them dives behind the shelf and grabs at you. 

Another shot goes off and his friend’s body hits the ground while he rounds the corner with you. He’s got an arm wrapped around your throat and the barrel of his gun pushing so hard into your skull you can feel an indent forming. 

It wouldn’t be hard to shoot this guy, you still have your gun in your hand. Cooper seems to realize that, too, from the questioning look he gives you. You drop your gun to the floor, you want to see what he’ll do. 

Maybe you’re stupid, gambling with your life like this. But you don’t feel any fear, not from the guy holding you hostage at least. You just keep your eyes locked on Cooper’s. They’re so familiar to you, yet so distant. Like a stranger you’ve known all your life. 

He slowly rises from the floor, hands raised in the air in surrender. “Alright, let’s just see if we can’t talk this out like gentlemen.”

The guy holding you jerks you roughly, gun banging painfully against your temple. You wince but remain quiet. “Stay back or I’ll blow her goddamn brains out!”

Cooper’s eyes dart from your face to the guy. He huffs, frowning and pursing his lips like he’s trying to think of a way to talk himself out of this. He could leave, he’s got enough time to make it through the door before he fires at him. 

Or he could help you. 

It’s the only reason you let yourself get caught. If he wants your trust he’s going to have to prove it. Cooper looks at you and a grin splits across his face. It’s like he’s read your mind, from the knowing look on his face you think he might’ve. 

Then again, you never really needed words to talk to each other. 

With a speed that never fails to catch you off guard his hand darts under his jacket and he draws his gun. He’s shooting the man before you even get a chance to brace yourself. Your body gets dragged back slightly by the dead weight but Cooper moves forward and wraps a hand around your shirt, tugging you into him. 

Your hands shoot out, bracing yourself against his chest. He peers at you from under his hat and grins, “You didn’t really think I was gonna let you go that easy did you, darling?” Your eyes dart down to his lips, you feel like you can still taste him. 

The timing of his kiss might not have been appropriate, but he certainly hadn’t made it forgettable. Nothing about him was forgettable. As much as you wished he could be. You hated yourself for still letting yourself fall into his trap. 

Hollywood might have once labeled you as the most seductive actress of your generation, but Cooper had you beat. He kept you coming back even when you knew you shouldn’t. He had you wrapped around him and all you wanted to do was squeeze until he let you go. 

You push off of him, ignoring how much you want to pull him closer. You move towards their pile of supplies, “Let’s see what we’ve got.”

There are a few different posters set up in the old movie store that intrigue him. But the one that’s caught his attention the most is set up directly behind her. Her back is to it, so she hasn’t gotten a chance to see it yet, but it’s all he can focus on. 

The Outlaw and The Sheriff

Their first movie together. 

He looks at her and huffs out a laugh, she glances up at him for a moment before she begins rifling through her bag again. She looks like she walked right off the fucking poster, hat and all. She’s the spitting image of herself, but she seems so different. 

Maybe it’s the eyes. The light there has changed, dimmed slightly from how it used to be. She used to seem so naive to the world, like a little lamb that just needed some guidance. Now, he wonders just how much of the world she’d seen before he found her. If maybe she had never been as innocent to it’s cruelties as he’d once assumed. 

She stepped into this new role of hers just as quickly as he had. You didn’t just change that quickly without knowing already just how awful people could be. 

“Sweetheart,” she looks up and he points behind her. She turns around and looks up to the poster.

She scoffs, moving to stand beside him, “I always hated how I looked in that.”

He glances over at her and shakes his head, “Probably shouldn’t show you a mirror anytime soon, then.” Her hands reach up to fiddle with the brim of her hat and she smiles, a real smile for once. 

“No, I suppose not.” Her hands trace over her lips, he glances back at the poster. At that old signature of hers. She always had to have those red lips. “It’s so different,” she whispers and he knows she didn’t mean for him to hear. Her eyes glisten and he frowns. 

He shouldn’t have shown her. It’s not like he enjoyed seeing those fucking Vault-Boy posters, he sure as hell hated seeing clips of himself. Why would she enjoy seeing who she used to be? Who they used to be?

Things used to be so simple. He loved her, she loved him. Now he’d fucked up so much he wasn’t sure she could ever look at him the way she used to. He didn’t want who she was before, he couldn’t handle that. This new her, well, he didn’t give her near enough credit. 

But he wouldn’t hate seeing someone look at him like that again. Endless adoration and unflinching loyalty. He knew he would follow her anywhere, he’d realized that a while ago. He didn’t have anything in the Wastelands, nothing but hate and spite to keep him going all this time.

Now, he had her. He just needed her to realize that she had him just the same. She had him wrapped around her and he hated it and loved it at the same time. Hated her and loved her for it all the same. 

He tugs his glove off before he reaches for her. He cups her cheek, thumb tracing over her lips before she turns towards him. His eyes meet hers and he smiles slightly at the familiarity and mystery to them. So much of her he recognizes and then there are these new parts he’s yet to discover. 

He wants to discover all of her. Learn everything he can about her all over again, feed his desire to consume her entirely. 

She pulls him in this time, her lips chapped and cracked. Her arms wind around his neck, yanking him closer and he tugs at her. She tastes as sweet as he remembers and it only makes him crave more. More of her, more of anything she’ll let him have. 

She pulls back from him, pressing her hand against his chest, slowly backing him against the wall. He lets her ease him to the floor and she throws a leg over his lap. She settles herself above him, both her hands tightly grasping his neck, crushing their bodies together, eyes gazing intently into his own. He doesn’t know what she’s looking for in him but she seems to find it when she leans in once more. 

She isn’t giving him a chance at control, she’s got a leash on him, pulling back anytime he tries to lead. He relents, following her as she slowly explores him. 

He’s not sure how long this peace between them will last before one of them inevitably fucks up. But they’re stuck together now. It doesn’t matter what happens, he’s not letting her get away from him again. 

She’s his, always has been, always will be. It’s been that way since before the fallout. He’s led her, guided her.

He had loved her as a different man. History always seems to repeat itself with them. As twisted as the world is, as twisted as they’ve become, they always seem to drift back together. No matter how much the both of them fight against it. 

He’s giving in now, giving into her. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #how about a nuke? #cooper howard #the ghoul

[a-polite-melody]

I’ve seen this… absolutely out-of-touch take a couple of times now, and it relies on my old “favourites”—flattening transfem experiences down to a single experience and then declaring transmasc experiences to be the binary opposite—so let’s make a post about it now, shall we?

The take I’m talking about this time is: “trans women/transfems/MtF people are transitioning from male (prioritized sex) to female (oppressed sex) and as such the oppression they face is based on the fact that society sees them as doing the bad transing thing, but also devaluing themselves/making themselves lesser. Therefore, trans men/transmascs/FtM people face less oppression for coming out because sure they’re transing, but they’re doing it in a direction that elevates them in society’s eyes.”

Like… uh. You kinda had me in the first half. Because yes, part of transmisogyny is definitely what was described above. It isn’t the total of what transmisogyny is, though, and I think it’s important that we note that.

If the take had stopped there, while I may have still found it reductive of transmisogyny as a whole depending on how it’s framed, it wouldn’t really have bothered me because it’s not really wrong per se, just potentially reductive. And snappy posts sometimes are a little reductive in order to get the point snappy, so whatever.

But it hasn’t stopped there when I’ve seen this take, because the only time I’ve seen this take is to continue it to talk about why transmacs are “not as oppressed” as trans women. As if there’s ever an easy answer to “which broad group of people is more oppressed” because intersectionality complicates that SO MUCH that even a question of “if all other things are equal then who is more oppressed” is fraught because rarely are all other things equal even when they may appear to be. But anyway…

The idea that trans men, when they are known as trans men so that people are aware of the transition, are thought to be making themselves privileged or giving themselves a higher position on the oppression Olympics totem poll is straight out of the radfem playbook. Trans men’s maleness is not seen as them elevating themselves to be men, it is seen as an affront to masculinity and maleness. This isn’t treated by society as someone elevating their position, but as someone trying to destroy the system which artificially rewarded certain members of society based on being “born the privileged gender”, and so an affront to society.

It really makes me think that the people making these takes have talked to no transmascs, or only the few who will willingly play into transandrophobes in order to be seen as “one of the good ones.”

#my post #transandrophobia #transmisandry #edited for a few missed words #such is the joy of brain going faster than fingers

[chefkids]

Claire is Carmy's projection of Sydney.

Costuming is one of the most straightforward ways to tell an audience what a character is like and what their role is. Claire's costuming choices show how she was literally just a clear blank slate for Carmy to project Syd onto. So come peel this onion with me.

When he first sees her after being away from him for a while she's wearing a green jacket, who else famously has worn a green puffer jacket all throughout the series and when she reconnected with Carmy after she left?

When he takes Claire on that post office trip drive through Sydney's favorite UPS route, Sheridan Road, she's wearing a brown jacket which looks very similar to the kinds that UPS drivers like Sydney would wear.

When Claire is at the party with him trying to get with Carmy and pursue a new relationship, she just had a denim jacket. Which we have also seen Sydney wear a denim jacket around him when they were trying to start a new relationship aka partnership together by building the new restaurant.

And then we see her white button shirt, dark pants, and the blue denim jacket when Carmy takes her back to the restaurant, which is basically all Carmy saw Syd wearing for most of the time while at the restaurant when she was in her white button down, dark pants, and blue apron.

When he cooks for Claire we see her for the first time in a tank top at the exact same time we see Sydney the most undressed she's ever been in a bra.

When she's in his kitchen she's in his white t-shirt she tries to have a somewhat vulnerable moment with him. She asks him what he is thinking about when he's clearly stressed and he deflects to just complement her. Later when he is with Syd in her white t-shirt in their kitchen at The Bear, he is vulnerable with her about his mother and tries to get her to be vulnerable with him and she finally tells him about her mom dying.

At Friends & Family night is the one time we see her dressed in the most uniquely herself way in a black dress, and she looks like she's ready for a funeral. Which it essentially was the death of her and Carmy's relationship that night. We also know that this is what Sydney will be doing at the start of Season 3, going to a funeral with Carmy. RIP Claire. (yes i know it's marcus' mom but the metaphor is still there and this is still a comedy after all)

Claire has very little identity of her own because Carmy never bothers to know her like he knows Syd. When Claire is on her own she's always in her scrubs, because he doesn't have much else of an image of her besides the fact that she's a doctor now. But he knows Syd well enough to know the exact designer brand she likes to wear and make her a custom jacket.

He knows about Syd's mom dying because he repeatedly asks her about her family and parents without even knowing them. Claire told him about her cousin dying and he basically said "damn that sucks" even though he knew him personally. He knows about Syd's struggles with her job history through catering and fine dining. Claire told him about her life as a doctor and the only thing he came out with was that it was a time intensive job and that he thought she liked taking care of people by helping to fix them. Which is exactly what he tells Sydney he notices about her later on. She likes to take care of people and to fix things like she tried to fix the restaurant.

He didn't give af about Claire's life or personality, he just wanted to project Sydney's onto it. Carmy wanted to want to be with Claire, because everyone around him told him it was what he should want from Mikey to Fak to Richie. So he chose to see and project as much of Syd, who he already knew deep down he liked but was too scared to pursue, on to Claire. That's why he took her on that drive and why he made her the Sydney's pasta recipe that he knew Sydney already liked. Because he doesn't bother getting to know Claire, he just assumes Sydney's identity on to her. And what he did come to know and do with her that was her choice, like going to a party with drunk friends, only ended up associating her with his alcoholic mother and his brother at their Christmas party.

And in the end he still realized he couldn't just replace Sydney in his mind with her.

#the bear #the bear meta #the bear fx #sydcarmy #claire the bear #carmen berzatto #sydney adamu

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: decided not to include smut just yet, it didn't feel right considering the story, next time i promise we'll f the raisin

Warnings: Blood and Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Smoking Cigs

Summary: The camp gets attacked, and as such, important changes are forced to develop. Cross-Posted on AO3

Pt. 1, Pt. 2

Old. He feels old. 

His age is like a thief in the night, it creeps up on him, slowly, before sinking its teeth right into his bones. There are centuries to his name now, and still, he doesn't learn from his mistakes. It's him chasing a woman, that has gotten him in this mess in the first place, and now he's doing the same damned thing. That's the only explanation, why he lets you get away with as much as he does. 

Here you sit, curled into yourself, his lasso secured tightly around you, your hands raised towards your face. He watches with confliction, as you put a cigarette up to your lips, the bud lighting your features for just a moment, before a cloud of smoke escapes into the dark night.  It's a deep, heavy inhale, your chest expands. He can feel the lasso move under his grip, and he flexes his fingers against it.

He's never seen anyone smoke in such an elegant manner, not after the bombs anyway. This regal air, a natural sort of poise, intrigues him beyond any reason. How did the Wasteland not destroy all this grace, how are you untouched by the roughness of this world, is beyond him. He tries to categorize everything he knows about you, all the small tidbits of information he has gathered through the short time you've been travelling together. Still, nothing explains this strange nature of you, and Cooper leans back, the sound of your Geiger meter spiking every time he moves. 

Cooper reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes, your cigarettes. Feeling your gaze on him, he takes one and lights it against the small fire you both got going. Well, in all fairness, it was you that started the fire, while your captor watched you struggle, keeping his leash on you. 

Those strange little power trips seemed to be one of his favorite games. He wouldn't be the first man that got off on power you've met, but he was definitely the most annoying. Your throat still burns slightly from the smoke, as you throw him a displeased look. 

The nicotine is barely noticeable to him, like a grain of sugar in a very large chocolate cake. In his case, the cake is made of every drug possible to find in the Wasteland. 

Still, Cooper tastes the pre-war chemicals with a strange sense of melancholy. It makes him remember, again, and he closes his eyes as he exhales the smoke, not bothering to smother a low groan of pleasure. Your eyebrows jump to your forehead, but you compose yourself quickly, throwing your burning bud into the fire. 

The events of the previous night are still vivid in your mind. His fingers flexing against your tongue. His knee between your legs, close but not close enough. Perhaps he wasn't the only one getting off on this uneven relationship, but you were not about to admit it, even to yourself.

- So - your voice is rough from the smoke, and you swallow around a lump in your throat - Where are you taking me?

He doesn't answer for a long while, just enjoying his cigarette, your cigarette. And he seems to be enjoying it very much, more than what's considered proper. Honestly, with the way he's been groaning, you wouldn't be surprised if he came on the spot just from the smoke. The thought makes your cheeks redden, and you chastise yourself for even thinking in that general direction, again. Has it really been that long?

- Shady Sands - smoke pushes past his teeth, surprisingly intact for a Ghoul.    - For real?

- Yup - another drag, you watch his chest expand under his coat - Shady Fucking Sands.

Your head slumps down, as you turn your gaze back to the fire. Hunger creeps up on you, and with your hands tied, you reach over to an Iguana on a stick roasting over the flames. Your tongue burns from the heat, but as soon as the chewy meat hits your stomach, you're ready to sing to the heaven's. 

- That's an awfully long way for a bunch of caps - you note, between quick bites of your food - What was my bounty? Five hundred?

The last time you've checked, it was something around that number. Not too shabby, but not worryingly big either. Just enough to keep you on your toes for any desperate newcomers, but not enough to warrant attention from anyone actually dangerous. The Ghoul, as desperate as he looked back at the bar, started to look more and more like a professional, every second you've spent with him. There was something in the way he walked, the way his eyes stayed vigilant and aware, that screamed danger. Still, for five hundred caps, times must've really been hard on him.

- Try ten thousand.

A piece of meat lodges itself into your throat as you inhale with surprise. As soon as it happens, you cough it out, and it flies back into the fire, leaving you heaving with tears in your eyes. 

- How much?! - you demand, hands trying to massage the pain in your chest. 

The Ghoul smirks, taps the brim of his hat with his gun, which he kept trained on you for over three days now. 

- Had I known I'm worth that much, I'd turn myself over a long time ago - you murmur, and the Ghoul shoots you a mirthless laugh.

- Thought you ran a charity, Healer - he spits your name out like the worst of slurs, and with half a mind you wonder why it bothers him so much. 

Still, his words hit a little bit too close to home, and you turn to your skewer, chewing in silence, until he gives you a wordless permission to sleep.  Tugging your messenger bag under your head, you listen to the various liquids sloshing inside, your Geiger meter cracking away on your hand. The Ghoul stands up to put out the fire, as cold was better than anyone finding you in the wilderness. Then, he sits down, a short distance from your curled up form. 

You can feel him, even if you can't see him, and with tired arms, you tug your robe closer around your body. 

- I try to be good - you whisper into the night, into the hot coals of the bonfire, into his unyielding indifference.

- You ain't gotta explain yourself to me, sweetheart - he answers in a low voice, and it's the nicest thing you've heard him say, since you've met him. 

***

The raiders come at night, as they always do.

You're still halfway into deep sleep when the first shot rings out. The bullet lodges itself into the ground right in front of you, dirt exploding across your face. It doesn't wake you at first, confusion and remnants of some distant dream muddling your senses. 

The Ghoul springs to action with record speed, and before you can truly react, he shoots three shots in the direction of the tree line. That's when you jump to your feet, ears ringing and head swimming with confusion. 

A man in a tattered blouse falls to the ground, right next to the small fire pit, ash flying into the air. You can see his blood seeping into the coals, but before you can react, The Ghoul grabs you by the shoulder, all but throwing you behind him, as he levels his gun in front of him. 

The ringing in your ears mixes with the wild beating of your heart, as you try to wrestle the panic into submission. The Ghoul's tattered coat whips itself across your ankles, and you've never wanted to be free of your binds as much as in this moment.

Silence. Complete, and utter silence engulfs the two of you, and you grab onto the bounty hunter's arm to steady yourself. His head turns in your direction for just a second. Eyes lock together, something flickers across his face, but it's gone before you can even begin to decipher the expression. 

- I'll check the parameter - he grumbles, and walks towards the closest tree. 

At first you don't even know how to voice your protest, as he all but ties you to the tree, securing his lasso, and consequently cutting off any means for you to escape. Like a wild dog, you're left there, watching him turn away in favor of walking into the trees. 

Panic rises in your gut, as you tug on the rope.

- Hey! - you whisper-yell after him, eyes searching for any more attackers - Don't you dare leave me here!

But he's already walking away, keeping himself low, his rifle tight in hand. A couple of steps into the tree line and he blends completely with the surroundings, like he belongs there, amongst the trees. Chest heaving, you double the efforts of freeing yourself, the rope digging painfully into your wrists.

Frustration quickly overcomes fear, and you kick out, the ash from the bonfire swirling around you like a cloud.

Then, a twig breaks somewhere behind you, and your blood freezes in your veins. 

***

Cooper moves through trees like he's one with the southern wind. 

His coat shuffles around his ankles, as he presses further into the tree line, more bothered by the small attack than he would like to admit. 

The bullet almost hit you. In the head no less. Ten thousand caps, gone in a second

He allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment, barely a second, and it was all it took. When has he become so sloppy, he couldn't tell, but he supposed it had something to do with the way you looked like, when sleeping. 

So at peace, like this hard ground was the most comfortable bed in the world. Your cheek squished into your messenger bag, as if it was the softest of pillows. He wondered, what warranted such trust, such peace of mind, that you fell into deep sleep almost as soon as you closed your eyes. 

Did you really trust him that much?

A dangerous idea, he thinks. An idea he might've entertained centuries back, when he still had a nose and didn't look out onto this hell of a world through layers upon layers of cynicism. Still, your curled form tugged on something, some shadow of his former self, that he needed to squash sooner, rather than later. 

He was getting too damn old for this. 

Cooper finds the raiders camp in a matter of minutes. Two sleeping bags, a bunch of empty bottles and, to Cooper's dark amusement, a half-eaten human leg. 

So, not just raiders, but fiends as well. 

Cooper kicks at one of the sleeping bags, his eyes searching for anything of use. And that's when his mind catches up.

He hears your scream tear through air.

His head whips back, hat almost falling. 

A shot rings out.

Ten thousand fucking caps. He's an idiot, an old idiot. 

Cooper starts to run, branches snapping under his boots as he cuts through the trees with surprising agility. Another scream, raw and gut wrenching, and he can almost see your bloodied body twitching under the second fiend. The one he didn't get. 

Rifle first, he all but barrels into the clearing, for a split second not knowing what he's looking at. 

Because yes, there is a bloodied body in the camp, it's face barely resembling human features with the way it's been brutally eviscerated. But it's not yours. Too thin, too male, too hardened. 

That's when he sees you. Curled against the tree, where he tied you down and left you. Your hands are gripping some large stone, blood drips from your fingers, down to your arms. Your shoulders are moving, up and down, in a steady rhythm of deep, heaving breaths, and for a second, Cooper allows himself to feel relief. 

You don't even look at him, still holding onto the rock, nails biting into it's surface, and he can't clearly see your face, but he can see the blood. Your Geiger meter crackles, as he comes closer, kicking at the dead fiend, just to be sure. 

- We gotta get moving, there might be more of those fu-

His words die in his throat, because suddenly, something collides with staggering force onto his body. Landing on his back, he immediately lifts his arms up, to shield himself from bloodied fists, slamming into his chest, into his head, wherever they can reach. 

- You left me! - your voice sounds like a wounded animal - You motherfucker! Why did you leave me?!

There is no real force backing your punches, all your strength apparently drained by what you did to fiend just moments ago.. They do become quite irritating, and Cooper wrangles your, still bound, hands until he has your by the wrist. And that's when he sees you. Finally, truly sees you.

You're hunched over him, straddling his waist, hair whipping around your head like some deranged angel's halo. Features twisted into a mixture between fury and anguish, your face is red, sticky with drying blood. 

Beautiful, tragically beautiful, Cooper thinks, and this time doesn't chastise himself for it. 

- Why did you...?! - your voice cracks like a broken mirror - You're the one killing people, not me. I'm not... I've never...

Cooper fights through your spasming muscles, as slowly, your anger dissipates, leaving nothing but tears, which are now creating pathways down your cheeks. Finally, he understands. Your poise, your elegance, the gentleness in every movement. 

You've never killed anyone. Never taken a life. 

Unknowingly, he has made you into a killer. 

Shoulders sag against his hold, as you slump into him. He feels you, the length of your torso on his, your shallow breathing warming his shirt. And he lets you rest, lets you curl into him like he isn't worse than both of those fiends combined. Like he hasn't just put you through this hell, hasn't tied you up, dragged you through God knows where. 

- He... - you choke out, and Cooper curses at the way his hands slide around your back to hold you closer, tighter - He tried to...

- I know - he doesn't know what has possessed him, but he comforts you just the same - I know, sweet thing. I'm sorry.

Tears fall heavy onto his collarbone, as you let yourself be held. And he holds on with everything he has, deciding that perhaps, you both have some time left. Fingers trace the pattern of your curved spine, the dips between your shoulderblades. He dares not move lower, even though perhaps he wants to. Perhaps he would take advantage of this situation and try to find out just how much he can get away with. But some missplaced feeling of decency wrangles itself onto the surface, swallowing down all the murder, and the lies, and all the horribly depraved things he has thought about, while keeping you hostage. 

 It takes some minutes for you to calm down, and when you do, he pulls you up. Not the usual tug of the rope you're both used to, but a gentle hand in your hand, helping you steady yourself against him. The warmth of your body is all but a memory now, and he clings to it for just a moment longer, a souvenir for later. 

The silence is heavy with unsaid words, with actions that will have disastrous consequences. But as he unties you from the tree, as you look over at the bloodied body of the fiend, he finds that there are no words left to be said. 

So you swing your messenger bag over your arm, and let him lead you further into the Wasteland. No longer yourself, no longer the Healer, but something else entirely. 

#my writing #cooper howard smut #cooper howard x you #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul smut #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #fallout smut #again this one is a bit shorter but the next one im going all out on the story

[poshmygosh]

Sooo I just watched Challengers and I have so many thoughts!!! Warning: this is a long one..

Honestly, I have seen so many interesting takes on this movie (though I'll mainly be discussing one I've seen a lot that I don't agree with at all) and I figured I'd throw my two cents in there lol.

So first and foremost: Tashi is a vital character to this film, as well as Patrick and Art's relationship as we see it int he future.

I"ve seen so many posts saying that "Patrick and Art should just get together, they're the one's that are really in love" or just overall downplaying the role that Tashi has in the film, I don't know if this is just that thing that some mlm shippers do where they erase the woman in the situation so that can just ship the two men, misogynoir, or something else entirely, but this takes generally doesn't make any sense to me. Obviously Patrick and Art loved each other, even before they met Tashi. They had been best friends for years and their friendship was definitely homoerotic at the LEAST, but the idea that they would have been romantic without her is not true. They had never had any sort of romantic interaction, besides jerking off in a room together in separate beds when they were twelve, until Tashi prompted them too in the hotel. I don't think that would have happened otherwise. Beside the fact I do believe that there was some romantic yearning from both of them at times, they were not in the place to actually explore what that means. Patrick had a girlfriend, Art was clearly not in a place to confront the possibility of a sexual situation between them, and they were headed in two completely different directions in life. Tashi being there with them in that moment in the hotel, with them hanging on to her every word, every command allowed for them to feel comfortable being sexual with each other in that moment. Even if she had left that hotel room and the three of them had never interacted again, the night would have been brushed off as just something they did when they were drunk to hook up with a girl, it wouldn't have amounted to relationship, and even if it had she was still an integral part. She is the catalyst to so much of the tension between them, the sex that they might've shared in that hotel room that night if things had continued, and the sex they share on the tennis court 13 years later.

Another hot take: I do think that Tashi loved both of them at different points of the movie, though she loved tennis most of all.

I've seen some people say that the only real love that exists within the triangle is between Patrick and Art, and that Tashi only loved tennis. While I absolutely agree that tennis was the love of her life, I don't at all think that she never had love for Patrick or Art. One of the reasons why she was so bothered by Art saying that Patrick didn't love her when they were eating together at Stanford, was because she DID love him. She puts up a front, she acts like things don't bother her even when they do (is it clear that this trio need to work on their communication lol?) but she does like to show it. I think that this is also evident when her and Patrick are making out in her dorm later. I think some people think that her trying to giver him pointers on how to play better are her trying to be mean or vindictive but I also think this is a sign of how much she cares bout him. Her dad was her tennis coach, so you can imagine that she grew up in a household where oftentimes the love that was expressed was in conversations about how she played and how she could play better. And she's passionate about the sport and she has so much love for the game. For her, love and tennis are tethered in a way. The fact that she watched his games and was so eager to give him tips and pointers was evidence that she cared imo. And how that quickly turned into a fight between them is her putting up her walls, becoming defensive, most likely because she still has Art's words in the back of her head, and it bothers her.

As for Art, I feel like this could go without saying, but she married him. She married him and had a kid with him, and she didn't have to do that lol. She could've just coached him, we know that she's coached players without having a romantic relationship with them, and she did a pretty damn good job to, so she could've done the same with him. We actually get a really nice scene between them at the diner and we get a small glimpse of them beyond tennis, and you realize what it is that sees in him and why she would be interested in him romantically and not just as a coach to player.

I feel like people misconstrue her disdain and loathing that she has for them as her not loving them. She loves them and at times hates them. She tells Art in the beginning that she would do anything to be able to play again, and yet, here these two are, one who has lost his confidence and motivation for the game, and another whose laziness and carelessness prevent him from reaching his highest potential. Two people who are wasting their greatest privilege and she despises them for it.

Annnnnnd last take (I didn't expect this to be so long): Art is a snake.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love Art. I love all of these characters, and in my head they all quarantined together during covid, found a therapist, learned how to communicate and work through their issues, and are now living happily ever after with Lily, but Art is a snake as are all of them. I've seen some people excuse him trying to break Patrick and Tashi up back at Stanford, for one reason or another, and I'm not really sure why. You can love a character and/or feel sympathetic for them without erasing their wrong doings. You can admit that Art was slimy and manipulative at times and still love him, I promise. None of these characters are real and canonically all of them do pretty awful things in the movie, but you can acknowledge that and love them anyway. I think that if you look at this movie as there being a "bad guy" or a "good guy" you may have missed some things. The movie is messy, and toxic, and petty, and intoxicating, and thrilling because of the characters wrongdoings not in spite of them. And I think that's part of what makes it so fun!

Anyway, this was sooo much longer than I intended it to be lol, but I had so many thoughts I needed to get them out. I don't even know if this makes any sense but it's late and I'm going to post it anyway. If anyone has their own thoughts please please share! I'm literally obsessed with this movie, so reading people's ideas and opinions about it has been really fun

#challengers #zendaya #josh o'connor #mike faist #tashi duncan #patrick zweig #art donaldson #overall really great movie #luca guadagnino you've done it again!!

[beneathashadytree]

IMPORTANT POST!!

Hi guys.

I think I will have to close my requests unless something changes. I normally wouldn’t do this when I LOVE receiving requests from you guys, but I will have to do this because people keep repetitively ignoring my rules for requesting, despite the link to them being in my pinned post.

I understand that many of you guys are new followers, and I’m so happy to have you here! But it’s getting very exhausting having to reblog my rules for requesting practically every week because people just don’t bother looking at them before sending in a request.

My rules aren’t there to be mean. They’re there to protect my peace and create a safe space for me online, just as I hope I’m helping you guys create for yourselves. In fact, most of my rules are there PRECISELY to make it a safe space for everyone.

My most ignored rules are these two:

1- No gender of the reader is specified (hence why I only use they/them pronouns in a gender-neutral manner)

2- No physical appearance or details are specified (anatomy, race, size, shape, sexuality, religion, beliefs, etc)

Even after I reiterated my rules twice last night, and reminded everyone that last night’s SMAU was a one-time thing because I’m simply horrible at saying no, within less than 30 minutes of posting about that I’d already received 3 requests completely disregarding my rules and going against them.

My reasoning for both is that I am an extremely underrepresented POC with a unique identity—in fact, I can’t think of a single piece of media that represents me in all the aforementioned categories. This caused me to understand that so, so, so many people will be inevitably excluded if I specified anything about the reader. And if I did, I would have to make individual posts for every single possibility under the sun, and there would be 0 plot or substance in these posts.

And that’s why I’m saying it again: please always assume that you are ALWAYS represented in my works. It doesn’t matter what you look like or what you identify as, my fics/SMAUs are all made with you in mind. I rethink everything I write (eg: hair length/type, clothes by only metioning cloth materials, and blushing that differs in appearance—if it shows at all—from one skin color to the next) and make them as vague as humanly possible to make sure that they’d be fitting for EVERYONE. You are never, ever meant to be excluded in this fandom. We’re all so diverse and different from each other, that it would be impossible to cater to every single person individually and not miss someone along the way. I would never wish that feeling of exclusion on ANYONE.

I keep reblogging my rules because I would hate to embarrass anyone by calling them out individually. But it’s upsetting feeling that people are just ignoring what makes me comfortable and what I feel would make my blog the safest place possible. So now it seems that I will have to close my requests until I can make sure that everyone has read my rules and understood precisely why they’re there.

This is never out of malicious intent, but out of an insistence that I make everyone feel welcomed while creating more content for everyone in the fandom to consume. I would love to be friends with everyone in the fandom, and to always talk to you guys!! But I hope you understand where I’m coming from and looking at it from everyone’s respective POVs when reading my works.

I hope everyone is doing well and that you’re all safe, happy, and loved💗💗💗

#maya talks

[baejax-the-great]

Archive-locking the fics that YOU WROTE and are thus 100% yours to decide what to do with 'hurting people' is so silly tbh. Skill issue on their part. Wish those people could be normal about the amazing fics that writers like you put out & be understanding or at the very least respectful of the choices that writers make about how and where they make their fics available. Especially in light of recent ai training theft and nonsense & all that.

I hope this doesn't sour the fic writing & sharing experience for you too much. I love your writing & think you're very talented & skilled!

There seem to be dual attitudes I'm coming up against recently (and obviously these are not held by everyone, I don't even know that they are held by a majority, but they are certainly held by a plurality).

The first is that authors should be grateful that readers deign to read what they put out there. I think this stems from the "content creation" mentality and the idea that everyone who posts things wants as massive as an audience as possible (for monetization purposes which... isn't a thing in fanfic). I think this mindset also leads to readers demanding that people write specific tropes/pairings/whatever, or threatening basically to take their business elsewhere. "Nobody will read unless you do [X]." 1. Not true and 2. Okay, you weren't my audience.

(I also think authors circulating those posts about how badly they want comments/kudos feeds this mentality of readers doing authors a favor by even clicking on the fic. "Wow, if people are so desperate for attention, then mine must be worth an awful lot!")

Fanfic ain't a business, and I write for myself. Readers choosing to read my work isn't a privilege or an honor they are bestowing upon me (nor are comments for that matter), just as me posting my writing where they can see it isn't a privilege or an honor for them. We are both engaging in hobbies and a love of some media, and sometimes we will overlap and connect and sometimes we won't. Readers aren't reading out of altruism for attention-starved authors, and authors aren't writing out of altruism for content-hungry readers.

And there are those who will read these paragraphs above and think to themselves "wow, what an ungrateful author," and that's exactly the attitude I'm talking about. Don't get me wrong, it's delightful and rewarding to receive comments on fics and chat with people about Blorbo and the Situations. But it should be delightful from both sides of the exchange, or why the hell are we doing this? If I'm meant to be grateful for every commenter who jumps into my inbox, then every commenter in my inbox better be grateful for me, and I can tell you right now there is a population who is not. There is a population who sees me as a service provider for their entertainment, and whatever form I take in their brain, it is not shaped like a full person.

This attitude also leads to people thinking that things like lorefm are no big deal. Don't I want to get my work in front of more eyeballs (or ears)? Don't I want to broaden my audience? And once I put my work out there for readers to see, should I be shocked (or express any negative emotions at all) when someone plagiarizes/scrapes it for AI/demands updates rudely/reads it on a monetized youtube channel/binds it and sells it for profit?

The other idea I've been coming up against is almost the opposite of this--that because some readers form attachments to fic, deleting that fic (or even archive-locking it!) is actively harming those readers. Sure, they can't be bothered to hit the download button or get an AO3 account, but that's no reason not to think of these strangers first before doing what I want with my creative output.

Yall, life is ephemeral. There are things we will see and enjoy and never find again for one reason or another, and it's not harm being done to us, it's just the nature of existence. Having an emotional reaction to something does not give you any sort of ownership over that thing. Artists are allowed to change their minds about whether they want that art in the wild, particularly given that it's free. Maybe it's because I utilize the library a lot, but reading a book and then losing access to that book is not a crime against you, it's just a normal thing that happens. If you read something and it means that much to you, there are ways to avoid losing it (download it).

Seeing this particular attitude extend out to "not making your fic available for as many people to read as possible is harming them" is beyond bizarre. If I woke up tomorrow and deleted everything I have ever written, there would still be thousands upon thousands upon thousands of beautiful, emotional, meaningful fics out there for people to read. They would lack for nothing. Would some people be upset? Probably. Would I be hurting them? No, not really.

Sometimes people have negative emotions because of our actions, but that doesn't mean we did anything to them. This is one of those times.

Lastly, this AI and everything else bullshit really has taken a toll on my enthusiasm for posting my work. It's one thing for companies to try to pillage every thought, every word, every stroke of a pen or paintbrush to enrich themselves while actively making the planet an unbearable and inhospitable place to live, it's another when fellow fans are telling you that "Whelp that's just life, what did you expect, give us your content anyway or you're a bad person and if you complain, then I'll be taking my business elsewhere, you sensitive, entitled creative, lol."

#because here's the thing #it just stops being fun #and fun is the reason I (and hopefully all of us) started writing in the first place #if I wanted to cater to people whose tastes aren't mine #I would be trying to woo the taylor swift fans who control the publishing industry #and don't get me wrong the people on AO3 who interact with my stuff rule #Particularly patrochilles fans like that group of people has given me the best writing experience of anyone #and I don't want to let some idiotic exchanges ruin the joy I get from writing #but it feels like it's coming from all sides this year #I do think everyone would benefit if we all remembered that author-reader interactions are just two strangers attempting to communicate #sometimes good sometimes awkward sometimes wires get crossed sometimes cultures clash most often it's just small talk

[krisandthebluesurgeons]

Do you endorse guilt tripping/shamming people into supporting moral causes?

I'm sorry, I've just seen far too many Palestine and Gaza supporters use guilt tripping to gain more traction.

It gives me the feeling people can't understand that people can be good people and not care for supporting what they want.

Like I'm all for not killing people but people make me and others out for trash for not wanting to do anything and continue on with our lives despite the knowledge.

I don't know i just want to ask you about this.

There is... so much wrong with this ask. I wanted to just block this account and move on, but I can't just... Not do anything about this. Maybe I can't convince you to care about what's going on, but I can try, and I want to try. I try to see the best in people. I'm hoping, sincerely hoping, that you're just... ignorant of the situation, and not just plain heartless.

"people can be good people and not care for supporting what they want"

What they want??? What they WANT??

Palestinians are being murdered, they're starving, being tortured in Israeli concentration camps, and you're speaking as if this is a matter of opinion. Human rights are not an opinion.

Good people are those who care about the lives of others, who know that the oppressed should not be hurt by the hands of their oppressors. Don't even say anything about it starting on October 7th- this has been going on for 75 years. It is normal to care. Even most "bad" people can understand that what's going on in Palestine is an injustice.

"not wanting to do anything and continue on with our lives despite the knowledge"

If you can stomach the genocide of millions in Palestine, children, women, men, and you can just move on without doing anything- You need to do some serious self reflection because this isn't okay. I'm not saying this as a lighthearted jokey thing. This is just Not okay.

You're saying you can't even share resources to help these people? If you can't donate, that's alright, there are so many economical problems going on in this day and age, but you can't even be bothered to share some posts? Information? To share some gofundme's?

You do not have to watch videos of people getting blown up and killed. You don't have to subject yourself to that. But you need to be knowledgeable about these things, you need to know that these things are happening, you should be horrified because these things are not normal. Nothing is normal about millions of people losing their futures.

Just as you deserve to dream of a future, these people deserve the same.

"I don't know i just want to ask you about this."

Another thing that's bothering me. Why ask me about this? Are you just asking any Palestine supporter this question???

If you want information on what's going on in Palestine, if you want reasons to care about this, look at Bisan, Motaz Azaiza, Eid Yara, Plestia Alaqad. These are brave people from Palestine who are suffering, showing the war from their eyes. They're experiencing it.

I want to make it clear, just because I show respect to my followers, does not mean you can confide to me about anything. I am trying to be kind, by pushing you in the right direction. I want you to understand that this mindset you're following is apathetic, it is harmful to others yes and also to yourself. I'm being harsh because I want you to realize that this whole situation, this is wrong. I have hope that you'll understand! That's why I didn't just block you straight up.

I don't hold any hope or respect for zionists, but you just seem ignorant at best. That's why I want to try and push you on the right direction, and if I can't, if I failed to, that's no fault of mine. I did what I could, and I hope you can do better. I sincerely hope so! I know you can improve yourself, you just have to try! Even if you don't think so. I believe you can.

It is dangerous to be uncaring. It is dangerous to not be radicalized.

#asks #palestine #free palestine #free gaza #from the river to the sea palestine will be free #important #donations #donate if you can

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

it's hard to imagine that if they actually dated she would be posting bts content from 2020 to prove it. like she would have to have something she took herself. she has been stoking these rumors for years and she has yet to show something that proves they have ever even met irl. i hope the rumor that he moved out before enlisting is true because this is getting old.

"she has been stoking these rumors for years and she has yet to show something that proves they have ever even met irl." Exactly, yeah.

There was someone yesterday or the day before who sent an ask arguing in favor of every story she posted the other day and how she couldn't have possibly gotten those from anywhere else when she very much could've. All I'm gonna say is people have literally worn Jimin's fake love outfits because somehow fans got a hold of it, and someone was able to get his mail from BTS own home. Also, when that guy posted the heart jikook photo and some other Jimin photo from Japan in like 2018/2019, everyone immediately and unanimously agreed that he couldn't possibly be their friend anymore because if he was he wouldn't have posted those photos. And I agreed with that because I've also seen how Jimin seems to handle his personal relationships and to keep their exposure to a minimum. We don't even see social media posts with sungwoon or saeon who are also somewhat public figures.

But I really don't care about "debunking" any of it, I think the back and forth between "this is legit proof" and "that isn't legit proof" is stupid and annoying.

I've been told before stuff like why do you get so defensive about it but it's not defensiveness. It's annoyance because I really seriously geniunely don't care if it's real or not, and it's annoying that people want me so bad to care. Like why does it matter??? I don't have that parasocial of a relationship with Jimin, but have those anons stopped to think they might have a parasocial relationship with ME? Because I really can't understand why they want me to care so bad.

Last December, I was on holidays right, and I sleep with my phone next to my bed and the phone vibrated like three or four times in a row and it woke me up (I have really light sleep). I checked it and it was just before 7am and the phone had been vibrating because of tumblr notifications. I opened them and it was I SWEAR like 3 or 4 messages recounting every single instagram story the actress had ever posted or some shit. I blocked that anon immediately. Nothing had even happen!!!! That person just felt like obsessing over this woman's instagram and that was it. So they had to come and give me all their "proof" and accusing me for not believing in it.

I've also realized how much ammo she gets by doing these slight, sneaky """reveals""" because it's actually what gets people talking more than they would if she just posted a photo of Jimin sitting on the toilet. People post her stories, then go check them, then check her comments, a couple of hours later they check to see if she's deleted them, etc etc. All while others on twitter were sharing the stories left and right and comparing it with the bangtan bomb and trying to decipher if it was really Jimin behind that flower emoji.

So, yeah that's really it. Also not directed to you, but to some other people. Don't ask me or expect me to care... I might've cared years ago when I still believed Jimin and Jungkook were a thing but I've been saying more like two years already that they're not fucking each other, so there's literally no reason at all for Jimin dating to ever affect me. And even when I did believe they were fooling around, I never ever said "they're totally in a committed exclusive real relationship and have been married since 2015" because I've never believed that.

I've been a fan of Harry Styles since I was 15 years old and it has never bothered me to see him making out in public with the whole lineup of Victoria Secret's models because I've just never been that person. So even if it wasn't the reaction people expected me to have, you're just gonna have to believe me when I say Jimin dating rumours do not bother me.

Lastly and I really doubt I'll be addressing this topic again unless something really significant happens, there really isn't necessary "proof" for me to take this seriously. I just don't have enough information to believe in this rumour and that's just it. I'm not going to be thinking harder and trying to connect barely-there dots for someone else. If there is something there, or there was at some point in the past, I'm gonna need taennie level of proof.

[taichouu]

Not to seem ungrateful, but I genuinely don't understand how many times a user on here has to be told to reblog the art they like before they actually listen. I don't understand how I can see posts from artists begging for people to interact with their posts still circulating from 2015 when this was first an issue, and still get 300 likes and 25 reblogs on art I post.

#tai talks #its just incredibly frustrating #it just makes me think my art isnt worth the rb and I know im not the best artist in the world but cmon #i cant tell you how EXCITED i get when i see someone rb my art and write things in the tags i get SO excited #and I go back and I re read peoples commentary all the time i really do #i just saw this ratio on my most recent art pieces and it made me kind of upset im ngl #it just gets me thinking why do i even bother posting things #i post for the 5 people that always rb my art i love you guys more than you could EVER know

[icewindandboringhorror]

boy in silly sitting positions compilation

#cats #I especially like the last one where he just has one single paw poking out of that box for some reason lol #I still have costumes to post and like a billion other things.... grr... constantly failing at staying active on social media aughh #I think because currently my Main Focus is on trying to get my game done and stuff.. which basically just means sitting and writing all day #so there's not much to post about. Though I know the Good At Social Media thing to do would be to post about the #writing and share progress and talk about the game and characters or whatever to try to build interest or something but that is SOOO weird #to me.. I could maybe get it if it was like a tiny tiny discord groupchat of playtesters with like 5 people in #it.. But something about talking openly about things before they happen is weird to me?? Like presumptuous feeling or something #''oooo guess whats gonna happen LATER!!!'' like.. how do you know.. what if it doesnt. what if you dont finish it. what if its not the way #you think it's going to be. what if something changes. etc. Like I literally avoid movie trailers and game trailers for the same reason ghj #Even if it's not ME doing it it just feels... weird.. Maybe it has to do with my OCD and how I just don't like talking about ''future'' #things in Certain Terms. Like if I was going to say ''Oh yeah sure. come over to my house in a few months''. I would have to follow it up #with like ''HOPEFULLY you can come over to my house in a few months'' or 'They'll come over in a few months MOST LIKELY''. Because just #stating that something will happen matter of factly takes for granted like.. what if somehting horrible happens and I DONT have a house #in a few months? or what if something bad happens to me. or to the person coming over? I can't ever DEFINITELY say with 100% certainty #that one could ACTUALLY come to my house in a few months. anything could change. So I have to allot for that in my phrasing. hbjjkn #There are a lot of situations where you're expected to just Assume Things but for some reason that bothers me. My brain literally does not #even Assume the most basic things.. like how do *I* know that just because it's someones birthday that they want to be wished a happy #birthday? what if they dont? everyone is different and has different preferences. I should check with them first. or wait until they public #ly announce that theyre accepting birthday wishes. I have to allot for all 5034859069 rare possibilities at any given time and never take #anything for certain. etc. ghjbjhbh.... ANYWAY.. I have been feeling a bit sick lately as usual.. but still slowly making progress on some #things. Moslty I need to edit costume photos. make sculptures. and work on the game. Going back reading some of the old writing from like #2018 and suprisingly I don't have to change that much of it? In fact I like it mostly. so that's good. I would be very interested if I were #playing the game myself. Though that doesnt mean much since my tastes are so niche lol.. #Still really want to clear some of my million tumblr drafts as well... alas and aughh and ooughh and so on and so forth. Between all of my #evil appointments other such things...why cant I have one billion dollar to retire into relaxed hermit artist life of no stressors.. bleas

[bittersweetresilience]

it feels cosmically unfair that i think about writing all the time want to write all the time and sit down to write all the time and i come up with two sentences at best. there should be some reward system i think

#RAAAAAAAAAA #the thing is i know why i'm stuck it's because i get overly wrapped up in meaningless details of word choice and sentence structure #and i need every word to be perfect before i can move on to the next and that just creates an interminable cycle of being so slow to #progress i feel like even more like a failure and imperfect and respond by being even more intense about it #in spite of the fact that almost no reader is going to look at my work and go hey nice i noticed you used a word with an aesthetically #pleasing number of letters here as opposed to a word ending in t which would have ruined the flow and disgusted me forever #but it's not about the readers i'm the one who reads it and gets disgusted forever #and i know this does not matter but it feels like there is no conceivable way i could write something without it being perfect first try #fucking hilariously i edited the tags of this post for a good ten minutes because the spacing of the words was bothering me so i had to #find words with different lengths as replacements #RAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA #anyway i'm doing wonderfully #this is about soulmate au i think maybe because it's so important to me i'm especially perfectionistic over it right now #brain can you stop it i'm on my hands and knees #also t is the worst letter invented hands down. no question.

[derpinette]

SPERG YOUR HEART OUT

#EVERYONE #NOW !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! #& FOREVER #i love it when my friends &/or mutuals post about their interest & Passions i will like your posts but really i Loved them. #i deleted some tags because they might be interpreted as weird(er than usual) but 0_0 i am ♯Passionate about ♯Passion (for fashion - Bratz) #still kind of feel like a worthless human being but i secured another hangout in like a week so yayyy ^_^ #I GET TO BOTHER SOMEONE TOO NOW i just wish people did that to me too why am i like always the one raving #literally have to beg my friend to give me updates on her things even if i normally hate it even i go out of my way to look for things #for us to discuss -_- GIRL please i am for real not just faking for politeness who do you think i am I WANT TO KNOW #so effin excited OMG i have like so much to say & the greatest thing is that this girl has no knowledge at all about my Thing #so i can explain from the very beginning You literally have no idea how much i practiced the conversation in my head #ever since she told me & she said she wanted me to go on & talk about it more i have been Devising My Plan #OMG YAYYYY ^_^_^_^_^_^ AIMU SO HEPI AAARRRGHHHHHGSJDJSHSJDHSHSG #& OFC i had to plug it in the first time i met her in person i just could not help myself there was an NF on that day & i told her i wanted #to catch it i had to go in the end for a different reason & BTW it was such a whiplash the show itself was so fun but the winner... 0_0 NO. #next i will ask her about berserk & maybe even read it so we can talk about it because she really likes it #i dropped it when i was 14 because the laptop i was using to read it was complete crap Just like mine is RN #like a section of my keyboard is completely dead T_T so i have to use the on-screen one...

[maddy-ferguson]

#me

#this is what the average person on tumblr is missing. what i meant when i said the average person on tumblr should see misogynistic men talk #on the internet regularly they would benefit from that #not incels or andrew tate guys. normal guys #in november #and like i say: brf slt #i remember in 2016 when i was just getting into feminism as like a thing of the present the big thing on french twitter was for guys to say #meuf = pute: girl = whore. they would just say this. 24/7. not even a creative way to be misogynistic. but i was like oh! #then when girls would talk about getting harassed they would be like you made this up you're too ugly a film directed by quentin #tarantino etc. i think one of the most frustrating things they do is say no boy has ever sexually harassed a girl in middle school because #all they thought about at that age (that age being. from 11 to 15) was football and video games like OH MY GOD we were literally there #i mean no there's worse a lot worse but it's one of the most annoying ones like how are you all coming together to collectively #gaslight us #i could give more examples but it's not that interesting just these people HATE US!!!!!! #it's never just one or two guys or even ten or even twenty it's SO MANY PEOPLE just united by their hatred of women...heartwarming #in a way #but whatever i know people are awful on the internet or whatever but these people exist irl i'm pretty sure. im just not blissfully unaware #i'm sure that's nice. it's probably a bliss even. frustrating for normal people who have to interact with that though #or maybe not for normal people misogyny is a very widespread thing idk if you know this...frustrating for me! #like why does seeing frankly misogynistic tweets kinda not bother me as much as seeing posts that act like misogyny isn't a thing. at least #they're honest!!!!! #like it does feel very bad. but i'm used to it. kind of

[cerealmonster15]

does anyone else have moments where you look at someone in ur notifs and you’re like, not sure if someone that follows you was like, a mutual that you never talked to that you maybe accidentally unfollowed, or if they weren’t ever a mutual but you just got so used to seeing them in ur notifs / you have a lot of overlap in the tags you post in lol

I can think of like 5+ people where I start to go like 🤨… WERE we mutuals…???

Especially during the April fools booping like that button was so close to the follow/unfollow like what if I unfollowed a mutual and didn’t notice !!! Or gained a mutual accidentally LOL

#Don’t even get me started on side blog confusion lol #Or like. Opposite of that where I thought I was maybe mutuals with someone #But then I see he following thing #But we barely interacted before so I was like #Maybe I just imagined the fact that we were ever mutuals??? #Which is possible. P sure I’ve been in both sides of that one lol #Anyway NOT THAT IT MATTERS!!!!!! #Mutuals r lovely but so r the people we just pass by via posts in the tags #Or like the mutual in laws Lolol #Omg but there are a few people. Like two or three ??? #That def do NOT follow me and I follow them #And they randomly show up in my notifs #Like not even a post I made. Just randomly reblog and like a post or two that I just standardly reblogged #It doesn’t bother me but ever y time I’m like HUH WHY ARE YOU IN MY HOUSE #It’s pretty funny #And they COME BACK every so often!!! #How do u keep getting in here…. #Anyway. It’s just funny things 2 me #I had a lil caffeine bc I was falling asleep earlier and now I’m thinking about Everything