#I'm not sure what else to do to make it clear to people

[spaceclefairy]

Keep that Coffee Hot

You, a bounty agent. The Ghoul, a bounty hunter. The Ghoul needs to cash in on his most recent job and ends up with more than the contract promised.

When the Ghoul walks through the front door of your office, you know he's here for one of two things: a contract or a cashout. This no-name wasteland town is little more than a hub for the bounty agencies, so you get rough characters milling in and out of town all the time, but no one can clear a street quite like this Ghoul. You always know when he's back in town - the few people milling about scatter, and even the other bounty hunters coming through make themselves scarce. Even in the middle of a wasteland, he somehow makes the place even more desolate with his just presence alone. 

You don't mind the Ghoul, personally. Dealing with him is part of your job, after all - you're a bounty agent, he's a bounty hunter. You manage the contracts, he hunts the target, you give the payout when he's done. Easy-peasy. He's intimidating, sure, and dangerous, but he's always been all business with you, and he’s damn good for business. 

And if he’s a little flirty sometimes, well, you don’t mind.

This time when the Ghoul struts through your door, he’s dusty from the wasteland outside and carrying a grimy, drippy leather bag in hand. The leather bag squelches faintly as whatever's inside shifts around, dripping brownish liquid on the scrubbed wooden floor. He greets you in his usual way, with a howdy and a sugary darlin’, and plonks the bag down on your desk, goo oozing out from the seams. 

“Howdy, Coop,” you greet, eying the bag with glee. As you drag it over to you, it leaves a snail-trail of ick on the wood, staining it further. You peer into the bag and confirm it's the correct bounty in your contract.

“One mutant heart, as requested,” the Ghoul says. He watches you with a faint amused smile. “Never brought the bounty straight to the agent before.”

You dump the faintly-pulsing mutant heart out on the desk. It’s overly large - much larger than a normal human’s - and gray-brown, and it spurts little gushes of blood when you poke it, so you know it’s still fresh. You’re surprised it’s still working, but that’s why you paid for the Ghoul: he gets things done quickly. 

“That's because I'm the client this time.”

“Aw, you asked for me?” the Ghoul teases, only a little derisively, grinning at you. “That’s sweet.”

You roll your eyes. “I didn't ask for you - I gave the contract straight to you.”

“Straight to little ol’ me, huh?” he grins, resting his elbows on top of your desk.

Anyone else would have been shot for getting this close to you and your contract book, but you’ve always had a little bit of a soft spot for this Ghoul. It might be the flirting swaying your judgment. It might be that he’s actually fairly polite when he comes in - for a bounty hunter anyway. Regardless, you can’t deny you let him get away with more than you let the others who come in for payout.

“That’s what I said, Cooper,” you say as you duck down under your desk to retrieve a sack of caps from the safe and a case stocked with chems and rad-away. “You’re expensive, but you’re worth it. And I needed that done quickly.”

The Ghoul gestures down at the faintly thumping heart. “What’d you want with that guy anyway?”

“Ex-boyfriend.”

“Explains why you wanted his heart in a bag,” the Ghoul comments. He sounds vaguely impressed. “Your ex-boyfriend was a mutant with two heads.”

“Four heads if you count the two below the belt,” you reply. You hand the Ghoul the bag of caps first and the case full of chems second. “Here's your payout and a bonus for quick work.”

The Ghoul opens the case slightly and snaps it shut, apparently pleased by the way his non-existent eyebrows raise. He shoves the bag of caps and case into his shoulder bag and slings it back over his shoulder. “Much appreciated. You got anything else for me to do?”

“Plenty. Let me check the contract log.”

You reach for your book to check, but he stops you by dragging the book over to him. Truly, anyone else would have been shot. Not him. He flips open a page and runs a gloved finger down the crease in the spine, pretending to read whatever’s on the page.

The Ghoul glances up at you. “Are you in the contract log?”

You meet his gaze, eyebrows raised. “Are you telling me you want to do me, Cooper?”

“Sure am, darlin’.”

You lean back in your chair, eyeing the Ghoul where he stands. You’ve always liked his eyes. It’s the only part of him left that looks like there’s still humanity to him.

The Ghoul steps back. “But, if a ghoul’s not really your thing…”

“Didn’t say that.”

“Then what do you say?”

You pause, pretending to think, but you don’t really have to think about it. “Sure, why not?”

“You got a backroom or somethin’ or we just movin’ your book out of the way?”

You nod towards the door behind you, not that you’d be opposed to just fucking him here in the middle of your office. “Yeah, I got a backroom.”

Said backroom constitutes little more than a spare desk and chair with a window, but that’s really all you’ll need. There are no curtains for the window, so whoever walks by is going to get an eyeful of what’s going on if they peek in at the wrong time. You don’t particularly care, and the Ghoul surely doesn’t.

The hat and duster stay put as the Ghoul backs you up against the desk. He’s only a bit taller than you, but his presence takes up the remainder of the tiny, boiling hot room. The hollow, pitted flesh of his face appears raw and red, but his eyes are pretty and alert. His lips are dry and smooth against yours, raw like the rest of his skin. You don’t mind - there’s no room to be picky out in this wasteland town. 

You’re not sure how he’s not miserable in the heat of the tiny room, but it doesn’t seem to bother him. In any case, you drag him closer by his belt, fisting your hand in his duster.

The Ghoul kisses you again, then strips off one of his leather gloves with his teeth and tosses it on the desk behind you. “Guess a ghoul is a step up from a mutant, at least?”

You yank his belt open and shimmy his pants down over his hips - he doesn’t let you get them down any farther. “I like ghouls.”

“Well, then, you’re a fuckin’ weirdo, ain’t ya?”

You slide down the side of the desk and hit your knees, your back pressed against the creaking wood. “Works out well for you, doesn’t it, Coop?”

His still-gloved hand wraps around the back of your neck, the leather sticking to your skin in the heat. “Sure does, darlin’.”

You take his exposed cock in hand and lick him root to tip, grinning at the hiss he gives you. His hand tightens around the back of your neck, catching in your hair. He looms over you, his unoccupied hand planted on the desk, blacking out the sides of your vision with his duster. You slide your hand down around the base of his cock and inch your lips down his shaft, hollowing your cheeks out, and he groans, low and slow, hips twitching like he's fighting the urge to just bury himself in your throat. You look up at him, wrapping your tongue around the tip of his cock, and his eyes are dark deep in the hollows of his eye sockets. 

He doesn't tolerate your teasing long. No, he tangles his hand in your hair and presses himself deep down your throat until your nose is flush with his skin. You gag around him, and he grins, pulling out and thrusting back in so you'll gag on him again.

“That's it,” the Ghoul says, teetering right on the edge of breathlessness, “you take it so well.”

You punctuate his words by scraping your teeth down his shaft, which he seems to like by the way he slams himself down your throat. Your eyes water, and you can feel the tears rolling down your face as surely as you can feel sweat snaking through your hair.

“Look so good on your knees for me,” he says, threading his fingers through your hair. He catches your chin with his ungloved hand, tilting your face up with his cock still in your mouth. His thumb swipes through the tears staining your face. “Pretty as a picture.”

The backroom is only getting hotter the longer you're stuck on your knees, clothed and trapped underneath the Ghoul’s duster with him. You're sure you're soaking through your clothes by now. Your hand snakes down to undo your top and pants so you can get some relief from the heat. It doesn’t help much, but it’s enough to keep your head from swimming.

The Ghoul takes that as an indication you’re itching to take your clothes off (you are). He hauls you to your feet, picks you up, and deposits you on top of the desk, looming over you with a grin. You let him strip the rest of your shirt off and help him get your pants off of one leg. You squeeze his hips between your thighs and hook your foot around his back, pulling him flush against you. 

“Take off the duster, Coop,” you say, moving to tug it down his shoulder. “It’s too hot in here for that.”

He takes the hand clutching his duster and pins it down to the desk. “I think you just want me to get naked.”

You smirk. “That, too.”

He strips off the other glove with his teeth and grips your hip. “Maybe next time, doll.”

“Aw, you wanna fuck me again - oh, fuck-”

The Ghoul doesn’t let you finish teasing him, instead thrusting into you with a rough stroke. The words get caught in your mouth, and he loves that. “Cat got your tongue?”

“Dick,” you say, grabbing the front of his shirt and yanking him into a breathless kiss. “Just come here.”

The Ghoul yanks you closer by the hip and wastes no time rutting into you. He can’t decide where to put his hands and runs them up your hips, your sides, grabs at your tits, before finally settling one hand around the back of your neck (seems to be his favorite place to grab you) and the other hand down in your lap so he can press his thumb to your clit. You clench around him, and that just makes him thrust into you harder, rubbing tight circles into your clit.

You’re not gonna last long - not like this. It’s hot, and he feels so good, thick and heavy in your cunt, and the way he groans in your ear and licks at your neck makes you whine.

You can tell the Ghoul is getting close to from the way his hips start to stutter, pressing deeper into you, pace quickening. He yanks your head back by your hair and latches onto your neck, sucking a bruise into your skin.

He presses his lips to your ear, “Where do you want it, doll?”

“Inside,” you reply, tightening your legs around him. “Less cleanup. And I’ve got extra radaway.”

The Ghoul takes that to heart, pounding into you until you cum with a sharp whine. It doesn’t take him long to finish after you, spilling himself deep inside you. He pulls out, cock soaked and softening slowly, but he’s not done with you. He stuffs his fingers into your cunt to keep you full, pumping in and out, and keeps pressing down on your clit with his thumb. It’s teetering violently on the edge of too much, overstimulating you, but you cum again anyway, this time harder and louder from the aftershocks ripping through you.

You drop bonelessly to the desk when he pulls his fingers out, and you watch him idly through your comedown as he licks his own fingers clean.

After a beat, you clamber up onto your elbows. “You still want another contract?”

The Ghoul adjusts himself and zips up his pants, chuckling lowly. “I just fucked you stupid and you’re talking about work.”

You grab your shirt and pull it down over your head, climb down off the desk, and set to work pulling up your pants. “Gets boring around here - gotta keep you coming back somehow.”

He snorts. “Oh, babydoll, you’ll be begging to get rid of me if you keep that up.”

“Try me.”

“I could use another contract,” he says. The slow grin that spread across his face would give anyone else chills. “Let’s see what you’ve got in your little book out there.”

[forever-rogue]

you asked for fallout request, so here i am, eagerly writing this…

i’ve been craving a cooper howard x reader oneshot where him and the reader are navigating through life in their own way. maybe a run in with tricky people?? angst?? fluff??? it’s up to you best friend. THANK YOU!!!

AN | Alright, let’s goooo. First go around with Cooper and we had to go with some fluff because that is my specialty. I’ve loved Fallout for a long time and I love the show too❤️

Pairing | Cooper Howard (The Ghoul) x fem!reader

Warnings | language; gun violence

Word Count | 3k

Masterlist | Main 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

You weren't sure if you'd call yourselves friends.

More like…an unwitting duo of sorts. Unwitting on your end more than anything.

You'd promised him that you absolutely didn't need company or anyone to assist you. He'd insisted that the only way he'd let you go on your own was over his dead body. You'd contemplated that idea for a few moments. Given his reputation, you decided not to push him too much.

The realization that he was a stubborn old man who wasn't going to change his mind was the only reason he was still next to you. Begrudgingly, mind you.

“How much further, darlin’?” His deep voice cut through your internal monologue and you shot a glare in his direction, “I'm starting to think you're not the best judge of distance.”

“If you're just going to complain,” you pointed over your shoulder back to the last town you'd passed through, “you're more than welcome to go back and terrorize that town. I told you that I didn't need you to come with me.”

“And why would I listen to you, huh?” He rolled his eyes lightly as you scoffed, “you'd be dead before the sun went down, sweetheart.”

“So what?” You turned on your heel, walking backwards so you could face him, “why do you care?! You don't even like me!”

“Contrary to what you believe, I do have somewhat of a conscience,” his voice was gruff but somewhat soft, “and if I let you go and then heard that you were killed, I'd be a little annoyed.”

“Why?” 

“Because I’ve already saved your life once,” he so sweetly reminded you as you sighed heavily, “and I didn't just save your life so you could go and be killed by someone else.”

“Ain’t that sweet? You’re a modern day prince,” you mocked his twang as his expression refused to shift. It was almost annoying how unfazed he remained the majority of the time, “I had it handled. You happened to come at an inconvenient time.”

“If that's what helps you sleep at night,” he had to fight to hold back a laugh as you turned back around and you marched in front of him, making it a point not to look back at him. He had to be the most infuriating person you'd ever met. He'd had two hundreds years to perfect being annoying and he had done exceedingly well.

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The two of you had been traveling together for a number of days. You'd managed not to kill each other, luckily, but otherwise things had remained mostly the same. Silence, and if it wasn’t silence, it'd be harsh words and fast quips.

You didn't hate him - not really. You hated the idea that anyone, let alone a man, believed that you needed help. You'd had things handled and would have kept yourself safe. He'd just happened to come fight when you were in the midst of either killing or getting killed. 

He wasn't going to let that go anytime soon. That much you already knew about him.

“It’s cold,” you announced as the two of you made camp for the night. You pulled your jacket tighter around your frame but it was no use, “I’m cold. Can we make a fire?”

“That, princess, is one of the many reasons you need someone out there to keep an eye on you,” if you didn’t know any better, you’d almost have thought that he was being kind - nice. 

“Listen,” you sat down and leaned against one of the trees near the clearing you’d decided to call home for the evening, “I know it’s not exactly safe or the best idea, but I’d rather do that than freeze.”

“It ain’t even that cold,” he mused, stripping off his overcoat and tossing it over to you. You made a sound of surprise, but didn’t hesitate to put it on, “life really was different for you, wasn’t it? I’d say it was almost as easy as those vaulties had it.”

“It wasn’t…” you knew he wasn’t wrong. You’d come from a place of privilege, having been born into a family with wealth, new world wealth anyway, and had it pretty easy for a surface dweller. You’d lived in a large, well stocked and safe home with people around to do your bidding. Those were some of the perks of having a father that was some sort of merchant prince, “it wasn’t like that.”

“Yeah?” he rolled out his bedroll, a bitter laugh escaping him, “sounds like you had nothing to do and everything done for you.”

“I mean…” you trailed off, knowing it was futile to lie to him. He’d known your father after all; Cooper Howard was the one sent to fetch you and return you home once your father had found out you’d run away, “it was…good sometimes. There were a lot of bad times too. But I still know how to do things for myself. I could kill you with my bare hands if I wanted to. I’ve done it before.”

“Huh,” he grabbed a vial and downed it one go, his eyes never leaving your face, “guess that makes you a killer. Just. Like. Me.”

“I did what I had to do,” you swallowed thickly, blinking back tears that threatened to well up. Cooper knew that you had run away, but he didn’t know the full extent of what had happened to cause you to run away, “and we’re here.”

“Tell me what happened,” your eyes snapped to him as you tried to weigh his words in order to see if he was being serious or not. He’d never really taken an interest into your personal life, but you wondered if that was because he genuinely didn’t care or if he’d just created some sort of creed for himself that didn’t allow him to get close to anyone, “what made you run away from your sweet little life, darlin’?”

“Cooper,” you wiped your hands on your thighs and shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. You’d never really said his name before and that caught him off guard, “does it really matter?”

“It’s still buggin’ you, clearly,” he mirrored your position and crossed his arms over his chest, “and we ain’t got nothing but time.”

You inhaled deeply before slowly exhaling and looking at the sky. You could feel his attention still focused on you, “my father told me that there was a man I was going to marry. I told him no and he told me that I didn’t have a choice. Said man found me shortly before the wedding was supposed to happen and he…he tried to…”

You paused for a moment, wiping away the tears that had unwittingly rolled down your cheeks. Cooper’s gaze had darkened but he was still watching; the expression on his face looked like he was ready to commit murder.

“He didn’t get a chance to do anything,” you said softly, “I killed him before he could. But he managed to get me a little bit when he was trying to fight me off. That’s why I had a black eye and all the bruises.”

“Darlin’-”

“I didn’t hesitate, Coop,” your expression steeled as you looked him in the eyes, “and I won’t hesitate now. A man will never tell me what to do. And I don’t need anyone thinking I need someone to protect me.”

Cooper had been listening with rapt attention, his mind already thinking of the things he could do to your father.  Bringing you back to him definitely wasn’t one of those things. He’d made up his mind about that almost the moment he’d met you. You’d been sporting a black eye and cut lip, dried blood caked on your hands and arms. He was smart enough to put two and two together.

“For what it’s worth,” he looked back at you with the gentlest expression you’d seen on him, “I’m sorry for what you had to go through. Those are not men, those are monsters.”

“And you’re going to bring me right back to him,” it was a question presented as a statement. You weren’t entirely sure what his plan with you was; you’d been scared to ask. But he also wasn’t hadn’t mentioned a word of bringing you back to your father, “aren’t you?”

“I ain’t bringing you back,” he admitted and you couldn’t keep the surprise off your face, “I never was. I’ve been around a long time, little girl. I know what your father is. I figured it was a better option for me to find you than someone else.”

“You’re not?” you hated how small your voice sounded; how you almost sounded scared. In a way you were. Scared of going back to the place that you hated and would surely make sure you suffered, but you were also scared of forging a new path. You didn’t really know where you were going or what you were going to, “really?”

“On one condition,” of course. You waved your hand, motioning for him to go, “you admit that you have no clue where we’re going and we’ve basically been making this hell of a trek for no real reason.”

You tried to look serious for a moment, but you couldn’t help but start to laugh at how well he could already read you. Cooper was so taken aback by the soft, sweet sound that he couldn’t help the smile that tugged up the corners of his mouth. When you managed to catch your breath, you looked at him and cocked your head to the side, “I have no clue where we’re going and we’ve been making this hell of a trek for no real reason.”

“Honesty,” he pulled one of his knees toward his chest and drummed his fingers on it, “it’s refreshing. You’re gonna be alright, kid.”

“There’s a place,” you murmured after a few moments of silence, “that my mom told me about when I was little. She made it sound like this magical place. I guess really, that’s where I want to go.”

“I hate to break it to you,” Cooper said, “but magical places don’t really exist. They never really did.”

“I know,” you admitted softly, “it just seemed like that when I was young. She died a long time ago, but I’d always think about that place, going there someday.  She said it was west - just go west and you’ll know when you’re there.”

“Hmm,” he nodded and paused for a moment before getting up and grabbing some nearby sticks and bringing them to the center of the clearing. He started making a fire before you could even question him, “if it draws anything out, I’m sure we can handle it.”

“Thanks Coop,” you watched him work, an odd feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Once the fire was going, he settled down near you, “Cooper?”

“Hmm?”

“We are going west, right?” your question caused him to chuckle before he reached into his pocket and pulled something small out that he passed over you. It was a small silver compass worn and weathered just like him.

“I’m sorry to tell you, sweetheart, but we’ve been goin’ east for the last couple of days,” he shrugged as you groaned at yourself. At least you didn’t have anywhere to be at any particular time, “had I know we’ve been searching for a magical place, I could have told you we were going the wrong way.”

“I guess I’m not as handy as I thought,” you grumbled to yourself, clutching the compass tightly in your hand, “you know you don’t have to come, right?”

“I know,” he nodded, “you think anyone could force me to do something against my will, you don’t know me at all, sugar. Now stop your yapping and get some rest. We’ll start heading west at sunrise.”

You paused for a moment, pulling his coat tighter around you, “thanks, Coop.”

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next couple of days of trekking passed in relative peace. The two of you were now making your way west for whatever magical place your mom had made you dream of you. You weren’t sure why Cooper was still with you, but you weren’t about to complain. He provided some decent company since you’d had your little heart to heart, but he owed you nothing. You weren’t exactly complaining; he was the closest thing to a friend you’d had in a long time.

But, as things would have it in the wasteland, life threw a wrench in your plans. A wrench in the form of two raiders that definitely weren’t looking to get chummy. 

“Ugh,” you groaned as the two figures approached from a distance. The two of you were outside of a saloon, trying to decide whether to keep pressing on for the evening or staying put and turning in. Cooper followed your line of sight and made a sign of annoyance, “why do I feel like they’re going to make trouble?”

“Well, darlin’, that’s because they’re about to make trouble,” he touched the brim of his hat and pulled it further down. 

“Look who it is,” one of the men sneered at the two of you. He looked about as unfriendly as they came, “the Ghoul of the hour and his little bounty.”

“We heard you were having some trouble delivering her back home,” his partner came up and eyed you without shame. He looked disgusting with greasy hair and rotting teeth, a sinister expression on his face, “so we came to take over.”

“Go fuck yourself,” you spit at him, reaching for the dagger that was at your side. You felt Cooper reach for your hand and gently squeeze it in order to stop you from making any rash moves.

“What this charming sweetheart means is that she is not going back with you,” Cooper smirked at them, “so you can run along now.”

“Fucking Ghoul,” the first man snarled at him, “you couldn’t even do your job. Turn the bitch over and we’ll let you go alive…or whatever the hell you are.”

“You can go back to my father and tell him that he can go fuck himself too,” you hissed, blood boiling with sheer annoyance and anger, “and if you don’t turn around right now-”

“What?” His voice was sticky sweet and filled with vinegar as he smiled at you; both of them had pistols in their hands and that made your stomach churn. They could easily get the jump on you, “you’ll kill me?”

“No,” Cooper pushed you behind him and looked at them with a grin on his face. Of course he’d  be enjoying this, “but I will.”

“Why don’t you just-” but the man couldn’t get another word in as the sound of the gunshot rang through the air, causing you to stumble backwards and cover your ears. A second shot rang out within seconds and you saw the other body fall to the ground. 

It happened so fast that you couldn’t help the shock that ran through your body, causing you to let you let out a loud sob. You’d seen death before, you’d seen things much worse than before but there was something about the moment that was overwhelming. 

Blood spattered the side of the building, causing you to dry heave as you noticed the bits of brain and bone clinging to it. Your ears were still ringing as you tried not to completely lose your grip on reality.

“Hey,” you heard his voice cut through the fog and you felt his hand on your shoulders, helping to keep you steady and upright. You shifted your gaze up and found his eyes concerned, “hey.”

“I-I…” you couldn’t even form a proper sentence as you looked at him, “they…you. You saved me.”

Before he could even respond, you threw your arms around him and held tightly onto him. He was taken aback for a moment before he hugged you back, and you could feel his breath of relief. There was something so good and reassuring about the feel of his arms around you.

“You would have had it handled,” he insisted and you shook your head. 

“No,” you looked at him and to your surprise he gently wiped away your tears, “I couldn’t have. I couldn’t have saved myself this time. Thank you.”

“No need to thank  me, darlin’,” he took your chin in his hand and kept your gaze on his, “I’ll be right here if you need me.”

“I do,” you wrapped your fingers around his wrist and nodded slightly, “I do need you. Don’t go.”

“The only place I’m going is west,” there was that smile again, the one that rarely graced his features. The same one that made your legs feel like jello, “are you comin’?”

“Yes,” you promised, “I’m coming.”

“Well then, we best get goin’ sweetheart,” he glanced over the carnage that he left behind, “before someone else comes to make trouble.”

He checked himself over to make sure he had everything ready to. You missed the feel of his touch almost immediately. 

Once he made sure he had everything, he held his hand out to you.

You took it without hesitation. 

[jqnehr]

❝ 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐝𝐚𝐲, 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐧'. ❞ | boothill.

boothill x fem!reader.

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and boothill meet in a bar, and have a very nice chat (aka, you flirt like mad).

𝐜𝐰: SFW!! no use of y/n, alcohol consumption (it's a bar come on now), bar banter/flirting. (pathetic attempts at) funny haha humour, and ermm well inspired by old 1950s western films (my dad adores john wayne i cannot escape them HELP), but like in the hsr universe yk. this one was meant to be funny because i had a BALL playing around with boothill's CANONICAL censor oh my god i love him. imagine calling him a fucktard and the only thing he can clap back w is "you son of a biscuit-eating bulldog" (what the french toast?) or something idk. can he say that? or can he only say nice things—anyways enough rambling 😔

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: (continuation from above basically) this man i tell you. i can't sleep. can't eat. he plagues me. day in and day out. i do not have the funds to pull for him. how dare he look at me with that sexy smirk? ain't got no money pal sorry. anyways here's a lil thing i wrote in honour of this man making my chronic fatigue worse <3 NOT PROOF READ. it is currently 12:44am as im posting this so there will be MANY typos haha im going to sleep now.

masterlist.

"You look like you should be in a saloon."

The gun-slinging Galaxy Ranger glanced up at the woman who just took a seat beside him from beneath the brim of his hat, drawn from his thoughts. She had taken a seat that was a respectable distance from him, two bar stools down, the message clear that she wasn't here to chat him up and lead him off to somewhere secluded and have some 'fun', but was only here for small talk and a drink. Good thing she wasn't coming onto him, too. Saved him having to turn down yet another woman looking for a fleeting one night stand.

He went back to absentmindedly swirling the malt juice around in his glass. Car oil, basically. He let out a small chuckle. "Ain't the first time I heard that one."

"Yeah? Makes sense. Fit's cool, though." She nodded to his cropped jacket, his spurred boots, his pants with their sides unzipped. She didn't seem to be bothered by the sight of his belt lined with ammo and a holstered gun. "What's that your drinking? Looks like engine oil."

"Malt juice," Boothill humoured her. "Can't drink nothin' else. Perks o' bein' a machine."

"Machine?" The woman lifted a brow, taking a sip of her beer. "Ah, gotcha. You're a robot?"

"Cyborg, yeah." It didn't matter if he divulged in her what he usually wouldn't. It was just tedious small talk, a nice weight off his mind, and he wouldn't ever see her again, anyway. "Got its pros and cons."

"I see." He was starting to become rather surprised at how...nonchalant she was about this. She lifted her beer jug to her lips once more. "So, what do you do for a living? Go around cosplaying as a cowboy?"

"Heh. If ya like, sure." Boothill was getting curious. It was once in a blue moon he came across someone as relaxed as this woman. "Let's say, it's my...signature look. Across the galaxies. Helps people remember me."

"You're starting to sound like a criminal on the run," she laughed lightly, only out of politeness, really. "Considering the people I've come across around here, I wouldn't mind getting you've got a bounty on that pretty head of yours."

"Uh-huh." He swigged the last of his malt juice. "Perceptive of you, sweets. You a local? Frequent?"

"Pretty much." She shot him a glance. "And it seems I was right. Eh, don't worry. I don't care enough about ya to turn you in. How much you wanted for, anyway?"

"A lot." Boothill grinned impishly. "Those IPC cuties keep bumpin' the ‘prize money’ up, if ya like." He made air quotation marks. "Yer'd be set fo' life if ya got yer hands on that money."

"I'm sure I would be." She really didn't seem to care. "If you don't mind me asking, what's your name?"

"Boothill," he answered, inclining his head towards you. "What about you, darlin'?"

You gave him your name, downing the last of your beer, before hailing the bartender over for a refill. "Nice to meet you, Mr Boothill."

"D'aw, shucks, haven't been called 'mister' in a long time!" Boothill flashed a toothy grin, showing off his shark-like teeth. He noticed how you didn't recoil, barely even blinked, at the sight of them. "Makes me wanna buy you a drink, sugar."

"By all means." You're never one to pass such a offer up. "And you like to flirt, too, huh?"

He watched you rummage around in your purse for something. You finally pulled out a compact mirror and checked your appearance in its tiny mirror. He leaned forward, took your free hand, and placed a kiss to the top of it, winking at you from under his cowboy hat's brim. "With such a lovely lady as yourself? How could I not?"

You laughed in a rather unladylike way—you, more or less, gaffawed—before retracting your hand and tipping his hat right down over his eyes, disorienting him. Your cheeks burned. "You're a funny one, Mr Boothill. You sure know how to woo a lady."

He adjusted his hat, huffing, leaning back in his seat. "I wasn't bein' funny. I like ya. I don't just kiss any old woman's hand."

"Got a little crush now, have you?" You raised your beer jug up in his direction as a friendly salute of sorts, grinning. "Cute of you. I like you, too, but I'm not letting you take me home."

"Ain't got one to take ya to." Boothill shrugged, not noticing how your smile suddenly vanished and you were looking at him. "Sons of biscuits made sure I couldn't have one no more, 'cause I wasn't about to let 'em get away with shady things they keep nicely under wraps."

"'Sons of biscuits'...?" You echoed, puzzled. You were also suddenly feeling quite sorry for the man. He was a roamer—a nomad of sorts, never stuck in one place for very long. That, you were instantly able to tell once you first laid eyes on his broad back.

"Someone had a little play around with my Synesthesia Beacon, so now I can't say nothin' mean—I'll try to say honey, honey, ugh. I'm tryna say honey." He tsked in frustration. "See? Can't say it."

"You can't swear?"

"Yep. Very aggravatin' at times. Whenever I wanna yell the s-word in combat, I just say somethin' ridiculous like 'terrific!' or 'groovy!' I sound like a right looney tune."

You chuckled. "I can tell that if you didn't have that censor on, you'd have the mouth of a sewer."

"Heck yeah. I'm goin' to town with all 'em bad words right now in my head," Boothill scoffed. "Love 'em, love 'em, love 'em—see what I mean? Hopeless. Wanna drop the f-bomb real bad."

"Perks of being a cyborg, indeed," you laughed, patting his shoulder. "It's rather funny to see such a tough-looking guy like you run around without anything else to yell but 'unicorns! Cotton candy!' when someone jumps you."

He snorted. "That's about right. Had one cutie pie try to mug me once and I was gonna swear his ear off, but all that came out was "look at this angel!" instead of 'punk', but it's a way more colourful word than that."

"Gotcha." You leaned your elbows against the wooden top of the bar. You opened your mouth to continued, but a sudden commotion at the other side of the bar cut you off. Glancing over also, you and Boothill watched as one drunk mountainous guy versus a scrawny little weasel of a man went tooth and nail at each other.

"How's the skinny one still alive?" Boothill amusedly remarked, leaning his cheek on his fist. "Looks like a cartoon."

"Happens all the time." You watched on rather boredly, almost wincing when the small guy very narrowly missed getting his face flattened by his opponent's massive fist. "Those two baffoons are too drunk to think of anything other than settle this scrap with punches. Makes for a good show, though."

Boothill hummed, before turning back to face you. "Can you fight?"

"Me? Well, I know basic self defence, and when to tell someone's spiked my drink." You pushed the beer jug around on the bar top absentmindedly. "This environment's dangerous for a woman. Gotta look out for myself around here. I should stay away, but I like my alcohol."

He chuckled, gazing at you. "Glad to hear that. You ain't some damsel in distress. You're really somethin', you know that, sugar?"

You blushed at his stare and words. "Oh, get off it. It's something every woman's got to know in life. We shouldn't have to, but we do. It's sad."

"Sure is." He pursed his lips, suddenly grave. He may have been a vagabond in a way, but that didn't mean he didn’t have morals. And then he playfully nudged you. "Ya know, seeing an independent, badass lady like you is real attractive."

You grinned. "Boy, if you were anyone else, I would've slapped you for that. That is an instant red flag for any woman in a bar."

"Well, I'll tell ya right now, I'd never harm a woman unless I had no other choice." Boothill stared at you. "Especially not for my own gain. Hurtin' people ain't fun, even though it's my lifestyle."

You shrugged, trying to ignore his intense gaze and the way your heart rate picked up. "A sad reality, but it's nice to come across a man with manners." You finished off your beer and stood, slinging your handbag strap over your shoulder, giving him a kind smile. "Well, thanks for the talk, Mr Boothill. You're a gem."

He stood after you, the spurs on his boots jingling with the movement, before he took your hand and pressed another smooth kiss to the top of it. Then he winked once more, just as a finishing touch, and your cheeks flared. "Any day, darlin'. Say, how about I give ya my phone number? Have another drink sometime."

"You sure? Your vigilante habits wouldn't get in the way of it?"

He laughed goodnaturedly. "Oho, that's funny, sugar. Nah, I'd always make time for you. Here, hand me ya phone."

So you did, and he swiftly typed in his number, before returning your phone to you. "There ya go. Send me a message so I'll know yours." Then Boothill stooped down to eye level with you, staring at you from beneath his lashes and hat, lifting a hand to ruffle your hair affectionately. "Till we meet again, sweetheart."

With that, and a lingering stare as he strode by, the cyborg cowboy left you stunned, heart pumping, phone limp in your hold. He was gone in a blink, giving you no room to wish him farewell also, so you did it by text.

you forgot to pay the bill for your drink

so I covered it for you.

you owe me one, cowboy

His reply didn't take long, and it made your face burn hotter.

Oopsies 🤭

How about I pay you back by taking you to dinner huh?

His emoji usage made you laugh. And so you accepted his offer.

Alright then

I want steak

Can you even eat?

You liked how he always replied fast.

Nah

But that's fine

Your company's better

Suffice to say, you liked the man's suave manner and flirty compliments. It made you feel exhilarated.

Maybe it was because of his classic cowboy moves. Tipping his hat to you in respectful greeting or goodbye, a gaze much too human for a cyborg, and his smooth gestures that made you hot all over.

Yeah. Maybe it was. But, either way, you couldn't wait to see him again.

© jqnehr 2024. all rights reserved. do not translate, repost/redistribute and plagarise any of my works.

[lanawinterscigarettes]

James Wilson dating someone who gets cute aggression

Warnings: cute aggression (duh) so there's mention of playful biting and such from the reader

A/N: this idea popped into my head randomly and I thought it'd be a big hit with my fellow Wilson lovers because honestly who doesn't get cute aggression when looking at him

I don't think Wilson would know what cute aggression is but I'm pretty sure he's used to people displaying their affection in less than conventional ways given that House is his best friend

He wouldn't have a problem with it, per say, but he'd certainly be confused to first time you do it

Picture it: he's sitting in his office as he fills out paperwork while you're waiting for him to finish. You're so bored and want his attention so badly that when he stops writing for even a second you take that as an opportunity to bite his hand

You don't bite hard enough to draw blood or anything, just hard enough to get his attention

He stops what he was doing and looks over at you with a befuddled expression on his face, his big brown puppy dog eyes full of confusion

"Did you just- did you just bite me?" It's clear from the disbelief in his voice that he doesn't know what to think. He'd never been bitten before, certainly not in such a casual manner

"Yeah, so?" You gave him a slight shrug as if it were no big deal. "Sometimes I bite people I like. Is that a problem?"

Being the little people pleaser he is, he of course says no. "Uh, not at all. I just- I wasn't expecting that"

He goes back to work, thinking that'll be the end of it. It's not, as you decide to take his indifference as an invitation to bite him whenever you get the chance to

It doesn't take that long for him to get used to your strange habits of biting him when he's not paying attention to you or squeezing him a little too hard when giving him hugs

If House finds out about your cute aggression (which, let's be honest, of course he does because he has no respect for other people's privacy) he uses that information as a way to get on Wilson's nerves all the time

"Nice bite marks on your hand. Did you get a dog recently, or is it just another act of affection from your doting partner?"

"Shut up, House"

"What? I'm not the one willingly giving myself up to be somebody else's chew toy"

In all honesty, Wilson actually doesn't mind your cute aggression, even if he knows he probably should

He always lets you playfully bite his hand or give him really tight hugs when you ask with no complaint, finding the acts to be oddly endearing for some reason

Even when you coddle and baby talk him the same way someone might speak to a pet the most he might do is roll his eyes or let out a loud exasperated sigh

"You're so cute, Jimmy, did you know that? It makes me want to wrap you up and never let you go"

"Well, it's nice to know you care about me, even if you are talking to me like I'm a dog"

"Hey, it's not my fault you have the biggest, most adorable set of puppy dog eyes around that make you look like such a little cutie patootie"

"You're as bad as House, did you know that?"

"I take that as a compliment"

"Of course you do"

All in all, Wilson loves you and knows that you love him, even if you show it in an odd way

Likes < reblogs | comments are greatly appreciated <3

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[darkeunology]

♡ Love is the Warmest Colour ♡

Word Count: 3228 (I'm amazed it's this long)

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of gunshot injuries, normal Criminal Minds violence, kidnapping, torture mentions (No explicit details)

Summary: In a world where soulmates feel each other's pain, you and Derek seem to be oblivious to each other's pains.

Not proof read. Not sure how I feel about this one tbh.

Soulmate: Noun: A person ideally suited to another as a close friend or romantic partner. 

Everyone in the world had someone who was destined to be their soulmate. It was a tale told to every child as a bedtime story, the exact way soulmates were known to each other. Shared pain - all soulmates in the world feel each other’s pain, Every scratch, punch or bump, soulmates feel it all but are never left with the physical marks from the injuries. 

Maybe not so surprisingly, a lot of people never actually found their soulmates, getting injured close enough to your soulmate so that both of you would realise anything was quite rare a feat, most people gave up trying to find their soulmate by their 20s, not wanting to waste their life trying to find the person suited best for them. Including you, once you’d hit 25, you’d given up - you thought it would be great if you did ever find them, but you weren’t holding out hope for it anymore, you’d now just ignore any of the pains you’d ever felt from your soulmate, which annoyingly for you, was a very common occurrence. 

—---------

As a child, a common question that was asked during class was ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?’ Everyone else in the class would always have an answer to this, Vet, Astronaut, Writer, Fireman, to name a few, but you never once had an answer, never a clear one anyway, you had no idea what you actually wanted to do in life, and even once you’d finished high school, you chose to not go to college, instead choosing to unfortunately bounce between jobs, starting out at retail, before moving to waitressing until eventually moving to the job you were in now, a barista at your local coffee shop. 

It wasn’t quite the life you or your parents had ever imagined for you, but you were happy enough; sure, you were living paycheck to paycheck, and you weren’t really able to treat yourself as much as you’d wished to, but it worked for you, and now, being in your 20s, you weren’t really sure how you could do anything else with your life. 

It wasn’t until the day you very nearly died when you decided you wanted to do something different. 

You’d just finished a lunchtime shift at the coffee shop, planning to go to the store quickly before you went back to your apartment, a good friend of yours coming round to have a girls night together after a long week at work. You never managed to make it home that night. Whilst walking to the store, a van stopped next to you, a young man poking his head out the window, asking you how to get to the highway from where he was. After quickly telling him where to drive, you turned your back to the van, about to start walking again when you felt yourself be grabbed from behind, a large hand covering your mouth to stop a scream from escaping - no matter how hard you tried to fight off the hands on you, nothing would loosen his grip as he pulled you into the back of the van, landing a quick, hard punch to your head, knocking you out immediately. 

When you finally woke up, you were tied up on what felt like a dentist’s chair. All your clothes except for your underwear missing from your body. A shiver ran through your body from the chill in the room you were in, the chill getting worse when the men who kidnapped you walked into the room you were in, menacing smirks lining their faces. 

Once your friend hadn’t been able to get in contact with you after you’d failed to get back to your apartment after work, they called the police, knowing that you would never be late coming home without letting her know beforehand, she knew deep down something had happened to you, especially with the news recently of young women being kidnapped and murdered in the are you lived in. She’d seen on the news that the FBI had already been called in after the last murder after seeing the press conference on the news the other night, she told them everything they needed to know and hoped that they’d be able to find you in time. 

Unsure of just how much time it had been since you’d been kidnapped, all you could focus on was the pain running through your body from the hours of torture you’d had to endure. It felt like you’d been here for days when in reality it had only been a few hours. The only thing that had kept you going the whole time was the hope that your friend called someone when you never showed up to meet her at your apartment. That hope finally coming true when a tall, dark skinned man jogged into the room, FBI vest on his body and a gun held firmly in his hands, “I’ve got the victim.” he spoke into his comms before placing his gun back into his holster, walking up to you, a gentle smile on his face, “Hey, sweetheart. I’m agent Derek Morgan with the FBI. You’re safe now alright. Medics are on their way down.” he spoke gently, his hands moving to carefully untie you from the chair. 

Derek stuck by your side every moment until they put you in the back of the ambulance, keeping you comfortable as everything buzzed around you, only leaving you when the ambulance left for the hospital.

He was the one good thing you tried to focus on whenever you had nightmares about the kidnapping. It took months of therapy, months of being scared to leave your house alone again before you were finally ready and able to do something about your life. You guess it’s because of what you went through, but you decided that you wanted to do what was done for you, you wanted to help people in the worst moments of their lives; so you went back to school, studying criminal profiling and psychology, graduating 3 years later before luckily managing to get a position in the BAU, the same unit who saved you nearly 4 years previously.  

—--------

Derek remembered when he was told about soulmates by his parents, his sisters told him afterwards that they all had the same talk when they were the same age. He was told one night as he was being put to bed, his parents telling him that there was one special person in the world who was a perfect fit for him, a person who he might never find but someone that would never be better for him. He was told that was how his parents met each other, his dad being hurt during a police job with his mother luckily being close enough to him that they knew almost in that moment they were meant for each other. He was told that any physical pains he would ever have would be felt by his soulmate and any pains his soulmate had would have, he would feel himself. 

As Derek grew older, he never really put much thought into soulmates, he knew how unlikely it actually was that he’d ever meet his true soulmate, with just how big America was, and the fact they might not even be American. He just figured that if he was going to find his soulmate, it would happen naturally - so, like most people, he dated anyone he wanted to, not caring, nor worrying if they weren’t his soulmate. 

At night sometimes, as much as he would never tell people, he would often imagine what life might be like with his soulmate, or just exactly how he would meet them. He mildly envied the people who had actually managed to find their soulmate, wondering how they got so lucky with how large the world is. 

Sometimes Derek would think he didn’t even have a soulmate, he often wouldn’t feel any random pains, only sometimes getting a pain in his foot, almost like his soulmate had just stubbed their toe somewhere - or sometimes a harsh pain in his arm, maybe a needle injection or someone hitting their shoulder too hard as they walked past them. 

So, even as Derek was for some reason in a lot more pain than he normally was, he didn’t really think too much of it. He was used to pain from his job so it didn’t really feel like much to him, he thought you were just going through a bad day. 

He never connected the pieces, even after his pain stopped once you’d been rescued. 

—-------

Nervous was an understatement as you stood in the elevator going up to the BAU office, you hid it behind a gentle smile as the doors opened, asking the first person you saw how to find Aaron Hotchner’s office. 

After getting your directions, you headed through the glass doors into the main office, walking up to Hotchner’s office to the curious looks of the other members of the team. You knocked on the door, walking in once you’d heard a ‘come in’ from the other side of the door. 

“Hi. Aaron Hotchner?” you asked, a smile on your face as you held your box full of your things in your hands, 

The man nodded behind his desk, standing and walking round the other side to be able to shake your hand, something you were just able to do with the box you were balancing. “Hi, yes. You must be Y/N,” he spoke, waiting for your nod of acknowledgement before he continued, “It’s a pleasure to meet you. Everyone else has just gone into the meeting room. I’ll show you your desk then we’ll go up to meet everyone.” he explained, a small smile on his face the whole time, before he led you out of his office, quickly showing you your desk so you could place the box down before leading you up to the meeting room, walking in before you, “Everyone, meet our new agent, this is Y/N L/N.” he spoke to the team, 

It took a moment for everyone to introduce themselves, Derek was the last to speak, “You seem familiar,” he spoke after he’d said his name. Everyone else took that to mean something different, since they all knew what Derek was like most of the time, so they were surprised when they heard Spencer speak, “Yeah, he’s right.” Causing the rest of the team to try and remember why two of their team knew your face. 

Sighing lightly, you glanced at Aaron, who already knew of your past, he nodded gently, signalling that you can tell them if you wanted to, “I must just have a familiar face.” you spoke, shrugging your shoulders. 

Thankfully for you, the team dropped it. Derek still giving you looks every so often, trying to figure out where he knew you from. 

—----

It had been a few weeks of working in the BAU, you’d managed to fit into the team really well. Already going on many girls nights with JJ, Emily and Garcia. You got on with the males in your team as well, but nowhere near as well as the girls. Garcia being the one you told everything to, including the day you were kidnapped and rescued by the BAU, and opening up to her about the small feelings you had for a certain Derek Morgan.

You’d also had a lot more pains from your soulmate in the past few weeks, nothing too bad, just some hard hits every so often, one being a nasty hit on your ribs one day at the end of a case, you standing with Emily and practically doubling over in the sudden pain that shot through your abdomen, “You good?” Emily asked, concern laced through her voice, 

“Yeah.” you gasped out, “I don’t know what happened, that just really hurt for a moment.”

“Must be your soulmate.” Emily spoke, you nodded in response, 

“Yeah, it must be.”

When you and Emily found out that Derek had been shot in his abdomen, luckily only causing a harsh bruise due to his vest, Emily was the only one who connected the dots about the pain you felt that day, deciding not to tell anyone else about her thoughts. 

—-----

“You alright sugar?” Garcia spoke when she saw Derek, noticing the obvious look of discomfort on his face, 

“Yeah, baby girl. Just got an awful headache, I took painkillers ages ago and it just hasn’t done anything.” he spoke, rubbing his temples, he knew from the fact that painkillers hadn’t worked that it would be a soulmate pain, 

“Soulmate maybe?” Garcia spoke, 

“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking.” He spoke, smiling at Garcia before getting back to work. 

It wasn’t until he sat down at his desk and saw you taking some painkillers when something clicked, “You good Y/N?” Derek asked, grabbing your attention and the attention of Emily who was sitting nearby at her desk. 

“Really bad headache. Painkillers are only helping a small amount.” you sighed. 

Emily was only looking towards Derek, a knowing look on her face, watching as Derek looked towards her, realisation slowly showing on his face, “Let me know if I can do anything to help.” he spoke, before turning back around, his only thought being that his soulmate was potentially his colleague. 

—----------

Oftentimes when you’d come into work, you’d go into Garcia’s bat cave, getting her some coffee and having a little chat before the work began.

A knock on the door interrupted you and Garcia this morning, “We’re meeting now. We have a new case.” JJ spoke as she poked her head in, her face looking grim. Both of you stood, grabbing your coffee mugs and heading over to the meeting room, being the last two to come in,

“We’re going to Florida.” JJ spoke, turning on the TV on the wall, “There’s been a series of murders, all women in their late 20s, all being found dumped in remote areas.” 

“Any sexual assault?” Derek asked.

“All of them had signs of sexual assault, yes.” JJ answered. “Newest victim is Stephanie Leigh, she was kidnapped yesterday evening after a night out at a local club.”

“All of these women were killed two days after they were kidnapped, meaning we have under 48 hours to find her alive.” Hotch spoke, his face serious like always, “Wheels up in 20.” he finished, getting up from his seat first as everyone else followed. 

—--------

You and Derek were in the car driving to the club where the recent victim was taken from, 

“I think I figured out where I remember you from.” Derek spoke, filling the silence that had surrounded you both for a while, 

“Oh yeah.” you spoke, knowing that Derek probably had, and dreading having to tell him he was right. 

“I think around 4 years ago, maybe more, we were called out to a local kidnapping case, the local cops were investigating someone kidnapping local young females and murdering them after torturing them for a few days, normally 2, but he’d accelerated his timeline on the last victim. We’d found the last body then a few hours later we were told of someone else being kidnapped - it was you.” He turned to look at you for a moment before putting his eyes back on the road,

“You were the one that found me first.” you spoke. Silence filled the car again for a moment, “I never told any of you purely because I just wanted to try and forget about it. I figured some of you might recognise me, but I hoped that you’d rescued so many people that you wouldn't necessarily remember one person you’d helped. Clearly though, you knew, and I think so does Spencer.” you looked towards Derek, “I’ll tell everyone else eventually” 

“I’m sorry for bringing it up,” he spoke quietly, 

“Don’t be.” You shook your head, “I needed to thank you anyway. All of you really. But you stayed by my side from the moment you found me until the ambulance left,” you paused, looking back at Derek, “I don’t think you realise how much I appreciated that.” you finished quietly, a sad tone in your voice. 

Derek turned and nodded gently at you, not saying anything else until you guys arrived at the club, continuing on with the case you were working. 

—--------

“I think we found our guy.” Hotch spoke after Garcia had finished her round of research she was given, the team headed out, finding the warehouse where the unsub should be holding the missing girl, rushing to get there before he murdered her just like the others. 

Spencer and you went round the back together along with some swat agents and other cops, checking each room until you saw the unsub running from you both, alerting the agents who were left outside, Derek being one of them. 

“We found the victim, she’s alive.” Emily spoke into the comms, just before Hotch spoke, 

“Offender running on foot northwest, me and Derek are in pursuit.” Spencer, you, Emily and Rossi all ran out of the warehouse, knowing the victim was safe with the rest of the police and the medics, hopping in one of the SUVs and going out to find Hotch and Derek. 

All in one moment, the most intense pain you’d felt before rang through your shoulder and your leg, causing you to yelp out in pain, making everyone else in the car jump, “Y/N!” Spence exclaimed, being the one sitting next to you in the back, “You okay?” he asked, at the same time Hotch spoke on the radio, 

“Shots fired, Agent down. I need medics to my location.” he practically shouted, the message finishing just as the SUV turned the corner to the alley they were in, Derek on the floor with Hotch knelt next to him. 

Confusion rung through you, the realisation never actually hitting you due to the pain in your body distracting you too much to think straight, “I can’t believe you’re a profiler and you haven’t figured it out yet.” Emily chuckled lightly, looking towards you with disbelief. 

“What?” you asked dumbly, 

“Get out the car and go to your damn soulmate.” she spoke again. You didn’t even think twice once the realisation hit you in the face, you jumped out the car, kneeling on the other side of Derek, one hand cupping his face, 

“Hey sweetheart.” he spoke, a small smile on his face even through the pain of the wounds. 

“Hey soulmate.” you smiled, “That hurt quite a lot you know?” finishing with a chuckle, Derek also chuckling before groaning in pain. “Sorry.” you whispered, noticing the pain he was in. 

“I’m taking you on a date once I’m better.” Derek told you, one of his hands coming to hold yours which was still on his face. 

“You better.” chuckling, you leant down and laid a small kiss on Derek’s forehead as the rest of the team watched on, smiles on their faces, relieved that the two of you finally figured it all out, even if you needed Emily to spell it out for you to realise.

[max1461]

The natural-rights-flavored Libertarian position is that people have property, and they generally don't want to give it up, so taxation requires the state coming in and using the (implicit or explicit) threat of violence to make them give up some of their property. And this is unjust because coercing people into doing things by force is unjust. I don't exactly think they're wrong about this. But the left-libertarian counter is that holding onto private property in the first place requires the (implicit or explicit) threat of violence, because you have to keep everyone but the property owner from accessing/utilizing the property. Like, people generally want to use stuff, and if you claim that you own something and nobody else is allowed to use it, then you need force to prevent them from doing so. And, again, coercing people into doing what you want by threat of force is unjust.

And, because property rights in our society are enforced by the state, it's generally the same institution providing the threat of violence in both cases! The state comes in and says "we recognize various people as the owners of various things, and we will use force to prevent others from using those things without the owners' permission. And also we want a cut for ourselves and will use force to make the owners give us a cut".

It's all part of one big system!

As I always have to make clear when I talk about this kind of thing: I'm not saying we should knock this system down (or knock it down overnight, or whatever), and I'm not even sure that I could come up with a meaningfully different replacement. I'm just saying that a sensu lato libertarian ethos of "coercing people into doing things by force is per se kinda fucked up", which I endorse, doesn't really get you very far in debates about the nature of property and the just way to distribute resources. A lot of right-libertarians think that it does, but they've just sort of prima facie misunderstood the nature of what property is. The "hard" anarcho-communist take, as articulated in e.g. the Conquest of Bread, is not prima facie insufficient as a realization of this libertarian principle, but it is I think just plainly empirically flawed; like I just don't think that Kropotkin is right about a number of crucial issues of fact.

The point is that if you endorse something like this classical libertarian principle, you have to keep contemplating how to implement it, because nobody has come up with a very good answer yet.

Me. I have to keep contemplating how to implement it. You are me, in this hypothetical...

[tac-the-unseen]

Pebble

König x reader fluff

A pebble.

A single pebble lay on your desk.

A dark Grey stone with little clear specks giving the illusion of sparkles. Not terribly unusual if not for the fact that rocks in all different smaller sizes keep showing up around your stuff. You have a jar filled with them. You had no clue why they keep showing up. Everyday one pebble just appears.

Its became routine. Wake up, get dressed, find the pebble, go to work.

You're pretty sure someone's fucking with you. Like 80% sure. You told your supervisors and higher ups. They've sent some to the labs and each time it was simply just a rock. Then will hand you back the shattered stone.

It puzzles you and everyone who knows about the mystery stones. You've asked night sift if they know anything and they just shrug their shoulders.

Some people think a bird of some kind trying to court you. Others think someone is pranking you. And you leen to the latter here. Someone has to be joking with you. Why else would anyone do this? At least the pebbles make you somewhat happy.

To König the pebbles were a simple act of affection without having to get to close to you. Every morning he would get up, go outside and find a rock he likes. Then after putting all his love into it (squeezing the pebble in-between him plams and say nice things to it) he places it somewhere you'd notice.

He's mesmerized your routine so you never catch him in the pebble-placing act.

He thinks that because the pebble makes him happy it will in return make you happy.

Sometimes he finds the rocks on his missions. The pebble catches his attention for a brief moment and then it's in his pocket.

He thinks the rocks are beautiful and wants to give you that beauty.

He would love to tell you it him gifting you pebbles but he's terrified you'll call him weird and file a harassment claim. So he just keeps it up.

He even found tomorrow's pebble.

Tonight was the night. Tonight you finally had the night shift. Tonight you were gonna catch the pebble-placer.

Buuuuut you forgot one thing......the night shift was sooooo boring. Your eyes bore into the green lit monitors. Watching for intruders who dared to step into the base.

Coffee slowly became your best friend. You and the other poor soul on grave yard duty alternated making rounds about the base.

You read the clock....0200....2 AM....Mina stood from her chair. She stretched like a she was praying to a God and then made a hum. " my turn then." You nod as she swayed to the door. She stopped then turn to face you "Should a bring back a snack?" You nod again "Fuck yeah. Anything is good." She smiles lightly at you." alright, see ya."

"see ya." You repeat.

You watch on the monitors as she wanders around. Then you foot steps outside the door. You look down at the screens once again. Only to see the person just out of frame. Just barely out of sight.

You grab the gun from your hip. While the chance of an intruder are slim it will never be zero. You point it at the door and stayed there.

The door knob slow turned. A tall figure pushed into the dimly lit room then it paused.

There stood König. Eyes blown wide from what little you could see under his sniper hood. His shoulders tensed and hitched up. His arm slowly come up as to look non-threatening.

"König? what are you do here this late??" You whisper shout as you put your gun back in the holder on your hip. He seemed to relax for a moment. You and König have been friends for a few years. Not super close but close enough to hang out sometimes.

He started to panic trying to find an excuse. "I-I...got lost...." he stuttered out. You don't buy it. Before you can say something, Your eyes travel to one of his hands. it looks like he's holding something. He follows your gaze and snaps his hands to his chest. "I'm sorry I'll leave." He scrambled to the door. Out of instinct you grab him.

"König get back in here!" You yank at his shoulder. He freezes again then turns to you. His eyes are filled with fear but he listens and steps back into the room. You close the door behind him and take a breath.

You move to look in his eyes. "König why are you actually here?" He responds with the shaky breath. He looks around and then looks at the door, planning his escape. He looks down at his hand. "Can....Can I show you something and you not make fun of me?" He says softly.

You nod your head. "of course König. What do you want to show me?" He trembles and slowly holds out his hand to yours. He grabs your hand and opens it. softly a little light Grey pebble fall out onto your plams.

Your eyes blow wide as you stare at the pebble. You look up to meet König's eye only to see him make a run to the door.

He's gone before you have the chance to say anything.

 ∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆∆

Minor editing to format!

This was my first post and it blew up on AO3. So if you've ever wondered who wrote the pebble head cannon, that me!

[bluerose5]

When Anders didn't show up for supper that night, Gale tried not to worry.

Given all that he had been through, Anders needed time to himself, he tried to reason, but it was a futile effort.

He could only pour over scrolls for so long before he went in search for him.

Not that he had to go far.

Anders was still in camp at least, perched on an outcropping of rock that overlooked the nearby lake.

He waved his hand through the air in intricate patterns, and wisps of light burst forth in an array of colors, forming shapes as he willed it.

Before Gale had a chance to announce his presence, Anders angled his head ever so slightly to the side and spoke.

"Surprised it took you this long to come find me," he greeted.

After a split second of hesitation, Gale stepped forward to join him, taking a seat on the rock beside him as silver moonlight shined down on them from above.

"How did you know I was there?" he asked, watching the first wisp dissipate before Anders crafted another.

"I was what my people called a Grey Warden, remember?" he said as way of explanation. "Always had to be alert in case of a random darkspawn attack." His face scrunched up then, nose wrinkled in disdain. "And it always paid to be vigilant in the Circles."

Gale watched him closely, how he steeled himself at the mere mention of the Circles, how guarded his expression became.

It hurt in a way that he had no words for, to hear what he had suffered in that Thedas of his for simply possessing magic.

It was mind-boggling to Gale, the very notion...

In an attempt to turn both of their minds away to less infuriating subjects, Gale nodded at Anders' light display.

"Having fun?" he asked, glad to see it when Anders cracked a smile.

"Yeah, I guess I am," he admitted in a small whisper. "It's calming, you know, to be able to cast for the sake of doing it. To not have to use my magic for battle for once. To not have to hide it for fear of the Templars or the Chantry.

"Maker, I can't even explain to you how happy I am to finally be able to wear robes out in the open again!" Anders laughed, even as his eyes started to glisten with unshed tears. "It might be strange, having to use a source of power other than the Fade, but..."

He trailed off with a shrug, then looked over at Gale, golden brown eyes drinking in the sight of him from head to toe.

Gale shivered when a nightly breeze trailed over him.

Goosebumps spread over his skin like wildfire.

Smirking, Anders leaned in and whispered, "But I had an excellent teacher."

Gale's heart skipped a beat.

"Is that so?" he breathed.

"Mm-hmm..."

Anders' eyes darted down to Gale's lips, and he sank his teeth into his bottom lip.

Gale swallowed thickly in response.

He couldn't help it. He was drawn in like a moth to a flame.

He leaned in closer as well, so close that he could feel Anders' breath upon his lips.

Their noses brushed. They adjusted the angle, but then uncertainty struck Gale at the most inopportune moment.

He averted his eyes with a bashful grin.

"I, uh, ahem." He cleared his throat. "Are we really about to...?"

"To kiss?"

"Uh-huh."

"I don't know," Anders answered. "Are we? Because I'm certainly not opposed."

"Neither am I," Gale said, perhaps a bit too fast, had it been anyone else, "but you deserve a more romantic display, surely!"

"Heh." Anders chucked and shook his head at him in disbelief. "Gale, what could possibly be more romantic than this? Here I am, embracing my freedom with a smart, handsome man such as yourself and getting swept up in the moment under the night sky. Let me spell it out for you: if there was ever a time for you to make your move, then this is it."

"Really?"

"Really."

"Okay, alright. On that note, I must confess," he told him, "that it has been a while since I've been with anyone physically. Turns out, self-imposed isolation isn't exactly conducive to matters of the flesh."

"No matter," Anders said. Reaching out, he grabbed Gale by the fabric of his robes and dragged him forward until their lips were only a hair’s width away. "I have to say it's been a while for me as well. Perhaps this is something we can explore again. Together."

"And Justice?" Gale asked, concerned. "Is he okay with this too?"

"Trust me," Anders said, huffing out a breath of a laugh, "you would know if he had an issue with it. He doesn't." Not now. Not when they had the luxury to focus their attention elsewhere. Not when they didn't have a current cause to consume their days. Anders tightened his grip, pressed himself against him. "Now, kiss me."

"You don't have to tell me twice."

Their lips barely brushed when a voice pierced through the darkness.

"Mr. Dekarios!" Tara called out. "Mr. Dekarios! Where are y— Oh, there you are! And Mr. Anders, too. How delightful!"

They jumped apart, wide-eyed with shock, when their resident tressym made an appearance.

Their faces instantly flooded with warmth, neither of them quite able to meet each other's eyes.

Tara sat down a few feet away, staring at them intently.

"Mr. Dekarios! The gravest emergency has occurred, and I need your immediate assistance." It was then that she sensed the tension between the two, her ears perking up. "Wait! I wasn't interrupting anything, was I?"

"No!" they both answered, but Tara was far from dumb.

"Oh, my! I was, wasn't I? Well, by all means, don't let me interrupt," she said, yet she made no move to leave, watching them as her wings fluttered.

Gale grimaced.

Anders had to slap a hand over his mouth to muffle his giggles, ignoring Gale's glare while he got to his feet.

"Why, Lady Tara, our conversation can surely wait in the face of what sounds like a dire circumstance," Anders said, bowing lightly to her. "May I?"

She tilted her head up and said, "You may."

Anders gathered her into his arms.

"What a gentleman!" she praised as he pet her. "Isn't he such a darling, Mr. Dekarios?"

"Yes, Tara, he is," Gale said, following their lead as he stood up with a groan. "Now, what is this emergency you spoke of?"

"Ah, yes!" She ruffled her feathers. "Sir Astarion left at the most inopportune time to go hunting. Usually, he is up for such a task, but my feathers need preening and my fur needs brushing before I head to bed. It is a task of the utmost importance, you understand."

"But of course," Anders readily agreed. "Let's see to that at once, shall we?"

"Leave it to you to encourage her," Gale sighed.

"Try not to get jealous," Anders teased, leading the way to his tent. "I'll make sure to spare some time for you later. We still have much to discuss, after all."

"That, we do."

[ladyloveandjustice]

You mentioned haruka kissing usagi when she was still dating michiru in the manga, and it got changed in the anime. Can you explain that to me and why it's bad?

I'm not really clear on the question here? To give further details of what happened, At this point Usagi didn't know Haruka's true identity, but had pretty much guessed, and she also didn't know her gender. Haruka really randomly kissed Usagi out of nowhere as Sailor Uranus while warning her to ~stay away~, Usagi had dreams about the kiss and wondered who Haruka really was, seeing Haruka in both her school uniform and the more feminine clothes she sometimes wore in the manga. When she woke up she was flustered and wondered if this counted as cheating...so yeah, dreaming about both aspects of Haruka turned her on. Then Haruka and Usagi meet up the next day, Usagi asks if she's a man or a woman, and Haruka leans in perhaps for another kiss, saying "does gender really matter?" But the Mamoru comes by, Usagi and Mamoru have a heart to heart about how he's been jealous and vice versa and then the plotline is just. dropped. forever. No impact on Haruka and Usagi's relationship going forward, no indication of how this affects Haruka's actual gf.

I'm really glad the 90s anime didn't do this (I'm not sure if they would have been able to, tbh, don't think the kiss would have been allowed'). It was big to see girls kissing in the manga and I think it gave a lot of young queer people so much of a thrill we didn't really unpack what else was going on, myself included. But it falls into a lot of unfortunate trope and make Haruka a despicable character-first in that she basically assaulted Usagi even if the narrative doesn't really treat it that way, checking off a predatory lesbian trope, and then she's remorselessly cheating on her actual girlfriend and we don't get any indication of what that means for their relationship because apparently that's not important. And then there's the aspect of Usagi leaving her lesbian dalliance behind to reaffirm her commitment to the heterosexual relationship, which feels gross. The plotline being introduced and dropped without any consideration for the impact on the characters makes it badly written.

In contrast, the 90s anime gave Haruka the habit of playfully flirting with every cute girl she sees, not just Usagi. It also hinted at Usagi's (and the other girls') attraction to Haruka without her needing to be assaulted, and there's no indication Haruka is interested in Usagi in particular. Haruka loves to hit on girls, and it's a habit Michiru's aware of and tolerates with an eye roll or quip, but both of them know she's never actually serious about her flirtations, and in contrast, as the season goes on, she becomes VERY serious about Michiru. It keeps the ladykiller who makes all the girlies question their sexuality aspect of Haruka without sacrificing her integrity or relationship with Michiru. The anime centers their relationship, and never forgets Michiru exists.

[rookie-chenford]

Don't Do This- Part two of Was It Worth The Risk

Description: @looby1302 This is the second part to 'Was it worth the risk'. I ended it here, because it is getting quite long, but also I wanted to do like a separate one for the months that their apart, if this makes sense lol.

Words: 2202

Warnings: I don't think there are any, but if you see any, please let me know and I'll add them.

Three days later...

Lucy groaned at the sound of her alarm blaring. She reached over and grabbed her phone, turning off the alarm. After placing the phone back on her nightstand, Lucy lays there, her arm on her forehead as the memories of their breakup resurfaced for the umpteenth time. She groaned at the memory and the tears falling down her face. Exhaustion was taking a toll on her body from the restless nights. 

A knock on her door pulls her from her thoughts. She takes a deep breath and clears her throat. "Yeah?" She croaks out. 

Tamara opens the door and stands in the doorway. "Hey, you doing okay?" Lucy props herself up. 

"Okay, as I can be, I guess." She sniffles. 

Tamara walks into her room and scoots Lucy's legs over so she can sit. "You going back to work today?" 

Lucy sighs. She doesn't want to, but she knows she can't avoid Tim forever. "I don't want to, but I need to." Tamara nods. "I mean you could always skip today and go back tomorrow." She smiles. 

Lucy chuckles lightly. "I wish, but I can't avoid Tim forever." 

"You still haven't talked to him about the baby situation?" 

Lucy groaned. "No. I don't even know what to say. I know we need to talk, but I honestly don't even know where to start. I mean, a baby won't change our situation."

"Just talk to him when you feel like it. I mean you do have like 7 or 8 months to talk to him." Tamara shrugs. 

"I know, but I do need to talk to him sooner rather than later. I mean I know he's not going to abandon his kid. We just have to figure out how to work this new dynamic, I guess." 

Tamara stands from the bed. "Alright, well, if you need someone to go with you to doctor's appointments," Tamara points at herself with a smile. "I'm your girl." 

"Thanks." Lucy smiles. "Go get ready for school or you're going to be late." 

"Yes, mother." Tamara mocks and laughs as she exits Lucy's room. Lucy shakes her head and chuckles. 

Walking into the station, she avoids as many people as possible and heads into the locker room. Lucy gets dressed and waits for everyone else to leave, giving herself a moment to give herself words of encouragement. She takes a deep breath and heads out of the locker room and towards the roll call room. Before she can open the door, Nyla is calling for her. 

Lucy lets go of the door handle and heads towards her. "What's up?" 

"I have a friend who needs a partner to go undercover with. You in?" 

Lucy thinks for a moment. She would love to go undercover and put her skills to use since she hadn't been on an undercover op in a while. But she no longer had herself to worry about. "I-I would love to, but there may be a little problem." 

"If you're worried about Tim-" 

Lucy stops Nyla before she can continue, not worried about Tim for the moment. "No, uhm, I'm not worried about him." 

"Then what's there to worry about?" Nyla questioned, not sure why Lucy was so hesitant. Usually, Lucy would jump for joy at an undercover opportunity. 

Lucy groaned and looked around. "Can we talk somewhere a little more private?"

Nyla still looked a little skeptical but nodded and told Lucy to lead the way. They headed towards one of the empty observation rooms. "Alright, spill. What's going on? You would have jumped at an opportunity to go undercover without a second thought." 

Lucy wrung her hands together, trying to form the words to spill out of her mouth. Nyla waited patiently, knowing this was unlike Lucy. "I, uhm, I'm-I'm pregnant." Lucy whispered. Nyla's eyes bulged out of her head. "What?" 

"Yea, I found out a couple of weeks ago." 

"Well, damn, congratulations." Nyla smiled. "But you don't have anything to worry about. I was pregnant with Lyla when I was undercover. You have to be a little more careful. But you and Niko, who you'll be going undercover with, are just going to be running drugs for now. Niko is trying to build rapport with the people he's in with, hoping they'll let him further into the group and find out who's supplying the drugs. But, at any point, if you want to leave, you say the word, and we'll pull you out." 

Lucy considered it for a moment. She could do it for a couple of months and then regroup once she was farther along in her pregnancy. "Okay, okay, I can do that." 

"Are you 100 percent sure?" 

"Yes. 100 percent." 

Nyla nodded. "Alright. I'll call Niko and we'll get started once he gets here." 

About an hour later, Niko shows up in the observation room with Lucy and Nyla. They review the details, what is expected of them, and how checking in will work. 

"One more thing," Nyla pauses, looking at Lucy and then turning back to Niko. "She is pregnant. So, if you feel the need to pull her out, you do it, whether she fights you on it or not. We've also gone over the risk and if it starts to become too much, she'll pull out." 

Niko nods, a little surprised at the news. "Okay. Well, as long as you're all good, I'm good." 

"I'm good." 

"Now that we're all on the same page, you both need to go get your affairs in order and then meet back here." 

Lucy left the observation room and went into the locker room to get changed. She quickly changed and headed out toward the parking lot. She barely made it out the door before she ran into Tim. Lucy quickly sidestepped him as he reached out. He quickly dropped his hand, sadness washing over his features. 

"I've been looking for you. Can we talk?" Tim was hopeful they'd be able to talk since they hadn't after the breakup. 

"I, uhm, not right now. I've gotta go," Lucy said, a little guilt washing over her. She turned to walk away, but Tim grabbed her arm, pulling her back. Lucy pulled her arm out of Tim's grasp, and he quickly dropped his hand. 

"What do you mean, "not right now," Lucy? I have been looking for you everywhere so we could talk. You dropped huge news on me days ago and haven't said anything since. We need to talk," He pleaded. 

Lucy scuffed, her eyes casting down at the concrete as she kicked her foot at an imaginary rock. "Yeah, well, I had something special planned to tell you, but you ruined that." Tears brimmed her eyes as the memory of her planning on telling Tim they were having a baby came to mind. 

A pang of hurt hit Tim in the chest. "I'm sor-" 

Lucy held up her hand, stopping him. "I don't need your apologies, Tim. Now, I gotta go. We'll talk later." She turned and walked to her car. 

Tim sighed as he walked back into the building, heading straight to Grey's office. He knocked on the door and waited for Grey to wave him in. He waved him in as he was finishing up a call. 

"What can I do for you, Bradford?" He asked after hanging up the phone. 

"Where's Lucy going?" 

Grey raised an eyebrow, confused about why Tim was asking. "She didn't tell you?" 

"Tell me what?" 

Grey sighed. "She's going undercover." 

Tim went pale. His world crashed around him as the word undercover passed Grey's lips. "What do you mean she went undercover?" Tim thought of all the worst-case scenarios that could happen while she was undercover. Their baby. How could Lucy put their baby in danger? "She's pregnant! How could you let her go undercover while she's pregnant?" Tim's voice was laced with anger now. 

Grey held up his hand. "We know. Her and Nyla talked about it and Nyla made sure Lucy was going to be okay. Nyla will keep extra tabs on Lucy throughout this operation. If at any point her partner, herself, or Nyla feels like she needs to be pulled out, she'll be pulled." 

Tim was at a lost for words now. He stormed out of Grey's office and headed towards Nyla's desk. Nyla saw the anger on Tim's face, but she wasn't phased by it. "Here we go." She muttered. Angela looked up, a confused look on her face. Nyla nodded her head, telling her to turn around. Angela turned to look and saw a furious Tim heading towards them. She turned back to face Nyla and raised her brow, wondering what was going on. 

"How could you make Lucy go undercover?" He seethed. 

"Lower your tone. I didn't make her do anything." 

"She's pregnant, and you didn't stop her," he accused. Angela's mouth hung open. The news of Lucy's pregnancy took her by surprise. "Lucy's pregnant?" 

Both Nyla and Tim ignore her. "But you sure didn't stop her." 

"Tim, I asked her multiple times if she was sure, and she was adamant about doing it. Communication and check-ins this time around are different. She can pull out in a week, a month, or two months; it doesn't matter. As soon as she says the word, she's being pulled out. The same goes for if her partner or I feel she needs to be pulled; she will be pulled." 

Tim storms off, and Angela hollers for him, but he ignores her. He can't believe Nyla let her go after finding out she's pregnant. He heads towards his shop, needing to drive around and try and take his mind off things. Just as Tim opens the driver's side door, it's pushed shut. He turns and looks at Angela, fury in his eyes. "Back off, Angela." He barks. 

"No, Tim. You can't go out on the streets like this. You need to calm down." 

"I'm fine," Angela scuffs. "Yeah, you sure do look fine. Your jaw is clenched, your shoulders are up to your ears, and there's fire in your eyes. But yeah, keep believing you're fine." Tim rolls his eyes. "What do you want me to say?" 

Angela ignores his question. "Are you driving, or am I?" Tim hesitates but pulls the keys from his pocket and hands them over to Angela. He rounds the shop to the passenger side and gets in with a huff. Angela looks over at him before starting the shop and driving off. 

They're silent for a while, listening to the radio as calls filter through to other shops. Angela is the first one to break the silence. "What's on your mind?" Tim thinks about it for a moment. Everything is on his mind, and he doesn't know where to start. "Everything," he says. 

Angela snorts. "Obviously." She pauses to wait, seeing if Tim will say anything. He doesn't, so she continues. "So," she drags the word out. "Lucy's pregnant?" Tim looks out the window. "Yeah." He whispers. 

Angela's eyes soften a little as she looks over at him for a brief moment. "How do you feel about it?" 

Tim shrugs his shoulders. "I mean, I'm excited." He pauses for a moment, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I just, I don't know. I don't know where this leaves us. I don't know if she'll ever let me be in the baby's life. We haven't talked since the breakup and I don't know what to do." 

"You know Lucy would never keep you from the baby. Just give her time. You'll both have some time to think while she's undercover. While she's undercover, go to therapy." 

Tim scuffs and rolls his eyes. "I can't even believe she went undercover." His anger was starting to bubble up again. "She-What if she gets hurt?"

"It's a possibility, and she knows that. But Tim, you also have to trust her and her instincts. Lucy wouldn't just go undercover without weighing her options. So this has to be something that won't put her in complete danger." 

Tim scuffs and rolls his eyes. "I just- I won't get to go to appointments and just be there for her. I won't get to hear the baby's heartbeat. I can't even ask her how everything's going. I don't know how long she'll be gone." His voice cracks at the end. Angela was just about to speak up when Tim's phone rang. He groans and pulls it out of his pocket, his breath catching as Lucy's name pops up on the screen. "It's Lucy." He clears his throat and answers. 

"Hey." 

"Hey, I've got to be quick, but I just wanted to let you know you're stuff is in a box by the living room. I know you know, so keep an eye on Tamara for me, please."

"Lucy, don't do this." 

She sighs. Their conversation pauses for a beat. "It's already in motion. I gotta go." She rushes. 

"Luc-" Before Tim could get anything else out, Lucy hung up. "Dammit." He whispers. Angela placed a reassuring hand on his arm. She knew this would be hell on him; all she could do was be there for him. 

[undead-potatoes]

I think if we stop putting certain companies on pedestals for being "better" or "different" from the rest, we'll stop being surprised when they do things just like everyone else

[bitchthefuck1]

I will never understand the fanfic impulse to take characters with thee most coo coo bananas codependent/nuanced/toxic/insane relationship and turn them into love interests #1 and #2 in a generic romance novel. like what is even the point anymore

[unopenablebox]

does the fact that maybe.... 25-50% of the time, i seem to be much, much better at rhetoric and message-crafting than anyone else in the room [union meeting] i am in, indicate that i have a moral duty to go full-time union organizer and be really all-in on Comms and Messaging

[caffeinatedopossum]

Events of last night:

Me: *crying*

My girlfriend: what's wrong?? :(

Me: *struggling to form words* intrusive thoughts are bad... I don't want to talk about them because then I'm scared that they're true and you might think I'm awful

My girlfriend: ah I actually get that. I have those a lot. It doesn't mean anything though, intrusive thoughts are just like dreams. Like the things you do in them aren't really things you want to do, it's just stuff your brain comes up with.

[fionnaskyborn]

there's something to be said about the very specific feeling of frailty you feel when you come face to face with just how little you've experienced. twenty-odd years on planet earth and you haven't really watched all that many movies. an unlived life facing an uncertain future. i do not know where to point the finger of blame because i live untethered from my past, floating in the present with no clear point of reference no clear definition of who i am or what happened to me and how i turned out the way i am (fucking. can you guess why five is my favorite game. insert that one lyric from that one modest mouse song.) but you're still here, and you can still learn, and you can catch up, but it still feels like you're a pitiful little nobody looking for excuses trying to explain why you're still new to the whole being alive thing. i've got a good head on my shoulders, though, for all that's worth, so i think i might be fine.

in other news, i watched scarface tonight. it was certainly a movie. don't really understand how the movie made it big, but it did have some damn good music. i mean, i don't know. i'm still learning about the world i live in. maybe it really is as much of a masterpiece as people make it out to be and i'm too dumb to see the reason why it's considered a classic. maybe i'm right. i can't tell at the moment. it's kind of a beggars can't be choosers situation - if you ain't watched that many movies, then you can't really be a good judge of quality. but, oh, well. it's one more movie watched. it's a win because i watched a movie. and i'll watch more movies.

[essektheylyss]

Okay, this book draft is not going as smoothly as fic does, natch, but I have finally gotten to a point where I'm able to identify which dominoes I've set up need to fall to make the ending come together, and that is such a goddamn relief.