#not graphic but i should have mentioned it

[athanza]

Starlett - Part 3

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Final part

2296

Suddenly Irene looked unsteady and she held a hand to the wound on her side.

"Fancy seein' you here." She chuckled painfully.

"I know, I haven't changed a bit."

She laughed but immediately regretted it, groaning in pain.

"You uh," she said, blood dripping down her leg. "you wouldn't happen to have a stimpak on you would ya? I'm uh...I'm not feelin' too hot."

He looked her over, the gash was deep, she'd need more than one stimpak. "Unfortunately I don't think I do."

Suddenly her legs gave out from underneath her and she collapsed.

"Whoa." He said, catching her before she hit the ground.

Irene woke up hours later, lying on her back in what looked like a small cave, her head resting on a saddle bag.

She didn't look any different than she did before the war, albeit a little dishevelled, Cooper figured that however Moldaver survived must've been how she did.

"Coop." Irene croaked.

He looked up from cleaning his revolver and saw her try to move.

"Easy there Starlett, you're pretty banged up."

She winced in pain again and lay back down. "I thought you were dead." She said, weak from the blood loss.

"I should be. So should you."

"Fate had other plans I guess."

Cooper scoffed quietly. She didn't press it, even though she wanted to know if Janey made it.

"You're gonna need some proper medical attention." He said. "Ain't much out here though."

"Eh, it's just a scratch." She joked, swallowing a mouth-full of blood.

Cooper got up and handed her a flask of water, half empty. She took a few sips and handed it back.

"I'm lookin' for Lee, you know where I can find 'er?

"I've been looking for her myself, I'm afraid I can't help you there, I've found nothing but dead ends. The bitch is hard to find even in a fucking desert."

He smiled a little at the very different tone coming out of her mouth than he remembered; she must've been in the wasteland for a little while, at least.

"I'm glad I found you cowboy. You're about the only fond memory I've got left. I needed that right about now."

"I'm not the man you remember."

"Doesn't matter. You've reminded me of something I haven't seen in years."

"And what's that?"

"Kindness."

2077

The doorbell rang and Cooper opened it to find Irene looking remarkably understated compared to her shows, but she still had that aire of grace that she always carried with her no matter where she was.

"Come on in." He smiled, stepping aside for her.

"I can't thank you enough for letting me stay, I know its a lot of ask of someone you just met."

"It's the least I can do."

He closed the door and took her suitcase for her.

Janey appeared with Roosevelt, having been playing in the backyard and Cooper gestured to her.

"Irene, this is my daughter Janey. Janey this is Irene, the friend from work I was telling you about."

"Irene Taylor!?" She said, her eyes sparkling. "I've seen you on TV! Your voice is sooo beautiful! You definitely should have won the award on last month's show."

Irene and Cooper both laughed.

"Looks like you have a fan."

"That's very kind of you." Irene smiled sweetly.

"Janey, why don't you watch some cartoons while I show Irene to her room?"

"Ok." She beamed and sat down with Roosevelt in front of the TV.

Irene followed Cooper to the back of the house where the guest room was and looked at all the family photos as they walked through. Wedding photos, Janey's baby photos, a puppy photo of Roosevelt. When they finally reached the room she felt even more uncomfortable.

"This is you." He said, placing her suitcase on the bed.

"I'm so sorry to put you in this position Mr. Howard, I do appreciate it very much. I didn't know who else to come to."

"Don't worry about it." He smiled warmly. "I'm just glad you decided to leave."

"So am I. You made me realise the cause wasn't worth the abuse, no matter how much I told myself it was. Lee won't be happy but it'll be worth it in the end."

"I'm sure it will."

She smiled softly at him. "I'll let you get back to your daughter. You'll barely know I'm here."

"Nonsense," he said. "You're joining us for dinner, plus I'm sure Janey would love to spend some time with you."

She got choked up a bit at that. Everything she had done since getting into show business had been for other people, someone doing something like this for her was something special.

"Thank you Mr. Howard."

"Cooper." He replied.

2296

Irene lay sleeping and Cooper sat wondering what to do with her.

He couldn't spare any resources, and he didn't need stimpaks, so he had none. Could he carry her to Filly and get her to a doctor? Sure, but that was in the opposite direction of where he was headed, where they were both headed.

It would be more humane to shoot her now to save her the pain, but he couldn't bring himself to do it and it angered him.

"Fuck." He said, getting to his feet and picking up his gun, walking out of the cave in search of supplies.

[casualartisanninja]

This was a long time coming.

So, first of all I’m sorry that this took me so long to make, but there was a lot of information to sift through. I’m not planning on coming back to Tumblr in any capacity beyond this but the truth needs to be out there. (And if you're curious about the profile picture/description/etc, I had to dress this blog up a bit so it didn't look like a bot and trigger any algorithms.)

Content warnings for this post: 

Heavily discusses kinks and has screenshots of fetish art

References grooming/pedophilia accusations

References transphobia/harassment accusations

This is going to be an EXTREMELY long post with lots of screenshots, so the rest is under a cut.

Edit: Here is the end of the post so you can read it all at once. https://www.tumblr.com/casualartisanninja/747977941832613888/loose-ends

The incident in Hobqueer’s server

I think a good place to start would be the spark that set off this whole chain reaction. 

I’m not sure how long I’d been in that server for when the NSFW in general incident happened. But one thing’s for sure - I didn’t start the conversation about NSFW topics. Like I mentioned on the Reddit post where someone had found me and started accusing me under my comment on the Janitor.AI post, I saw the people there discussing mpreg and oviposition. I looked at it and thought “wow the rules are a lot more lax than I initially thought!”. Yes, I know, looking back, that should’ve been a huge red flag. I also know that, looking back, I should never talk about NSFW in the general chat- even if everyone else is doing it. “If so-and-so jumped off a cliff” and all. I’m really sorry that I did that, and it was definitely a lesson for me.  But I really wasn’t thinking about that at the time. It wasn’t my intention to hurt anyone, and I especially wouldn’t have done it if I knew minors would be there. I know it wasn’t an 18+ server, and it was just a frankly idiotic move on my part. I just saw “Sniper pregnant” and pictures of the mercs with big bellies, and let my better judgment and reasoning get clouded.  However, the way that they’re portraying this incident is extremely intellectually dishonest. Gabriel failed to mention in his callout post that those minors were looking at and sharing fetish art of the mercs, leaving out most of the context for those. Thankfully one of my friends from Chipspeech (who I’ll leave anonymous) joined the server to check and see if the fetish art was still there. It was. Hobqueer and the moderators never deleted any of the discussion, and worst of all they left the fetish pictures up in full view of everybody. One person, who later admitted to being a minor in a dm, even gave a pretty graphic description of a tentacle hentai/mpreg comic. Be warned, this contains NSFW content. I blurred the names of anybody who isn't mentioned in this post.

I've run out of room for images, so I have to add the rest in another reblog. This will be a very long thread with a lot of images, so please bear with me.

[slytherinboysappreciation]

Bullied - Prof. T. R. x platonic gn!Reader

A/N: this was originally written for this request, but I realized it was too angsty so I made it its own thing. Please read the warnings carefully! They’re there for a reason! This fic is completely unedited with no use of Y/N. Please be nice, I’m an inexperienced writer 💛 Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated!!

CW: Bullying!!; descriptions of bullying; crying; shame; graphic descriptions of violence/injury!!; anxiety; mentions of the quills Umbridge used; detention; mentions of eating; Prof. Riddle becomes a safe space for reader; swearing; derogatory language towards reader; graphic descriptions of violence against reader!!!!; nausea; head wounds; vague mentions of blood; Dumbledore bashing; hurt/comfort, I guess; slightly fluffy ending?

I think that’s everything. Please please let me know if I’ve missed anything! If you don’t like it, don’t read it!!

2019 words

You were hiding in a corner of the library, silently crying. The library was your safe space; the only place in the whole school aside from your dorm where you didn’t have to worry about getting bullied.

And it had been invaded. Your bullies had come in today, destroying your peace with the very sight of them. Even worse, they’d ripped your books and blamed it on you.

Madame Pince had been thankfully skeptical, but the three of you still got detention. You were terrified of being in the same room alone for hours with those two.

As you sniffle and wipe your eyes, the sound of footsteps approaches your spot. You huddle up into a ball, hastily wiping your face in an attempt to hide that you were crying.

“You should be in bed.”

You look up, startled. It’s Professor Riddle, looking down at you with an unreadable expression.

“I— I was—“ You falter, unsure what to say. Telling the truth hadn’t worked with your head of house. There’s no way you’d expose your deepest shame to someone as imposing as Professor Riddle.

“Yes, sir,” you say meekly, slowly picking yourself up.

He watches you, hands tucked into his pockets. “Everything all right?”

Your eyes start to itch from crying so much. You rub at them before catching yourself. “Yes, sir. Just…”

He holds up a hand and pulls something out of his pocket. A handkerchief. “Next time, come to me.”

You take the handkerchief slowly. Next time… Was he saying… You couldn’t risk it.

“Yes, sir,” you mumble, starting to back away. He stops you with a hand on your shoulder.

“I mean it. Bullying has no place here at Hogwarts.”

You stare down at the floor, frail hope fluttering in your chest. You squash it with both hands.

“Thanks, Professor,” you say quietly. “But I’ve heard that before.”

With that, you shrug off his hand and walk away, clutching his handkerchief like a lifeline.

Your detention comes late the next night. You’re fully prepared for the usual horrors. Being forced to clean suits of armor by yourself until your fingers crack and bleed from the chemicals. Scrubbing floors till your knees are bruised and you can’t feel your arms.

Being a guinea pig for whatever malicious spell the two bullies of yours have cooked up.

Instead, you receive a different set of instructions. Your two bullies will be cleaning floors and suits of armor.

You will be writing lines with Professor Riddle.

You stare blankly at your head of house, baffled by the news. Writing lines? That’s a first year punishment, the easiest detention ever.

You show up outside Riddle’s office at exactly the time you’re supposed to. Without punishment or curses from your bullies, it’s easy to be on time.

You knock on the door, nervousness drumming through you. Why had he taken your detention? What was his plan with this? Was it some sort of worse punishment?

You’d heard about the cutting quills from Professor Umbridge’s reign of terror. Would this be something similar?

The door swings open, startling you so badly you jump. Professor Riddle raises an eyebrow but doesn’t comment on your action.

“Come in. I have everything set up.”

You slowly follow him in, your nerves building with every step. He’s supposed to be the strictest teacher. The hardest on his students and the one urging them the most to reach their ambitions.

You sit at the desk he’s provided you, looking over the paper and quill in front of you. They look… just like a normal quill and paper.

“They’re perfectly safe. I’ve used that quill before.” Riddle watches you from his desk, that same inscrutable expression on his face:

You startle. Then flush with embarrassment. “Sorry, sir. I’ve just had… bad experiences before.”

He nods. “Here.”

You watch in disbelief as he picks up his own quill and ink pot and brings them over to you. Then he takes yours and moves them over to his desk.

“Is that better?”

You just stare at him for a moment. Then your sense comes back to you and you nod. “Y-Yes, sir.”

“Please start with your lines. I’ve written the first one out for you. You will fill the front and back of the page.”

“Yes, sir.”

You lower your head and pick up the quill he’d given you. You don’t know what you did to receive such light detention, but you’re not complaining. It’s infinitely better than what you’d be doing otherwise.

You grimace at the thought and lower the tip of the quill to the page. With a deep breath, you start writing.

Over the next week, you start to warm to Professor Riddle. It takes two whole days to stop being so jumpy around him, and two more days before you slowly start to believe his words.

Mainly because he will not stop asking you about your bullies. About who they are. What they do. It would be annoying if it wasn’t so gratifying that someone finally seems to care.

You don’t really answer him, of course. You have enough self-preservation to know that much, but you do start to reveal smaller details.

Like how you’re always late to class because of them. Or how they bother you when you try to study. Or even how you’re afraid to eat meals outside of your dorm because of them.

Which is the reason you’re currently outside his office door again. You knock hesitantly, balancing your plate of food with one hand.

He opens the door and you walk in, sitting at the now familiar desk. You set down your plate and get comfortable.

“Thank you, sir,” you say quietly, picking up your fork.

“Of course.” Riddle nods and sits at his desk to eat his own lunch.

It’s strange; eating in peace for once. You don’t have to worry about slaps to the head or food being spilled on you or some new embarrassing secret being shared. You just eat your food.

It’s hard to admit, but Professor Riddle is starting to grow on you. He doesn’t make you talk; doesn’t force you to do things you don’t like. He just sits with that unreadable expression of his and lets you do the same.

You take your time eating your food, allowing yourself to savor the flavors. It’s a nice change of pace. One you could find yourself getting used to.

Once you’re done eating, you get up. “Thank you, sir.”

“Of course,” Professor Riddle says, glancing up from his own plate. “Enjoy the rest of your classes.”

“I will.” You give him a slight smile and leave his office.

Maybe things will actually be better after this.

You’re slammed against the wall. Hands grind your face against the stone, pinning you in place.

“You fucker!” It’s your bullies, clearly enraged. “You think you can tell on us and get away with it?!”

You panic, fear shooting through you.

“We almost got expelled because of you, you piece of shit!”

Your head is pulled back so you can see their angry faces.

“I didn’t say anything!“ you beg, starting to shake with panic and terror.

“Shut up! I swear to god, you dumb little—“

Your head is bashed against the wall. Your hearing cuts out, replaced by the loudest ringing you’ve ever heard. Your vision goes blurry. Something drips down your face, stinging your eyes.

Then, the hands are pulled off you. You’re vaguely aware of yelling as your legs give out and you crumple against the wall.

Your head throbs, pain shooting through your forehead as you lean your head against the wall. When you pull back to try and focus on it, red stains the stone.

Someone crouches down in front of you. A gentle hand tilts up your chin. You struggle to focus on the face, but your vision won’t cooperate.

The person says something, but you just blink. You can’t hear what they’re saying over the ringing in your ears.

Hands scoop you up, cradling you in strong arms. Nausea rises in your throat at the sudden motion.

The last thing you remember is throwing up.

You wake up in the Hospital Wing. You don’t remember much; just a bustling Madame Pomfrey and a warm, firm hand gently rubbing your back as you cry. The rest is a haze. It makes your head hurt to try and remember so you just give up.

After Madame Pomfrey pronounces you to be fine, you’re swept up to the Headmaster’s office. You sit nervously in a chair, fiddling with your fingers.

Headmaster Dumbledore’s normally kind expression has been replaced with a serious look.

“Hello,” he greets you solemnly. “I’m glad to hear you’re doing better.”

Something about the way he says it makes you doubt he means it. You say nothing in return.

Your Head of House bustles around behind you, muttering something under their breath. You look down at your hands and wish you were back in the Hospital Wing.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Dumbledore asks.

You shrug a little and don’t look up. “No.”

“We take bullying very seriously here at Hogwarts.”

You snort, then wince as your head aches from the action.

Dumbledore’s lips thin, and his look sharpens. “We understand you have been through some… issues with a few of our students.”

You bite your tongue to keep from saying anything rash.

“We’ve contacted your parents about the situation,” your Head of House adds. “But they haven’t replied yet.”

Your stomach churns. You’re well aware of that. Your parents have taken a hands off approach to your schooling since you started being bullied. You doubt they’ve even read the letter from the school.

“Unfortunately,” Dumbledore continues, “without the permission of a trusted adult, we cannot do much about the issue. The offending students will be given detention and strict warnings.”

“What?” Your eyes start to sting. “You’re just— You’re not going to do anything?”

Dumbledore raises his hands in a helpless gesture. “Without permission from a trusted adult—“

You can feel the tears building behind your eyes. “No! There has to be something you can do! I can’t— What if this happens again?!”

Dumbledore opens his mouth to say something when the door to his office flies open. Professor Riddle stands in the doorway, glaring at the Headmaster.

“A letter for you.” He says calmly. He approaches Dumbledore and hands him a letter. “I think you’ll find it contains everything you’ll require for the students’ expulsions.”

Dumbledore’s expression changes instantly. “Of course, Tom,” he says coolly, “I appreciate your care and concern for our students.”

Professor Riddle doesn’t even try to hide his sneer. “Someone has to do it.”

He gestures to you. “Come on.” It’s not a request. It’s an order.

You obey, getting to your feet and meekly following him out. As soon as you get down to the hallway, Professor Riddle turns to you.

“I’m sorry about that. You should be resting, not dealing with old fools.”

You blink up at him. “How did you…?”

“I owled your parents.”

He doesn’t elaborate and you decide you don’t want to know.

“Thank you, sir.”

He rests a hand on your shoulder and gives it a comforting rub. “Of course. Your bullies will be expelled by tomorrow morning, and you won’t ever have to deal with them again.”

Tears well up in your eyes. He truly means it. You won’t have to worry about getting to class, or about not studying, or anything like that again.

You throw your arms around him, hugging him tightly. “Oh, thank you, sir!”

He pats your back, lightly returning your hug. “You’re welcome. Now, go get some rest. I don’t want to see you out and about till morning.”

“Yes, sir!” You head off to your dorm, practically giddy with excitement.

You’re finally free from your bullies. You’ll be able to make friends again now. You can get good grades again. Live without fear for your wellbeing.

You don’t think you’ve ever been so happy in your life. And it’s all thanks to Professor Riddle.

[freelancearsonist]

a dieter bravo x nonbinary!reader-insert!oc series

This is it: your big break. Your first real role as a serious actor. It's a huge deal, a limited drama series produced by a major television and streaming network; it's slated to shoot you directly to stardom. All you have to do is not mess this up. Enter Dieter Bravo: your character's father, but your celebrity crush. Not messing this up just got considerably harder.

this reader insert character is: unnamed, afab and nonbinary (has female anatomy and uses they/them pronouns), neurodivergent, latinx, an actor playing a female character. I’m trying to keep them a physically blank slate but it is mentioned that they have longer hair (past shoulder-length) for the role and they wear a bikini for the role at one point as well. They are mentioned to be shorter than Dieter.

each chapter has its own rating and warnings. overall series rating is MA for eventual explicit content.

[COMING 04/26] chapter one: this is what it looks like, right before you fall

You meet the cast and vow yourself to professionalism as filming starts, but one particular costar tests your willpower.

chapter two: haven’t seen the sun in a while but i heard that the sky's still blue

It's almost midnight, and there's bumping and groaning sounds coming from the hallway. You should probably investigate, right?

chapter three: why i gotta build something beautiful, just to go set it on fire?

Emotions have been running high lately, and it all comes to a head on set during a particularly tense scene.

chapter four: and that’s the problem with a closed door

No one really knows how to handle what happened on set last week, least of all you and Dieter. You each go about it in your own separate ways.

chapter five: if life is but a dream, then so are we

The end of shooting is quickly approaching, and you have a lot to sort out before picture wrap.

chapter six: i always shine, even when the light dim

Press interviews and red carpet events have your entire life turned upside down--but in a good way.

header and title: @beskarandblasters ; dividers: @saradika-graphics follow @freelancearsonist-updates and turn on post notifications to be notified when new chapters are posted!

[moss-on-trees]

dp x dc prompt: dead on main au where danny leaves the joker's body on jason's doorstep as a courting gift

in this au, danny lives in the ghost zone full time. (he's also a little unhinged.)

along with the power boost he gained as the king of the infinite realms, danny's status as a half-dead half-alive being makes him develop the peculiar ability of knowing the cause of death of all ghosts and undead he encounters.

he meets jason on a visit to the living realm and falls in love with the revenant at first sight. since his ability lets him catch a glimpse of his crush's death, he decides killing the joker would be the best way to win him over, so he hunts down the clown, unalives him and wraps his dead body with a nice green bow and sends it to jason via portal along with a bouquet of asphodels.

cue the bat clan freaking out over the unknown entity who just gifted a corpse to their undead family member with no explanation whatsover.

(danny probably should have remembered to leave a note.)

jason is both creeped out and charmed.

[svampira]

i want irl artist friends *thinks and ponders*

[cattatoir]

Anyway this is what I mean by I want to see Adam and Jesus talk

[raspberryjellybrains]

its been a billion years since I posted anything meaningful about mcga but I'm thinking about Alex helping Magnus with clothes.

I think Blitzen would love to help style Magnus, but I think he might accidentally end up being a bit overbearing, albeit with good intentions. He wants to help, but would probably end up tripping over his own fashion opinions more often than not, and Magnus would want to make his friend happy too much to actually voice his own opinions consistently. But Alex would understand that identity through fashion is something slow to be discovered on your own. It's not instant, it's a slow process of trying things and finding out what makes you feel good physically and emotionally. You can't pressure a person finding their own style, especially someone who's never had much room to do so and will likely feel guilty about making that room. She's gone through the process, and she'd probably be more than happy to help someone with it too.

I'm thinking about them going around to different stores and finding that Magnus likes second hand and low-end boutique stuff more than anything. Alex letting him onto her etsy account and buying his first piece of jewelry, taking him around to all of her favorite stores where she's greeted as a friend. Yeah, they could do all this in Valhalla, but where's the fun in that?

I think Magnus would like earth tones and dark, muted colors. He would avoid synthetic materials for their unnaturally soft textures and blue would make rare appearances. Alex would parade him around in his first pair of White Guy Khaki Shorts in five years, glowing with a silly sort of pride and Magnus feeling something kindle back to life in his chest at a growing collection or flannels, just like his mom. I'm imagining Magnus learning what it's like to live with his body, rather than despite it, and feel comfortable with himself in his surroundings for the first time since he was a little kid, taking a hike in the woods. And I'm thinking of Alex holding his hand the whole time.

[athanza]

Starlett - Final part

Cooper Howard/fem!OC (not self-insert)

Tags: Hurt/comfort (sort of?), non-allowed romantic connection, lots of tention, pre and post war drama, romance, some fluff

Warnings: Mentions of domestic abuse (no graphic scenes or descriptions of that nature), angst, canon wasteland violence

This branches out from canon but I thought it was a cute story idea so I had to write it. Enjoy! ♡

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

2077

That night, after dinner, Irene found Cooper on the sofa with Janey asleep on his lap, watching an old noire film with the volume down low.

"Thank you very much for dinner Mr. H- Cooper." She corrected herself, speaking low so as not to wake Janey. "It was lovely."

He looked up as she walked over. "It was no trouble at all. Janey loved having you here."

She smiled at his daughters sleeping face as she sat down on the edge of the sofa. "You've got a good kid there."

He looked down at her proudly. "Yeah, I sure do."

"She reminds me of my baby sister, she lives with my folks in Sacramento. I don't get to see her much anymore with my work and everything with Frank and Lee. It'll be good to see her again."

"How long has it been?"

"Almost 2 years. I know my sister resents me for how much I'm away, but hopefully that'll change now that I'll be away from Frank, at least until the divorce proceedings." She sighed with uneasiness.

"You'll be fine." Said Cooper encouragingly. "You're stronger than you think."

"Ditto." She smiled warmly. "And don't worry about Janey, you both love her so much. She'll understand when she's older, I promise."

He smiled, touched by her words. "Thank you."

She looked into his eyes and saw something she never had, a good man, a man who loves unconditionally and stands up for his family.

She, just for a moment, imagined what it would be like if he was her husband instead of Frank, if Janey were their daughter, if this was her life and not the daily abuse she had been going home to every night.

She could feel emotions begin to well behind her eyes and she snapped out of it before she embarrassed herself.

"Well, I should get some sleep, I'll be leaving early tomorrow. Thank you again."

The warmness that emanated from her was a welcome comfort in the midst of everything that had happened in the last few months. He almost didn't want her to leave, but he couldn't let himself fall, not now, not for her. They were meant for another time, another world, not this one.

"Irene?" Said Cooper, stopping her before she left. "This whole thing with Vault Tec...something's happening, something I'm not sure we'll ever come back from.

You're free from it now. Whatever's coming...it won't be worth giving up your happiness."

What he said about Vault Tec concerned her, not that it was surprising, but he was right about her happiness, he was right about everything. She wasn't going to be held back any longer.

"Thank you." She said, smiling softly.

2296

The sky was still dark when he left the cave. He'd covered Irene with whatever he could find to try to conceal her from raiders, hoping nothing else would find her while he was gone.

He knew there was a clinic in this area somewhere but whether it had anything left in it was a gamble.

As he made his way hastily through the area, he couldn't stop thinking about her and it just made him angry, 219 years of trying to become the monster that he had to be in order to survive, only for her to show up and remind him of that warmth that he'd long since forgotten. It made him weak, but he couldn't let her die, not now.

He heard movement up ahead, two men laughing drunkenly as they stumbled to find somewhere to relieve themselves.

Raiders.

The cages and skewered bodies around the building were a dead give-away and their little base just happened to be the clinic he was looking for.

Jackpot. They definitely had a stash in there somewhere.

The two men separated to find somewhere to piss but just as one got comfortable, Cooper blast his head off and took the other one out just a split second later.

"Oh HELL no!" Came a voice from the doorway of the clinic.

Without hesitation, Cooper shot him too, a bloody mess left on the door frame behind where he had been standing.

He stormed inside, his pump-action shotgun in hand, willing to use up all of his ammo to get what he needed.

Bullets and wood chips were flying every which way, and he took a bullet or two, but it took him no time at all to obliterate every person in that building.

He searched hastily for supplies, and when he found a first aid box full of stimpaks and cotton thread, he grabbed it and left, picking up several blood packs on his way out.

2077

The next morning, Irene was up early, her bag already in her car when Cooper came out to meet her.

"You weren't kiddin' about leavin' early." He said, the clock in the hallway reading 7:12am.

"I thought it'd be best if I left earlier rather than later."

He knew why. He didn't argue.

"Give this to Janey for me, would you? I noticed she liked it and I know it'll be in good hands."

She handed Cooper a silver locket with a daisy engraved delicately on the front.

He looked at it a bit surprised. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I don't much care for it anymore. It'll be more appreciated with her." She smiled.

She did one last check of her purse to make sure she had everything and the tention in the air was starting to thicken. When she knew she had everything, she looked back up at him.

"Cooper?" She asked. "Do me a favour and don't let the world harden that heart of yours, ok? That part of people is important, even if it makes us feel weak, always remember that, ok?"

She leant forward and kissed his cheek. "See you 'round cowboy."

She smiled at him one last time before getting in her car, and as he watched her drive away he felt his heart ache a little. He would miss her, her warm smiles, and how she made Janey laugh, but it wasn't meant to be, and he knew that.

2296

He pulled off the foliage covering her now pale body and opened the case.

Her breathing was shallow and laboured, a puddle of blood underneath her that had started to coagulate.

He used one of the stimpaks, then another, then another until he had used all six, then pulled out the thread and started sewing up the deep gashes on her side that were sticky with blood.

He remembered the last time he saw her, her smile, the kiss. He remembered watching her drive away and wishing she hadn't. He remembered the last things she said to him.

"...don't let the world harden that heart of yours, ok? That part of people is important, even if it makes us feel weak..."

When he finished sewing, he hung up one of the blood bags and attached the long tube to her arm.

He was still and focused, hoping he wasn't too late, his hands now covered in her blood.

When she woke up after only a few minutes, she saw him sitting by the fire beside her and smiled sleepily.

"Hey there cowboy."

The End

[throwawayaccount3482348873289]

Response

Thank you to Jade/Lolthia @/edens-gemstone for replying to the previous post. I will make an exception in replying as yes, there was a part I forgot to add, which is additional evidence to prove that all your accusations in the comments below are completely false. Allow me to address them one by one.

At the end, I will include some follow-up questions to add additional context for other users.

THE ACCUSATIONS

“Also you literally stalked my tumblr after this, rb posts about Adam that I wasn’t comfy being rb and possibly sent me harassing anons (idk for sure)”

I do not have a Tumblr. This account is made by someone else, posting on my behalf. But if you really are confident that it’s me reblogging these posts and sending harassing anons, post the blog and the anons. If you don’t know for sure, why did you post this? 

“You literally just… didn’t want me included because I wouldn't let you ship your OC with Ibara.”

As seen here, this claim is completely false. I explicitly mentioned that I had no problems with the pairing, but asked them to let me know prior next time to ensure the RP is consistent. I may have vaguely talked about an original story I was writing with my OC and Ibara outside of RP, but within the context of the RP, I have clearly stated that I was fine with the direction Lolthia wanted. 

None of what they had mentioned was communicated to me at all before the start of the RP. They didn’t even acknowledge what I said, just responding with ‘well I figured it would be obvious’.

Lolthia’s behaviour here is consistent with their stated intention in the previous post: to RP not because they want to collaborate, but because they want other writers to expend time and effort to fulfil their self-ship fantasies, without giving as much in return. Therefore, they didn’t bother giving context, let alone asking if their RP partners were okay with it.

“You even stopped our RP after getting mad about me dating Ibara.”

Lolthia stopped the RP themselves after I confronted them for ranting on their public blog about a communication issue they were unhappy with in this server.

Someone alerted me that they were talking about their RP server on their blog. I was concerned about those in the server who were on Tumblr. As their RP partner, I requested that they delete it and talk to us first in the future. We then had the following conversation.

The conversation ended with this rude remark and Lolthia proceeded to be inactive for a long time before starting the argument in the previous post.

“I got tired of constant pings asking me for stuff”/ “I… asked to stop being pinged because I was going through enough”

I need you to understand that you are the admin of the server. We needed your help to create threads to hold our RPs in. Instead of not saying anything when we pinged you only to throw a tantrum about it, why didn’t you pass the permissions or moderator roles to someone else, or at least notify us that you’d be inactive for a certain amount of time?

In the post where we were planning an RP and pinged you - If your interpretation of ‘maybe they can come in later to keep the narrative consistent’ is us excluding you, that’s honestly a you problem, mate.

TO LOLTHIA/JADE

Only one of the claims you have made against me is correct. Yes - presently, I do not like you. But it’s not because you are whatever you identify as, or that you ship with a specific character.

I do not like you because you vagued your own server members, including myself, on your public blog. When I found out and asked you to edit out the mention of our server at minimum, you still had the gall to try to convince me it didn’t affect anyone but yourself.

I do not like you for insulting my friends and I as writers by saying we were ‘just an alternative to character.AI’ all along. And as people, by comparing us to the hate anons who had sent you death threats when we did nothing of the sort. Then, twisting the above into these accusations, without a shred of proof to go with them. 

I am a ROLEPLAYER. Ibara to me is no more than a character and piece of intellectual property.

You: 

Explicitly conveyed that your position was to use us to help you get validation for your alleged ‘relationships’ in a similar way to Character.AI.

Took out your jealousy towards other fandom members onto us, even getting emotional when we merely talked about and shared screenshots of characters you liked. 

When we didn’t give you attention to your liking, accused us of ostracising you and wanting you dead.

Threw a tantrum at us for pinging you for basic admin duties as the server owner, because it wasn’t attention or praise.

The only irrational one here is not myself, but you, and the hard evidence in these two posts is overwhelming.

I won’t be entertaining any further responses. Please be reminded that any attempt to post my personal information publicly will be met with action by me.

TO OTHER USERS

Q: Did you make both these posts and the document? 

No, these posts are follow-ups to the document containing evidence, made by a different person. 

Q: Why did you feel the need to engage them rather than leave the server?

We had already talked only amongst ourselves, ignored any vents they had and began our own server long before these events.

Engaging them was at first a personal choice to defend my friends, who had done nothing wrong. At the time, I was not aware that this was common behaviour for them.

The comparison between us and the death threat anons, which could affect my friends’ reputations, was the most compelling reason for me to attempt straightening this out.

Q: Why has this post been made almost a year later?

Yes, I do agree that from the looks of it, Lolthia’s actions are old news. After I was informed, I personally did not want anything to do with them, and decided to let it go.

However, recently, my friends in the same fandom spaces have not had the luxury of curating their own online experiences because according to them, they are constantly remaking blogs. Furthermore, it was not easy for them to work up the courage to make this post, as being wrongfully accused of wanting someone’s death is not easy for anyone. So, I decided to back them up with the hard evidence they lacked.

Thank you for reading. 

[jinxed-sinner]

Begging people who redesign Hazbin Hotel characters to acknowledge that the character designs in Hazbin Hotel are self-indulgent to Vivziepop while staying easy (or at least easy-ish) to animate (in fact, ease of animation is why Angel's third pair of arms are retractable).

I get that people really like the first designs of a lot of the characters but some of them would be so hard to animate and some of them just aren't great for the story Hazbin Hotel is. The thing with character design is it's important to make your characters look like they could feasibly exist in the same universe. Some of the older character designs, while they are drawn in the same art style, would just look weird and out of place next to each other (I feel like it'd be weird to see any version of Alastor next to Charlie's earliest design for example).

There needs to be a balance between making your designs dynamic and making them look like they could exist in the same universe, which Hazbin Hotel's character designs achieve (even Helluva Boss's human designs achieve this when imps and hellhounds aren't disguised and are interacting with humans).

I feel like sticking them all in suits also achieves this; while the characters are all from different time periods, putting Sir Pentious in a Victorian Era outfit and keeping Lucifer in his ringmaster outfit would feel really weird to me. Additionally, while they're all in suits, their suits are still unique enough to tell you something about them. Sir Pentious only wears a shirt and jacket because he's physically unable to wear pants. Alastor's jacket has wear and tear. Angel doesn't wear a shirt under his, instead deciding to expose his fluff. Vox's gives off the vibe of a CEO, with a radio wave theme on his elbows that subtly links him to Alastor. People act like the fact that they're all in suits makes them all feel the same, when their suits are all designed very differently from each other. Lucifer is technically in a suit but I don't see anyone talk about it because it's more reminiscent of a ringmaster's suit.

People complaining about the character designs without acknowledging why the characters are designed the way they are (that reasoning largely being self-indulgence) has actually led me to actively avoid any Hazbin Hotel redesign video with a voiceover that comes across my TikTok FYP. I'm not saying don't redesign Hazbin Hotel characters, because I think it's fun and I'd be a hypocrite for saying "don't redesign Hazbin Hotel characters," but I am saying that people need to acknowledge that Viv's goal very likely wasn't professional character design, it was very likely animation-friendly self-indulgent character design because Hazbin Hotel is, in essence, a passion project.

[ff2-soda-pop]

i dont wanna go into graphic design i dont wanna go into graphic design i dont wanna go into graphic design i dont wanna-

[thymewayster]

[messages below are by email]

Client: I’m not quite getting the incredibly in-depth explanation of a very simple concept that you emailed me yesterday. Can we do a phone call?

Me, a freelancer who deeply hates talking on the phone and has stuff scheduled today: Sure. I am available for a phone call from 11am-6pm your time tomorrow.

Client: Great, can we do 8am tomorrow? [which is 6am my time]

Me: No. I am not available at 8am. As I said, I am available from 11am-6pm. Pick any time in there.

Client: How about 8:30?

Me: As I said before, I am available at 11am-6pm your time. Please let me know what time in that range works for you.

Client: Does not answer back. 

Client, next day: Calls me at 6am and wakes me up when my phone goes off right next to my ear.

Me: Ignores it, puts phone on silent, attempts to go back to bed.

Me, several hours later: Wakes up to see several missed calls, all from Client.

Me, checking email: emails from two hours ago and one hour ago asking if he could call me now.

Me, emailing back: Hello. Do you want to schedule a call for later today or tomorrow? I am available today until 6pm your time or tomorrow from 11am-6pm.

Client: How about 6pm?

Me, absolutely fed up: You know what, sure, let’s do 6pm.

Client, at 6:30pm: *calls me*

Me: *pulls out the email I sent him two days ago with an incredibly in-depth explanation complete with screenshots and arrows pointing at the relevant items. Reads it verbatim to him over the phone and describes the screenshots.*

Client: Hmm. Well, I’m still not sure about that, but you seem to know what you’re talking about. By the way, can you make a quick little change that will alter half the project?

[andthebeanstalk]

I would like to state for the record that I am not going to watch Snowpiercer. And you can't make me.

[nutmegnautilus]

Poster design I made for fun. Inspired by blank VHS tapes from the 90s, y2k and retrowave trends, and a template I found on Canva that I misread