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acapelladitty · 12 days

Note

The Ghoul x Knife Kink

Hotter Than A Match Head

Pairing: The Ghoul (Cooper Howard) x Female Reader

Summary: A late night fuck turns into something more when Cooper decides to bring his knife into the fray. (1.1k words)

(tw for: knife play, rough sex, nipple play, dirty talk, threats of violence, mild blood, dom/sub dynamics)

Link to AO3

Fic Masterlist

Fucking Cooper was like being trapped in a hurricane; a constant flurry of movement, of your body being manipulated, shaped, and generally thrown around with minimal care. The ferality which he so closely monitored and kept at bay only ever appeared to slip through as he ravaged your body without mercy - by hand, by teeth and by cock.

He was relentless in what he wanted and reckless in his pursuits.

But not tonight.

Tonight he was much more careful in his considerations as he pinned you to the dirty floorboards of the abandoned house you had agreed to spend the night hiding out in. The floor was cold and gritty against your back but you hardly notice it, so engrossed by both the cock which was spearing your cunt and the wicked ghoul attached to it. A man who had pinned you to the floor many minutes before and was currently rolling the edge of his hunting knife across your chest like he were mapping out an assault.

You had watched that same knife sink into countless bodies, living and dead, and the graze of the serrated edge against your collarbone was electric. It was a blade which had seen more violence than most, but the dexterity with which he wielded it was stunning to see. A skill which had led to more than one heated fantasy that Cooper had finally seen fit to make a reality.

"Don't move." Cooper threatened, his eyes ablaze with unfettered arousal as they loomed free of his sunken face. "Don't wanna accidentally slice off something that I might miss."

At the warning, he rolls the flat of the knife across your right nipple - the nub peaked and already reddened by his teeth as he had 'perked' them up earlier in your little game. Shuddering at the sensation of the cool metal, your hand grips even tighter at his forearm and the leathery skin there has very little give beneath your clawing fingers.

His knife glints in the meagre lighting, a single, shitty lamp providing illumination against the dark room, and you tighten around him; your cunt as wet and willing as ever as the thrill of his knife adds an extra layer of danger that makes you dumb as all fuck and desperate to see it used.

Writhing and groaning as he trails the edge of the blade across your skin, not deep enough to cut but with enough harshness to threaten, a cruel smile splits his ragged lips as his bright eyes refuse to leave your expression.

"It really makes you this willing, eh? Haven't seen a bitch in this kinda heat for a long time, sweetie. Maybe I'll even throw ya a bone."

Swiping the knife free of your chest, he continues to lazily thrust within your cunt - his thick cock making every rut of his hips feel like your walls were being hollowed out and punished - as he taps the knife against your stomach in a slowly descending pattern.

Your knees spreading even further, heels determined to gouge out a section of his lower back as they push into him roughly, a keening moan slips free of you as he teasingly grinds the butt of the knife against your engorged and somewhat neglected clit.

It's a fresh hell; sparking pleasure mixing with overstimulating discomfort as your most sensitive nerves are subjected to the cool leather and cruel pressure of the knife. It's a rough texture, every ridge making you flinch and whine, as the sudden onslaught has you stuttering out a slew of utterly incomprehensible pleas which simultaneously beg him for more while demanding he stop.

"It would be so easy." Cooper muses, pulling the knife away and letting it hang between his fingers as he presses his hand to the ground. "You're far too soft for this kinda life. Cut me and it don't make a difference. Hell, I'm not sure I'll even bleed. But you-" He trails off, his groin never ceasing in its movements as he continues to deliver shallow, punishing thrusts to your cunt.

"You should do it." You pant, meeting his aggression by rolling your hips against his groin to stimulate every pulsing nerve in your sex. "Cut me. Mark me as yours."

"Can't be doing that, darling." His breathing very quickly grows ragged, his cock noticeably jerking within your cunt at the lustful demand. "Cause I might never stop. By the time I was finished, you'd be painted even redder than I am."

"Cooper." A keening whimper as his hand abandoned the knife to wrap around your throat, squeezing and testing the skin there as he enjoyed the sensation of you swallowing around his fingers. "Please. Just one. Just a-an intital. You can choose where."

Punctuating each sentence with a thrust of your hips as you remained pinned beneath him, the ridges which sat along the hollow of his nose appeared to flare for a moment as he considered his options - interest alighting behind his darkened eyes.

"You're a tricky one, sweetheart. I've known seasoned whores that're less convincing than you."

It's almost a purr, his accented syllables glossing over the backhanded compliment like an old blanket, but he complies anyway as he releases your neck and snatches his knife back up, the point coming to rest on your hip.

Stilling your movements for just a moment, the feeling of his cock as it stretches you out with its unrelenting heat growing more and more intoxicating. Every passing second is a constant discomfort which makes the pleasure all the sweeter as you warm his cock for him as he works.

"Be ready." Is all the warning you get before he digs the tip of his knife forward into your unprotected hip, the sharpness of the blade splitting the skin like it were little more than butter.

As aroused as you were, it still hurt like fuck, and a stuttered cry is buried into his shoulder as you push your head up - the pain flaring with a wicked intensity before dissolving just as quickly into a dull ache. In the same instance, a tickle of dripping liquid rolls down your skin and you lie back on the floor as he discards the knife to the side with a noisy clatter.

Instantly his hand is pressing over the wound and the pain of the pressure adds to the adrenaline which is making your fingers tremble and your cunt clench, the latter making him grunt as he presses his groin as tightly against your sex as he can to fill you with every inch.

"S'only a superficial cut." Cooper groans, enjoying the determined way in your cunt was milking him with every inviting spasm. "For a scar we'll need to keep poking at you 'til the tissue is so damaged, you'll need to skin it off to get rid of me."

Pulling his blood-tinged fingers to your face, you nip at the pads of his fingers - the leathery skin rough against your lips - as you wrap your free arm around his back. Using him as leverage, you begin to roll your hips once more as you chase the release your body is now desperate for, every inch of your skin feeling sensitive and raw.

"That's the best- ah, the best fucking news I've heard all day."

Unleashing a low chuckle at the enthusiam, Cooper meets your determination with some of his own as he resumes his merciless fucking - all the while, his hand refusing to let up its pressure on the crimson 'C' which lay, freshly carved into your willing skin.

#amazon fallout #fallout #cooper howard #the ghoul #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #the ghoul x you #fallout smut #ghoul smut #cooper howard smut #fallout tv smut #fallout prime #walton goggins

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 11 months

Note

BORIS JOHNSON RESIGNS AS MP. Thoughts? The people howl for a new update to the Big Dog the Clown saga.

Yes this was not on my personal bingo card; my most recent Big Dog event was that a friend of mine works for air traffic control and recently had to delay BoJo's holiday flight by four hours, and on being told that this particular plane had to be prioritised for a runway slot because it contained an Important Clown promptly pushed it to the bottom of the priority list. Lol. And then all this! What larks.

Okay not a lot of detail yet still but LET'S TAKE A LOOK AT THE EVENTS OF 9TH JUNE, 2023 and you know what? It's been a while. Let's do it properly.

7.15am

Another day dawns in the reign of evil Grand Vizier-turned-PM Rishi Sunak. He's a very boring flavour of evil, tbh. Say what you will about Johnson, but at least there was spectacle and showmanship to his clownshow. Something for the children to boo and hiss. An animate ham in a villain's wig, something to really enjoy as you sit back, relax, and savour a tall, cool glass of schadenfreude.

By contrast Rishi just gets sycophants - who are no less ridiculous, but far more grey and boring - who pretend he's a tech bro because "he understands AI" and they think that will make him a visionary and a man of the future and maybe some sort of Elon Musk figure, because that's obviously a smashing template to be copied in a leader of a country.

This briefing was presumably drafted using ChatGPT.

Anyway, this is what we thought the day would be: another dreary overcast washout, livened up by Downing Street's latest attempt at making Sunak seem like a good idea to stave off the hulking spectre of Labour's inevitable GE win next year. How trite. How tedious. How mediocre.

What a shame it would be if... something were to liven it up.

8.39 am

Fun fact!

When a PM's term ends, as their last act in office, they get to present an Honours List. This means they write a list of all the people they reckon have been Jolly Good Sorts who have done Good Clowning and Supported The Community, and nominate those people for honours. Honours here can be anything from an MBE/OBE etc, to a Damehood/Knighthood, all the way up to entering the Peerage i.e. becoming a Lord. Traditionally, people have been fairly reasonable with these lists. Apart from anything else, the outgoing PM can only write the list - the new Prime Minister has to sign off on it, and it's usually the case, of course, that PMs are deposed by the opposition party.

Why am I mentioning this? Well: Boris, you see, has now presented his list to Sunak to validate. You may be unsurprised to learn that it contains quite a lot of clowns.

Another fun fact!

If a sitting MP is given a Peerage, they cannot continue to be an MP. MPs are elected. Lords are not. So an MP offered a lordship right now would have to stand down if they accepted, triggering a by-election in their seat that... well. That anyone could win, couldn't they? Ordinarily. Except Labour's shadow is growing, isn't it? I don't suppose Sunak would be all that happy about losing, for example, any Tory MPs nominated for a peerage right now.

What fun facts.

At 8.39am, Politics UK reveals an as-yet-unverified report that Nadine Dorries and Alok Sharma have been removed from Boris Johnson's honours list, and will go back to vetting.

(They also reveal that Big Dog's dad has been removed from the list, because nominating your dad for a Peerage is "inappropriate". Sorry, Bigger Dog. Apparently even corrupt ghoul Rishi Sunak has a limit to what open corruption he will allow, which is news to us all, most of all Rishi.)

10.41am

Nadine Dorries decides she will play to her strengths, and appear on TV to do some Public Speaking, which always goes well for her of course.

Nothing, let's remember, has been confirmed yet at all. But she's here to put people's minds at ease! No power-hungry status-chasing pink maniac, she! She is very clear in her aims.

“The last thing I would want to do would be to cause a by-election in my constituency.”

Quite right, Nadine. That would be disastrous.

11.20am

Oh, it’s Tory think tank NRG’s conference in Doncaster today. Gideon George Osborne, pig-stupid former Grand Vizier and idiot fail-heir to David "pig-fucker" Cameron, gives a speech. Let's see some quotes!

On the Tories’ choices of chancellors since he personally fell on his sword over Brexit left the role:

“You can see when the partnership doesn’t work. The government's paralysed and the politics is terrible.”

Fair, but also you are a government, George.

On Tories who attack the civil service:

“We’re in charge of our country’s destiny. We should stop blaming others if we don’t get things right."

... right. But you just... Uh.

On Tory culture warriors:

“It’s really important that the Conservative Party is excited about the country we aspire to lead… and doesn’t get in to ‘we’re against all these groups of people’. We’re the inclusive people.”

Well, points for clearing that absurdly low bar, I guess. Christ, I cannot BELIEVE Suella Braverman is making George fucking Osborne look good-by-comparison.

1pm

Ooh. Nadine's attempts to put minds at ease have inexplicably not worked, can't think why not. She's such a reassuring and charismatic speaker normally.

But the rumour is now FLYING about that Nadine has indeed been dropped from the honours list, and specifically because Sunak wants to avoid a by-election that will lose him more seats at a time when he is desperate for even a mat on the floor as long as it's blue.

Sorry, Nads. Still; this morning you were very clear that the constituency comes first, so I suppose that's okay. The priority now is that she MUST stay in position, so the Tories can keep their numbers steady. It is VITAL she remains an MP. Let's remember her exact words!

“The last thing I would want to do would be to cause a by-election in my constituency.”

3.45pm

Nadine Dorries tweets her resignation.

The last thing she does as an MP is indeed to cause a by-election in her constituency.

3.50pm

Except this is Nadine Dorries we're talking about. She's found some flashy balls to juggle, look, and a boy to pour custard down her trousers.

Not five minutes after dropping the bombshell, she deletes the last tweet announcing her resignation, and tweets a new one.

The new tweet says, “it is now time for another to take the reins” as the MP for Mid-Bedfordshire.

The original tweet said, “it is now time for someone younger to take the reins.”

On Talk TV, Dorries says that "something significant did happen to change my mind", but doesn’t elaborate.

3.56pm

The whispers are whispering. The rumours are rumouring. The knives are sharpening.

Nadine's now-former seat is Mid-Bedfordshire, and has been Tory since 1929; a safe seat, which certainly explains how Nadine fucking Dorries managed to hold it for as long as she did.

An MP on the right of the Tory party says that if the Tories lose the Mid Bedfordshire by-election, it’ll open questions about Rishi Sunak's leadership CLOWNFALL 3: REVENGE OF BIG DOG LET'S GOOOOOO

3.57pm

Nadine Dorries is removed from the WhatsApp group.

I would love to know who leaked that image. I really should not have that image. Ah well. Now you do too.

4.12pm

Good tweet alert!

5.08pm

Phew! What a day. Let's see how Rishi's getting on.

He approves the rest of BoJo's honours list. Shall we take a look at our newly-honoured citizens? Shall we see what familiar names crop up?

Honours for staff at centre of Partygate Jack Doyle, Rosie Bate-Williams and Shelly Williams-Walker (and a lot of other terrible and disgraced people who were loyal to Johnson, and some of Carrie Antoinette’s friends).

Damehoods for Andrea Jenkyns and Priti Patel.

Knighthoods for Jacob Rees-Mogg, Conor Burns, and Michael Fabricant.

An OBE for Kelly Jo Dodge, Parliamentary hairdresser.

Also honours for Ben Houchen, currently at the heart of a media storm about dodgy property deals. His huge regeneration project in Teesside is subject to a government investigation regarding the governance, finance and value for money.

(Interesting point – Tory MPs Allister Jack and Nigel Adams were offered peerages, but decided to wait, since accepting now would trigger by-elections.

Why were they offered at all, do you think?)

So … this means Michael Fabricant is now Sir Michael Fabricant. Like, actually. Genuinely.

Nice one, Rishi. Thank goodness you understand AIs.

5.44pm

The Guardian’s Pippa Crerar - journalist who brought down Big Dog one Partygate reveal at a time - tweets her guide to he honours list:

Martin Reynolds, former PPS, invited 200 officials to drinks in Downing St garden. He told officials to "bring your own booze", later adding: "We seem to have got away with it".

Shelley Williams-Walker, getting a Damehood, was No 10 head of opps & now runs his office. At No 10 party the night before Prince Philip's funeral she was dubbed "DJ SWW" for her banger playlist.

Jack Doyle & Rosie Bate-Williams, who get OBEs, were press spox who repeatedly denied the parties happened

Dan Rosenfield, who gets a peerage, quit in mass exodus of senior No 10 staff as anger over Partygate grew. Former chief of staff faced reports he was among senior Downing Street officials who attended a Christmas quiz when restrictions were in place.

Shaun Bailey, who ran unsuccessfully for London mayor, gets a peerage, and Ben Mallett, a close friend of Carrie Antoinette's who ran Zac Goldsmith’s disastrous mayoral campaign, gets an OBE. Both are in this picture of a lockdown-flouting party at CCHQ:

What a sea of punchable faces.

7.58pm

But we've been so focused on Nadine! She's fucked up her juggling, look, but she's sliding around on the rollerskates, ever so distracting. But here's the thing, Tumblrs, here's the thing:

Among all of this, what's the Chief Clown doing?

The Privilege Committee reveals in their draft report that Boris Johnson misled Parliament, and recommends a sanction of more than 10 days.

Does that sound too little? Are you wishing it were smething more meaningful? Let me help put it in context.

This sanction would be enough to trigger a by-election in Johnson’s seat.

8.02pm

Boris Johnson

QUITS

as an MP

The committee said Johson had “impugned the integrity” of the House of Commons. Fascinating! I didn't know its honour had ever been pugned.

He accuses the inquiry of trying to “drive me out”!!!!

"It is very sad to be leaving parliament - at least for now - but above all I am bewildered and appalled that I can be forced out, anti-democratically, by a committee chaired and managed, by Harriet Harman, with such egregious bias".

Worth noting that the committee has a Conservative majority, mind. But you mustn't let things like facts get in the way of your feelings, BlowJo. You never have as a politician. Nor as a journalist, come to that.

(Also SIDE NOTE – “at least for now”?? What are you planning, Big Dog?? I suppose Nadine is leaving an empty seat...)

8.41pm

Christopher Hope of the Daily Telegraph reports he’s heard rumours of a THIRD Tory MP potentially resigning – and another Johnson loyalist at that. Lol. Trololol. Lmao, even. Perhaps rofl.

11.43pm

And finally, the day is wrapped up with the Guardian revealing their front cover for the following day:

Big Dog is OUT, hot trans bloke is IN.

Not a bad finish.

#asks #long post #politik #the adventures of big dog the clown

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plutoswritingplanet · 8 days

Text

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

a/n: as promised, here's the full chapter. as a person who's only played skyrim and oblivion, writing for fallout is like throwing a hot dog into an empty corridor (i will not elaborate)

Warnings: Suggestive Themes, Attempted Kidnapping, Medical Malpractice, Cooper is a mean old man with a boner. Takes place before the events of the TV series.

Summary: The Ghoul takes up a bounty that has been gathering dust for quite some time. You, bored out of your mind, decide getting kidnapped might be the perfect way to entertain yourself. Both of you bite off more than you can chew. Cross-Posted on AO3

PT. 2

Copper knows this job will be different, before he even decides to take it up.

Scribbled with flaky charcoal, your face looks at him from the notice board every time he delivers a bounty. For months now, a humble title of "The Healer" hangs without change, between criminals, raiders, and people who were in the wrong place, at the wrong time.

Cooper hasn't considered going for you, it was never his first choice. The bounty on your head was moderately low, in comparison to your notice board neighbors. He had other priorities, bigger than a smeared over pretty face, for half his usual reward.

Until one day, as he stomped his way through the dusty floor, his eyes caught onto your wanted poster yet again.

Well, to be frank, his eyes strayed towards your portrait almost every time he crossed the threshold, but he would never admit it to anyone, let alone himself. Like a constant companion, overlooking all his accomplishments since he decided to stick around the place, your empty gaze followed every transaction, every head delivered onto the table. Some semblance of a routine, he supposed, looking over the board.

There, under the regular information, freshly painted numbers stared back at him. A new bounty, significantly bigger than any reward on the board. The red paint was still dripping down the yellowed paper, the addition must've been made quite recently.

A hefty price. One, that would supply him with enough chems to last for half a year at least. Tempting. Especially now, that he's down to only a couple of vials, his coughing fits becoming longer and closer between. So tempting, in fact, that he tears your wanted poster from the board, finally getting a closer look, a deliberate one.

Booker gives him a raised eyebrow, all the commentary needed, encapsulated in this simple gesture, and Cooper shoots him a nasty look. There aren't many requirements regarding the job, except one, annoying detail.

You have to be alive and in good condition.

Now, alive Cooper could do. Alive is easy. Good condition, however, opened a whole shitbag of problems, which he would be a fool to overlook. Still, the prospect of such money couldn't be ignored. And, he'd be damned to admit it, but he was curious. Who were you? Why haven't you been caught for such a long time? What caused this sudden raise in bounty?

- Did you piss someone off that bad, little lady? - he asks the yellowed paper, and gets no answer, as expected.

***

The bar is filled with patrons, all tripping over themselves to loose as many caps on cheap alcohol and chems from under the table. It's not as rowdy, as one would expect. This settlement must be one of the few more civilized ones, for the Wasteland's standards at least. Farmers, mechanics, shopkeepers, they all clam together, smelling of smoke, sweat, and alcohol.

You're here too, hunched over your drink with a sour expression. Your shoulders are slumped, covered by a piece of cloth, that used to be a shawl, but currently looks more like a rag used to wipe down countertops. Despite that, Cooper sees in the way your body is poised, taunt and graceful, that you're neither a naive Vault Dweller, nor a scruffy raider. A skinny scarf is tied around your neck in a fashion, that reminds Cooper of the old westerns he used to star in.

The sudden influx of memories is neither wanted, nor useful, and he clicks his teeth in annoyance at his own betraying mind.

The Healer, he thinks to himself, making his way through the crowds, until he reaches the side of the bar, one seat from you. Not a glance is spared in his direction. The townsfolk must be used to seeing Ghouls run around the place. Still, when he orders a glass of moonshine, out of the corner of his eye, he can see you peaking at him with curiosity. There's a intelligent glint in your eye, and Cooper feels a shiver of curiosity climbing up his back. He scolds himself for being too old imediately after.

By all that's holy, you look tired. And not the kind of tired, that sticks to a person living in the Wastelands, no. It's the exhaustion of a shitty day, dragging your eyelids down to flutter against creeping up sleep. The alcohol can't be helping your state, however, it will most definitely help Cooper. He almost feels sorry for you, but if your dumb enough to leave yourself in the open like that, while being hunted, there's nothing more he can do but take advantage.

Cooper turns his face ever so slightly towards you, looking over your expression for any signs of recognition. He sees none, more than that, there is no emotion at all, not even a blink at his fucked up face. Raising his hand, he touches the rim of his hat in a wordless greeting.

That finally wrenches some resemblance of a reaction out of you, and with a blink, you tip your glass towards him, before downing its contents. Your cheeks are flushed, lips wet with remnants of moonshine and there's a lock of hair falling out of place, and damn it, Cooper suddenly feels so old.

Ordering drinks while in your current state wasn't the most intelligent thing you could've done. The harsh taste of alcohol burned your throat in a way that was less than pleasant, and for a moment you consider turning to some good old chems for help with... Well everything really.

It started with Old Lady Sal.

You've replaced her hip a while back with some scrap metal and a fuckload of reused body parts. Now, every other day she demands you check it out, make sure it's in working order. Which it always is. This isn't your first replaced hip, you know what you're doing.

Then, you had to sit through the insanely uncomfortable marriage offer from Old Lady Sal's grandson, who is not only dumb as a bag of rocks, but also fourteen.

And to top it all off, suddenly everyone needs you to solve their particular pains of the day. There must be an epidemic of aching heads sweeping through the town, because as soon, as you flee from Old Lady Sal's home, you're being hounded by everyone and their mother, looking to you for help. You were in town for two hours, and your herbs reserve went down to one fucking leaf.

The Ghoul keeps looking at you from under his hat, and at this point it's gotten from uncomfortable, to straight up creepy. You were not about to pretend this stranger's interest in your particular person didn't unnerve you. Although, thanks to your mother's efforts, and later your own, the town practically worshipped the ground you walked on, the same could not be said about the rest of the Wasteland.

You had enemies. You had people, who would love to get their hands on you. You were also deeply aware of the bounty placed on your person. Last you checked, it was quite small, but Ghouls don't have it easy out there, and if there's anyone looking like a bounty hunter in this fine establishment, it's the shady guy giving you a shameless once-over.

So, you place a couple of caps on the counter, and gather yourself best you can.

Perhaps drinking on an empty stomach was not the best idea, because as soon as you slide off the barstool, your head does a flip. Your balance completely off, you trip over your own feet, already accepting the floor, as your soon-to-be companion.

That's when something strangely warm wraps itself around your waist, hoisting you up against the counter. The Ghoul smells just about as pleasant as one would expect, but moonshine is a powerful sedative, and instinctually, you lean into the warm embrace. Eyelids flutter, as you look up into the sunken eyes of your savior, and you can see his throat move, as he swallows thickly.

- Careful now, sweetheart - the voice is low and reminds you of wind whistling through leaves - Gotta keep you in good condition.

Now, if you were completely sober, or at least less drunk, those words would fire an orchestra of alarm bells in your head. Instead, you smile, teeth on full display, as you reach up, to undo a tattered scarf from around your neck.

- Mmm - you sigh, throwing the piece of cloth across the Ghoul's shoulders - My hero.

Then, you grab onto his arm, still holding a tight grip around your waist, and lift it up by the sleeve of his coat. Despite your drunken disposition, you duck under the limb gracefully, and shoot the Ghoul a nasty, fully aware smirk. Realization flickers across his face, but before he can move to catch you, a series of body-wrecking coughs shakes his entire frame.

You hesitate just for a second. The instinct to help is ingrained into your very being, passed down like a mantle from your angel of a mother. But then, self-preservation kicks in, and as the strager reaches into the pocket of his coat, to find his inhaler, you're already out the door, throwing yourself into a mad dash towards your cabin.

You were drunk, not stupid.

***

The sun has barely had time to rise, when you're rudely awoken by the sound of a fist, pounding desperately on your front door. Hard enough to make the hinges squeak and shake.

It tears you from your already light sleep, and you scramble to your feet, hastily pulling a shirt over your head, as you make your way towards the entrance. Hand on your pistol, you look out through the small space between two planks, which make up your door.

It's not hard to understand what is happening. You remember one of the men standing outside your door from the nearby town. Benny or something like that, you were never good at remembering names. Hanging on his arm was another, barely breathing man, who was currently bleeding out right onto your porch. Pete. This one you recognize as a farmer and a hunter. You've treated multiple bites and scratches on him. So did your mother.

Cursing under your breath, you undid all the makeshift locks with record speed, throwing the door open.

- I'm sorry to bother your so early in the morning Healer - you wince at the title, already making a beeline for the table in your kitchen - Pete and I were just...

Both men follow you closely behind, Pete's boots making a disgusting, sloshing noise.

- Put him here, face up - you command, throwing a couple of papers to the floor.

- ...Coming back from a night hunt, and this fucking Ghoul was asking around town about you...

- Cut his shirt - another command, thrown over your shoulder, as you begin to rummage through a cabinet filled with chemicals and various herbs, barely registering the words.

- ...And when we started asking questions back at him, he just shot Peter, right then and there...

You pluck a couple of twisted, dried herbs into your trusty, stone mortar, spitting into it, to gather some moisture. Throwing a semi-clean rag at the man, your voice cuts through his rambling.

- Put pressure on it.

There is no exit wound, and you almost sigh with annoyance at the prospect of fishing out a bullet. It had to be done, however, putting your sleep depriation and a building headache aside, you scoop out some of the herbal paste with your fingers, before pushing past the man.

- Hold his legs down - you mutter, taking a blink-and-you-miss-it moment to check Pete's temperature.

- ...Thankfully, he didn't kill Pete on the spot, so I brought him here straight away.

Pete flinches on the table, as you apply the paste to the wound. That's about as big of a reaction he's capable of, given the amount of blood he just spilled onto your porch. Another thing to clean up, after you take care of the table. What a way to start a fucking day. You can see his eyes follow your movements, barely conscious, but still alive. Sweat beads and gathers at his brow, and you reach out with a clean rag, to dab it off his skin.

Then, as if coming out of a stupor, your eyebrows scrunch together. The story of this faithful encounter finally registering in your brain.

- A man was asking about me? - you ask, despite already knowing the answer.

- Well, kinda. A Ghoul.

You knew which Ghoul, it was not difficult to piece together.

- And he didn't kill Pete, just injured him - you can feel another headache brewing just behind your eyes, as the sheer stupidity of the man in front of you finally comes to the surface.

They led him to you.

Three, steady knocks to your door, smug and confident, interrupt the conversation, and deep down you can see the future of every person present in this cabin. As if you've developed some magical powers.

Stilling your suddenly trembing hands, you settle the mortar back on the table. Thenyou instruct the man to keep pressure once more. Covering yourself with a robe you got as payment for stitching up a sliced finger, you make your way to the door. Fabric flows around your feet, shuffling like the wings of a moth.

Your eyes flicker to the side, where, placed against a wall, stands a small end table. Under it, you've hidden a rather large kitchen knife, and for a second you debate, whether going for it now would be the best course of action. Call it dumb optimism, but deep down, you pray this is some big misunderstanding, and you'll be allowed to go back to your patient, preferably sooner than later.

There's no need to bother with a gun, no time too. Pete is bleeding out faster than a stuck pig, and you were not one to leave your customers unsatisfied. Or, in this particular line of work, dead.

The door opens with a slam. There's a small indent in the wooden wall, where the door handle has hit the surface. The cabin is slowly entering the state of ruin, although, some places are more taken care of than others. Still, it has a roof, a semi intact entrance and even a window with actual glass in it. Quite the luxury in the Wastelands.

Cooper didn't know what to expect, not really. Seeing you for the first time gave him a mixture of varying feelings, as well as a rather uncomfortable throbbing in the nether regions. Who could blame him, really? Your wanted poster gave you no favors, and although he was able to recognize you almost immediately, he still felt slightly short of breath.

He scolds himself for getting distracted by his thoughts, and as your eyes lock down on him, he lifts the barrel of his gun, touching the rim of his hat. Your eyes shift like little sparkling gems onto the weapon, before your jaw locks.

- Salutations Ma'am - his voice is rough from lack of use, the southern twang even more prominent, than usual. - I believe our introduction was cut short.

Yellowed teeth flash in a mirthless smirk, and then his expression tightens.

Cooper is used to people reacting, let's say, negatively towards him. Fear is the most common, and he can't blame the masses, he really can't. Disgust, as well, happens quite often. But as he looks over your feverish gaze, he can't really see either one of the emotions.

No, what you give him is an annoyed roll of your eyes, and he's surprised to say, it bothers him more than he'd be comfortable admitting. He's a goddamned bounty hunter, a ruthless one at that, and a fucking Ghoul. Fuck you mean, you're annoyed by his presence?

- Look - you're already turning away from him, shooting a look towards your kitchen, where he can see a leg twitch in a spasm on top of your table - I ain't got time for whatever this is - your hands wave around in Cooper's general direction. - You'll have to wait your turn.

- Ah, well, I'm not the patient kind.

A squeak of surprise leaves you, as the Ghoul pushes past your body, entering your house gun first, murder clear in his deep set eyes. His steps take him through your living room, dangerously close to your kitchen. You know exactly, what's going to happen, and your arms shoot out on instinct. His body is unnaturally warm, even through layers of clothing, as you wrap yourself around his waist, tugging him back with all your might.

He looks down on you, more bothered by the sudden contact, than the fact you're trying to stop him. It gives you a small leverage, and you push him back a couple of steps, settling yourself between the entrance to the kitchen, and the bounty hunter, raising your hands and getting ready to fight.

- I don't have time for this kinda bullshit. Git. - Cooper snarls at you, his gun-free hand coming up to grab at your hair.

Before you have time to react, five fingers twist hard into your roots, and you stifle a scream, as the Ghoul pushes you off of him. On instinct, your hands come up to tug against his wrist, nails digging into the leathery skin. He lets you go with a hiss, and you use that second, to throw yourself towards the end-table.

Your fingers find the handle with a practiced ease. Then, your body twists like a radioactive viper, and all Cooper sees is a flash of metal. The blade is rusty and chipped, but it could still do some damage. Especially now, that it's pressed against Cooper's jugular, the dull, cold presence halting all his movements. Your eyebrows raise in small recognition at the thin fabric tied around his neck. The scarf. Your mouth goes dry.

- Everything okay back there? - Benny asks from the kitchen, you can hear his approaching footsteps.

- All's well, kee pressure on the wound - your voice is tight with nerves, but the man obeys.

Cooper watches your face carefully, his gun tucked neatly into the meat of your stomach, ready to fire, should the situation escalate. You can feel it, pressed right into the hollow space under your spleen, a good place to be shot, if you could even say that. You're dealing with a professional, apparently.

- We seem to have a bit of a conundrum on our hands, little lady - Cooper drawls, voice bordering on a whisper, his eyes follow the way your tongue darts out to lick your chapped lips.

- I have a patient, he needs help - you explain in an even tone, breathing shallow - After that, I'll deal with you.

Despite being at a loosing position, you refuse to back down, your eyes glued to the Ghoul in front of you. You're bracing yourself for the imminent pain, should he decide shooting you would be easier, but it never comes. Instead, the barrel of the gun presses further into your flesh, before lightly retracting. The cold metal is dragged up, across the expanse of your stomach. You bite the inside of your cheek, and surpress a shiver, when it travels between the swell of your breast, and settles into the dip of your collarbones.

You swallow thickly, Cooper's eyes catching the movements of your trachea like a hungry vulture. The tip of the gun touches the underside of your chin, pushing your head to one side, then the other, as if the bounty hunter is taking inventory in a butcher's shop. Once he's had his fill, he lifts the gun completely, raising his hands as a peace offering.

- Git - you whisper back at him, and a flash of something rushes through his mangled expression.

You take a step back, chest rising in falling rapidly, blade still in front of you, just in case. Then another step, and the bounty hunter dusts off his coat, before sitting down on a stool in your cluttered living room. You don't like the way he looks at you, eyes shining from under his hat, as he occupies your space like it belongs to him. Long legs apread in front of him, and you try very hard not to sneak a peak between them. Finally, you cross the entrance to the kitchen, and the knife is tucked under the leather belt of your pants.

A sigh, a roll of shoulders, and you're off.

Cooper watches with curiosity, as you immediately start to work on the poor bastard stuck on your table. Your back is taunt, hands bloodied but steady, as you lean down to take the metal bullet out of the wound. The herbal paste you've provided earlier has dried up, and is currently working wonders for the bleeding, while you reach inside with not-so-sterile pliers.

- Hold him down - he hears you say, as the legs on the table start to twitch again.

Finally, a metallic sound of the bullet hitting a dish is heard, and you stand up, making your way towards the cabinet filled with chems. There is a grace to your movements Cooper wasn't expecting. Reminds him of dancers, ballet ones.

Back in the day, his ex-wife would drag him to all those ballet shows, ones that made him feel stupid and uncultured. He swallows around the memory, willing it to die down, as you shoot him a cautious look over your shoulders.

He wiggles his gun at you lightly, a reminder, that all this is happening because of his good humor. You scoff.

Pete starts screaming as soon, as you begin to dress the wound properly. Chemical smell fills the air, and although Cooper lacks the nose to feel it, his eyes water all the same. You seem to be unbothered, years of doing this exact job must've hardened your senses. Finally, it's done. There's nothing more you can do for the man, and you wipe your hand on your forehead, leaving a large smear of red.

- He'll be fine - you mutter towards the other man in the kitchen - He needs rest, and a loads of it too.

A couple of small bottles and dried herbs land onto a checkered cloth, and you tie it closed, like a small care package.

- Dress his wounds twice a day - you press the package into the other man's hands while he helps his partner off the table - Good luck.

Cooper glares at the men, as they stagger out the front door. They don't seem to pay him any mind. Well, the shot one definitely doesn't, he can barely walk on his own. His friend is too preoccupied with keeping him on his arm, to even acknowledge that this whole situation was orchestrated by Cooper himself. Or perhaps, he's to stupid to connect the dots. It's hard to tell these days.

The door closes with a click, and Cooper stands up from his stool, sauntering over to the kitchen.

You're currently trying to wash blood off of your hands, which are stained crimson almost up to your elbows. It goes about as well as expected, and as you dry your arms with a rag, there's still a pinkish stain to your skin.

The table is a mess, blood and herbs seeping into the wooden planks which make up the surface. Cooper leans against the doorframe, as he watches you splash some chemicals onto the wood. It bubbles up in a disgusting mixture of red, green and yellow. You let it sizzle for a moment, before taking that same bowl of water you've been using to clean up, and dumping it all onto the table. The mixture flows down to the floor, the residing surface looking much cleaner.

- Now, as much as I'd love to sit around and play house with you, honey - Cooper starts, and has to clear his throat, when you look up at him wordlessly, blood on your face and fire in your eyes - I have a bounty to collect.

Sighing, you push your hair back from your forehead, exhaustion, which is synonymous with living in the Wastelands seeping off of you like a tidal wave.

- Do you have a name? - you ask, reaching for a leather bag sitting on one of the chairs.

- I do - he says, and you roll your eyes at the deliberate lack of information his answer has given you.

You mutter something that sounds scarily close to "asshole", and begin to chuck a couple of vials into the bag, then some herbs, then a water canteen. It's like you're ready to move out at any time, and a sneaking suspicion arises in Cooper's mind. This isn't the first time you're in this situation, if your calm demeanor is anything to go by. Suspicious, highly so, and as you turn around to face him, Cooper raises his hand ever so slightly.

Your eyes fall onto the bundle of rope in his grip, eyebrow raising in annoyance.

- You serious?

- As a funeral, sweetheart - he sways the bundle lighty, his other hand pointing the gun at your abdoment - Now, are you going to be good, and come over here? Or should I come over there and make it unpleasant for us both?

- You're already making it unpleasant - you mutter, but cross the kitchen towards him, raising your hands, palms up.

- Wait.

Confusion hits you, when the Ghoul reaches into his pocket, producing a small piece of torn cloth. Your entire body goes still, as he grabs onto your chin, cold metal of his gun digging into your cheek, the barrel settling into the juncture between your neck and your shoulder. Then, despite your best efforts at freeing yourself from his grip, he brings the cloth to his lips, wetting the fabric with his tongue.

The bloody smear on your forehead is wiped down rather roughly, and you twist in place like an impatient toddler, when Cooper leans his head back, to look at his handywork. You shiver with disgust, at the feeling of his drying saliva on your skin, and as soon, as he lets you go, you begin to rub at your forehead with the sleeve of your robe.

- Good condition - he rasps, and if looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.

He gives you a nasty smirk, settling his gun down for just a moment, and grabbing your wrists together, so he can tie them up. Which is all the time you need to make a decision, and kick out your knee, nailing him right in the crotch. He doubles over, cursing loudly, hands shooting out to grab you, but all he catches is your tattered robe, which you slide out of easily.

Fater than he would've anticipated, you grab at your bag, and bolt to the back of the kitchen, where he watches you jump over the table and all but slide out of the house through an open window. It's like a choreographed dance, the way you move out of his grasp. When he reaches the window himself, there's no sight of you, other than the rustling of tree branches somewhere in the woods behind your cabin.

- Fucking women. - Cooper whistles.

He can't deny the shiver of excitement running down his back, as he secures the hat over his eyes. If that's how you want to play, he would oblidge. It's been far too long since he could actually enjoy a more challenging bounty. Cooper slowly walks out of your cabin, looking over all the little trinkets you've gathered inside. Then, almost lazily, he lifts the robe you've left him to his nose. He feels nothing, of course, but he has quite a vivid imagination. Vivid enough to supply him with a memory of a scent from his past life. Lavender, he'd bet you smell like lavender.

Your tracks are deep and visible across the ground, and so, the hunt begins.

#my writing #cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #cooper howard x you #fallout smut #fallout x reader #fallout tv series #cooper howard smut #the ghoul smut #i walt on his goggins till we fallout

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milky-aeons · 2 months

Text

𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐆

౨ৎ . . . in which a man with no reason to live finds an unlikely one through the tribulations of being a father.

warnings: emotional dysregulation, slight angst, unplanned pregnancy, alcohol consumption, poor parenting (in the beginning), conflict, suicidal ideation, depression, depictions of birth, female reader, healing, w.c 2.4k

♪ . . . ˗ˏˋ ꒰ dancing on my own — vitamin string quartet ꒱ ˎˊ-

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who wasn't ready to be a mother. Not now, perhaps not ever — was a rule you had laid in stone for yourself as a free-spirit intent on enjoying life to its fullest. It was why the world had tuned out into white noise when Yosano Akiko held the small test in her hand and spoke those terrifying words. With a shutter of sympathy in her eyes, coming to place a hand on your shoulder to give it a firm, comforting squeeze. She knew just as well how much you didn't want this to be true. Her touch felt condemning. You felt like you were going to vomit, just like you had been for the last four mornings in a row. Because how were you going to tell him?

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who didn't blink, didn't draw breath, didn't do anything when you let the words stumble from your mouth in one panicked rush. It was a bright afternoon deep into summer and the Agency's café was quiet — private enough for the two of you to have this conversation. You and Dazai Osamu — you were not an item, had been content to have casual shared nights together when either of you wanted to blow off a little steam. But that night, you had said to him, do you remember that night? When we were both drunk and stupid, so stupid?

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who, in that moment, decided not to grace you with any words. Instead, he did something far more uncharacteristic of him; he stayed quiet. He gave one shallow nod of his head and placed a hand softly onto the table so he could stand up. To steady himself, to ground himself back down when you had turned his world completely overhead, you did not know. And Dazai, who left you there, excusing himself in order to get some fresh air. The raking bastard that he was. Not once did he turn back to look you directly in the eye. Not even when you stood up, shouted his name, screamed at him, until tears spilled over your cheeks and your throat burned with the pain.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who saw life through a lens of grey in the couple of days following. Sometimes, you would feel so heavy that you did not wish to rise out of bed. The word swam around in your head like the song of a haunting ghoul — a mom, a mom, I am going to be a mom. Yosano would drop by your Agency apartment after work to see how you were doing, feeling your forehead, bringing you remedies to help with the nausea that roiled in your stomach. Every time, you would resist the temptation to ask where he was. And yet every time, Yosano would still tell you;

"He didn't come to work today, either."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who slowly came to grips with the fact that this was how it was going to be. The initial shock of it all was as relentless as it was condemning, but it was not infinite. The sun rose the next day, and the next, the world kept moving and you decided that you would have to, as well. That there was a little life growing inside your warm belly that needed a mother, no matter how unprepared you were for that fact. And, if you could do something about it, needed their father. You were not letting him just walk away from you, from the both of you, that easily.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who was exactly where you thought he would be when you set out that evening to find him. Of course, if he wanted to, Dazai Osamu had both the cleverness and the connections to absolutely disappear from the streets of Yokohama without a trace. If he wanted to, he could have abandoned you and this baby completely. But he didn't. Instead, he was here, laying sprawled long and lazy on his messy, unmade futon in his messy, unclean house, as if waiting to be found. When he heard you pass over the threshold of the door he didn't lock, he gave you a long, languid smile.

"My bewitching Beeella~! At looong last, she has come to tempt me!" He slurred his speech, bringing your attention to the heavy scent in the air and the dozen or so bottles strewn about haphazardly. His hair was matted and unwashed. He looked just like you, curled in your bed, refusing to move for days. But unlike you, he was completely and utterly intoxicated. "You look awful." You said in a low voice. Hurt at how he abandoned you in the coffee shop was still a fresh, gaping wound. As if his head was too heavy, Dazai let it flop back down onto the cushions. He waved his hands about. "And you... look just as beautiful... as always. But—It is a trap...! A ruuuuse! A beautiful Bellaaa, sent from my torment... to tie me to this mortal coil!"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who let him ramble his litany of incoherencies. If only for a few merciful seconds. When you felt like you had had enough, or perhaps fearful with how far he'd take it, you kicked one of the empty glass bottles. It skirted across his floorboards and hit a neighbouring wall, exploding into countless little shards. He looked up then, attracted to the noise, trying to focus on you with his glazed whiskey-coloured eyes. In that moment, you stood your tallest, and just like the bottle you mustered up every last shred of yourself until you built it all back together.

"You." You pointed at him, feeling your voice come on thick, but strong. "You listen to me and listen to me well, I'm only going to say this once, and if you're too fucking drunk to remember it, then more is the pity. But I'm carrying your baby—our god damn baby. And if you're not going to step up and be the father they're going to need, then I'll be that for you. Just say the word, Dazai. Say the word and I'll leave. You'll never hear from me or this child ever again."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who said nothing in contest to that statement, but also said nothing to affirm it, either. His wide, unfocused eyes studied every feature on your face, trying to make sense of something you didn't know. And for a second, your heartrate kicked up. Because somewhere deep down inside, you wanted him to tell you to stay. You wanted him to sober up, to wear that charming, all-endearing smile and convince you that everything was going to be alright. But he didn't. And that was the moment you deflated with a sigh — laying out all the feelings you once had for him on the floor, ready to cast it to the wind. You had made it to his doorway when two strong, heavy arms came around you and all of his weight collapsed against your shoulders.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who buried his head into the crook of your neck, who's hair tickled your face and made your eyes sting with tears. He, who smelled of whiskey and liqueur, but in that moment, held you so tight, crushed you against his taller frame and croaked;

"Stay."

"Please... just, stay."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who seemed like he had undergone a transformation overnight. He always did have a strange knack for that — changing his persona so easily, crafting masks and façades. And maybe it was just that, at least in the beginning. But he had started to come back to work, again. You would enter the familiar doors early in the mornings to the tell-tale sounds of his teasing tone and Kunikida's threats. When you would walk in, he'd straighten up from whatever headlock the blond had trapped him into, and catch your eye.

"Good morning." You would whisper. "Good morning, beautiful Bella." He would murmur right back.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who became used to the weight in your tummy growing heavier each day. It was Atsushi, at first, who recognised the shift in your scent and the sound of a little heartbeat in your belly through his superior feline hearing. Soon after, everyone in the Agency were offering you gifts and well wishes. Dazai received a less warm ovation. Especially from Kunikida, who threatened to flush him into the drainage system if he even thought about being one of those shitty laid-back dads who let the mom do all the work.

"That's cruel, Kunikida-kun!" Dazai whined at him. "To think of the rigid, torturous lifestyle your children will have to endure!" He just barely dodged the office chair that was hurled at his head.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who, after a short while, began to let Dazai close to you again. And maybe it was foolish of you, to let that thing which always existed between you two take spark and kindle with new life. First, it was sitting together in the same booth in the coffee shop. Then, it was gentle, quiet touches — his hand brushing your back as he walked past, your fingers twining together underneath the desk where no one could see. He stole you away for long walks in the nearby park when you should have been working. To your protests, he'd pout, and say, but a pregnant lady needs to enjoy as much rest as she can~! And then, he'd kiss you. Underneath the great spurting fountain at the centre of the park. Long and sweet and promising.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who one time, when you were especially close to your due date and he was feeling especially silly, drew a large smiley face on your swollen belly. Or peppered a shower of kisses along the stretched skin, telling you she was taking too long, that he couldn't wait any longer and had too many kisses saved up for her, already. And on that day where you did go into labour, he held your hand, he placed those lips on your forehead and whispered gentle encouragements as you screamed through the pain.

"You are strong, my beautiful [Name]. Come on, can you give one more push? Just one more." "You're doing so great. You are so unbelievable, so resilient and brave. My beautiful Belladonna, that's it. You can do it."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who, along with the chorus of elated cries from the Armed Detective Agents, made a sound of disbelief when his baby girl came into the world. Slick and wet, red and crying, but beautiful. A copy of her mother's features but with a wild head of curly brown hair. An emotion Dazai had not felt in an extremely long time crept up the back of his throat. It made him laugh, it made his eyes smart with tears. And when he came to your side to see your baby be placed onto your bare chest, a single tear escaped from the side of his eye and got lost when he buried his head into your hair.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who never thought he would ever grow attached to someone. There was you, of course, but if he sat with the discomfort of viewing his life without you in it, it could be done. But trying to see his life without her — his little baby girl — his mind would simply draw a blank. It was unbearable, impossible. Before long, Dazai had insisted you move into his apartment so he could be closer to you. After, of course, you threatened him to scrub the entire place from head-to-toe and remove anything non-child friendly in a black plastic bag. And he did. He used those nimble, clever hands to build the baby a little wooden crib. He would rock her to sleep and place her down, only to watch her for minutes, hours, contemplating how in the world he was ever bestowed with such a blessing.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who sang lullabies to her. Who sang at every given chance he had. For he was such a lovely singer, his soft, velvety voice would be a common thing amongst the walls of your little apartment. Who would sit down with the toddler and teach her all the words he knew.

"Can you say 'Kunikida' my little star?" "Kuni—Kuni—Kooni—!" "Kun—ee—kee—dah!" On the 'dah', he'd pinch her nose. "Kun—eeeee—keeeee—dah!" "Wow~!" Dazai pinched her nose again and she giggled. "Darling, did you hear that? Our little star is a genius." "She takes after her father." You would say from around the bend of the kitchen. Praises and chuckles and the shrieks of a delighted baby would fill the air. Dazai would then drop his voice, thinking you wouldn't hear, and say, "Now, can you say, 'is a bore!'" "Dazai!"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who always took his little girl to work with him. Everyone in the Agency fell in love with her very quickly. Atsushi would transform his hands into that of giant tiger paws, pretending to growl, letting her pull at the little tufts even though it hurt him just a tad. Ranpo would ask the little baby mind-numbing riddles, then laugh, proclaiming how she barely had any braincells, but not to worry, because when she's old enough, he'd take her as his apprentice. Kunikida, who would let her handle his little ideal book, and then hold back tears when she ripped one of the pages out of it. The little girl would hold the page up high and from her little perch on the table, shout,

"Kuneeekeeda... is... a boooore!"

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who was still laughing when he met you on the terrace roof of the Agency that night. He went straight for his little girl and held her up in the air, proclaiming that he was so proud of her. You would settle down together, just the three of you, huddled on the concrete tiles and watching the sun set over the skyline of Yokohama.

: ̗̀➛ 𝐘𝐎𝐔, who would hold your daughter on your lap until her curly brown head of hair tilted into your shoulder and she snored softly. In that moment, you would crane your head onto Dazai's broad shoulder, and whisper;

"I'm glad I stayed."

: ̗̀➛ 𝐃𝐀𝐙𝐀𝐈, who would run his long fingers across his sleeping daughter's face softly, so softly, so as not to wake her. Then, he would reach up to you and cup the side of your cheek, captivating you, looking at you with an expression so warm and tender as he whispered right back;

"And I am forever grateful."

✎ . . . requested by the lovely @ringsofsaturnnnn!

WRITING REQUESTS

#bungou stray dogs #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #dazai osamu #dazai osamu x reader #dazai #dazai x reader #dazai bsd #bsd fanfiction #bsd fanfic #🎋 — writing requests #divider by benkeibear

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mind-empty-just-fictional-people · 3 months

Text

Comfort Crowd

main masterlist | supernatural masterlist

summary: dean just needs you next to him

pairing: (stanford era) dean winchester x female reader

rating: R for language

word count: 1.9k

warnings: hurt/sad dean, language, reader drives after drinking but she’s not drunk, that’s it i think

author’s note: i know this gif is of jason teague and not dean winchester but that’s literally samford era jackles so i think it fits perfectly <3

music: comfort crowd by conan gray — was listening to conan gray and bam! dean winchester fic idea! anyways…

When you saw who was calling your brows furrowed — Dean? You had talked to him earlier in the week, just a casual check-in to make sure you were both still alive. You and Dean had gotten into a fight about a month prior and you both decided to just take a break from each other. You had made it clear that you were not breaking up with him, you just needed a break.

Last time you talked he was working a case in Texas, something with ghouls and sororities. You had just finished up a werewolf hunt and he had voiced his jealousy. He hadn’t gotten to fight a werewolf in many, many moons (pun intended).

“Dean?” you answered the call, still holding your first beer of the night in your free hand. He didn’t say anything, there was only labored breathing on the other side and that worried you. “Dean? Honey, is everything okay?” He still said nothing. “Dean, what’s—”

“Where are you?” he asked. His voice was clearly on the verge of cracking. He’d been crying?

“Uh, Bakersfield California,” you told him. “Just finished another case, simple ghost hunt. What’s wrong, Dean?” He again went back to just breathing. “Dean, where are you?”

“I’m in Palo Alto,” he said. “You—Could you get up here, p-please? I need you, hun. I just—I need you here.”

“I’ll be right there Dean, four hours tops,” you told him. You stood up off your chair and paid your tab. “Talk to me, what’s wrong?”

“I can’t…fuck, I just wanna see you…please?”

“Of course, Dean, I’ll be there soon,” you reminded him. “What motel are you staying at?”

“I can text you the address just please…please hurry.”

With that, he hung up.

Please don’t be dying, you thought to yourself.

After several traffic violations and broken speed limits, you were finally knocking on his door.

“Dean!” you called out, not caring if it was now nearly three in the morning and there were definitely other people staying at the motel. “For the love of god Dean, open the fucking door!”

He unlocked and opened the door, rubbing his tired eyes. “Hey, you made it.” He smiled a little…smiled?

“Dean what the hell is going on?” you asked, trying to stay calm as you walked into the room. “You—That call? What’s up with you?”

“Nothing,” he shrugged, “I’m fine.”

“Fine?” You furrowed your brows. “Dean you called me in tears and asked me to race over here as if you were dying?”

“I…I wasn’t in tears,” he mumbled, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Hang on…how do I know you’re you?” you asked.

He smiled and rolled his eyes a little before you both did the usual tests.

“See, sweetheart? All me!” He smiled again.

“Dean,” you said softly, “what’s going on? Are you…Are you dying?”

“No!” he scoffed, not calming your nerves in the slightest. “I’m sorry I scared you I just…needed you here. With me, next to me. I—Fuck, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, Dean,” you shook your head, “I get it.”

You walked over to him and pulled him down into a hug; your right hand went to the back of his head as your fingers combed through his hair.

“I’m here Dean, you’re okay,” you told him. His grip tightened around you, as if he was scared you’d break off the hug. “I’m right here.”

“Thank you,” he whispered, his voice cracking again. “Thank you.”

The two of you stayed like that for what felt like an eternity. You were on your tiptoes, which was kind of uncomfortable, but your love for the man in your arms outweighed any discomfort. You felt Dean’s tears begin to dampen your neck and your eyes grew cloudy at the thought of him in pain. He truly mastered the art of silent crying, he must’ve had to hide his tears from that bastard father of his growing up, and that thought only made your heart break more. Your grip tightened around his shoulders and you turned your head so you could place a soft kiss on his temple. You made a trail of kisses down to his jawline then left your lips there against his skin.

“Thank you,” he pulled away, “just…thanks.”

“Do you wanna lay down, Dean?” you asked. “We could cuddle up and maybe watch a movie? Or we could listen to music? I’ve got my iPod and we could share my earbuds?”

A soft smile returned to his tear-stained face and he nodded; “Music sounds perfect.”

“Mkay,” you replied. “Now, I have to admit I don’t have many Zeppelin songs downloaded—”

“It’s okay,” he shook his head, “I don’t care what song we play, as long…as long as you’re here. Just need your company.”

“Funnily enough, I do have some Bad Company songs,” you joked, causing his smile to grow.

“You’re the best company,” he countered.

“Why don’t you change into your PJs while I go get my bags from the car? We can get comfortable in the bed and maybe you’ll even get some sleep.”

Your fingers were once again tangled in Dean’s hair as his head lay on your chest, he was facing away from you but you knew he was still crying. You just didn’t know why.

“Is this Heuy Lewis?” Dean chuckled.

“Hey! No disrespecting Heuy!” you laughed, but Dean knew you were serious. “You want me to skip it?”

“Nah, I’ll live,” he joked. The joke made your heart clench a little though; your mind going back to the call he made to you a mere few hours ago. How scared he sounded. How scared you were as you raced to get to him. Dean must’ve sensed the change in the room because he made sure to remind you; “I’m fine.”

“You said that line already, Dean,” you said through a sigh. “I’m here if you wanna talk, okay?”

“I don’t wanna talk,” he mumbled. “I meant what I said—I just need you here with me, I just need you around.”

Your free hand (the one that wasn’t currently in Dean’s hair) went to rub comforting circles on his upper back. He let out a contented sigh which made you smile.

“I love you, Dean,” you told him. “I love you more than anything, you know that, right?”

“Thank you,” he mumbled. He buried his face against your chest, trying to hide the sheepish smile forcing its way onto his face before he lifted his head so he could look into your eyes. “I love you so much.”

He leaned over and kissed you softly, his smile connecting with yours. He pulled away after a moment, simply looking into your eyes. He kissed you once more before laying back down, this time resting his head next to yours so he could kiss you again.

“Sorry about your shirt,” he said, laughing awkwardly at the damp mess of spilled tears covering a fair portion of your tee.

“I don’t mind, kinda like my shirt soggy,” you shrugged with a smile, pulling him closer to you and tucking your head under his chin.

When you woke the next morning you did not expect Dean to be singing to himself while making breakfast.

“What time is it?” you asked with a yawn as you sat up in bed.

“About seven,” he replied. “Good morning, by the way.”

“Good morning.”

You hurried over to the small kitchen so you could wrap your arms around him from behind.

“What’s gotten into you?” he teased.

“Could ask you the same question, handsome,” you replied, not letting go. “The food smells amazing and all, but since when do you cook?”

“Remember that fight we had?”

“I vaguely recall,” you said, somewhat flatly.

“I’ve been working on my breakfast cooking so when I saw you again I could you know…woo you.”

“‘Woo me’?” You raised a brow, your smile growing. “You’re wooing me…with bacon?”

“Damn right!” he scoffed lightheartedly. “I know the way into your heart, and whether you admit it or not—it’s mother fuckin’ breakfast food.”

“You know me way too well,” you laughed. “I’m officially wooed.”

There was a comfortable silence before Dean answered the question he knew you were still wondering about; “Sam and I fought last night.”

“I’m sorry,” you said.

“I knew him going to a fancy college would put a bit of a rift between us…but fuck, sweetheart,” he said. He ran his hands down his face before he leaned against the counter and looked at you; “I think we…I don’t think Sammy and I will ever be as close as we were growin’ up ever again.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, Dean,” you assured him, placing a hand on his bicep and giving it a comforting squeeze. “Sammy just needs time, maybe a bit of space, but that’s only temporary, Dean.”

“Seems like everyone around me always needs space,” he chuckled humorously.

“If this is about what I said—”

“Nah, you don’t have to explain yourself, I get it!” He shook his head, faking a smile. “You couldn’t stand being around me all the time and hey, that’s okay.”

Your brows furrowed with slight anger; “That’s not what I said, Dean.”

“That’s what it sounded like,” he mumbled before he turned back to the stove to continue making breakfast.

“Dean I love you, you know I love you!” you said. “I raced here last night when you asked me to, doesn’t that prove I love you!?”

“And what happens when we get into another fight?” he exclaimed. “What happens when you decide that you need more space and you don’t bother coming back to me?”

“That’s not going to happen?” you countered.

“You can’t say that for sure,” Dean said.

“Yes I can, Dean!”

“What makes you think that, huh?” he replied loudly. “What makes you think you aren’t gonna run the second you realize that putting space between was the best decision of your fucking life!?”

“Because I love you, Dean!” you said, matching his tone. “Because no matter how far away I was from you the one thought running through my head was that I should call you. That I should stop being so stubborn and run back to you.” You sighed as he continued cooking and you went up to him again, leaning on his bicep and running your hands up and down his forearm. “Because when I got that call…all logic flew out the window and all that mattered to me was getting to you. When I thought you might be dying I didn’t care about anything else and I raced to you like a mad woman. Like a girl so lovestruck she’s practically crazy!”

Dean let out a chuckle which made you smile.

“So…you’re sayin’ you missed me?” he asked, a cocky smirk finding its way to his lips.

“Yes,” you sighed dramatically. “Okay? Yes, Dean, I missed you like fuckin’ crazy, and I’m sorry for ever suggesting we take a damn break. But… you know what this means now, right?”

He looked at you cautiously; “What?”

“You’re stuck with me, Winchester.” You grinned. “And I’m never letting you go again.”

“Sounds good to me,” he replied as he leaned down and kissed you.

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laurelsofhighever · 4 months

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A list of potential cures for the Calling, that we know about, that BioWare has apparently forgotten

Andraste's grace: it's not specified whether the flower the kennelmaster has you pick in the Korcari Wilds is Andraste's grace or if the game just needed a one-off asset and decided to reuse one they already had. However, in the dark future in DAI, Leliana is found to have unusual tolerance for the taint, and in DAO she talks about her mother pressing her laundry with dried Andraste's grace flowers, so it makes you wonder. Anyway, the flower stops Barkspawn becoming a ghoul and seems to make them immune to the taint from that point on.

Maric's longsword: he finds it in the Deep Roads and is suprised it isn't covered in the same Blight-rot as everything else - until, that is, he touches the sword to a patch of it and sees it wither away. Whether it's the dragonbone the sword is made of or the runes on the blade is difficult to say, though if it was just the dragonbone then it would make sense for that to be a more well-known property of the material (and would have been an interesting reason for why dragons were hunted to extinction). If Alistair carries it with him, doesit slow the progession of the taint through his body? Does he know its effects, and give it to the HoF to help keep them safer on their journey to find a permanent cure?

That obsidian dagger Duncan finds in The Calling: the dagger belonged to First Enchanter Remille - who also gave the expedition members brooches that accelerated the spread of the taint. iirc the both the dagger and the brooches are made by the Architect with Blight magic, which means the darkspawn magisters have more knowledge of how the Blight works than the Chantry attributes to them.

Whatever the fuck is going on with Avernus: he hasn't managed to cure himself yet, but he's managed to make it to 200 and the Warden can let him continue his experiments if they don't kill him - and he'd be a really useful resource if the Warden later wanted to send him other potential cures for testing.

Dragons: they have an ability to isolate the Blight in their bodies by forming crystaline cysts around the initial infection to stop it spreading. Useful if it can be more widely applied. Also, it's implied that Maric's reaver blood, which Calenhad gained by mixing his blood with a dragon's, is what somehow cured Fiona of the taint, kinda like a reverse STI, BUT in the Deep Roads they went through an area where the walls were coated in a pale, chalky substance suspiciously devoid of Blight-rot and she touched it, so I'm a bit suspicious of that.

Blood magic: makes sense since the taint is a problem that starts with infected blood. There are two major instances in DA canon where blood magic has been used to purge the taint from an object or being (both by elves btw). The first is Isseya using it to draw the taint out of a clutch of unhatched griffon eggs, which she says is only possible because the taint hasn't yet taken over the hatchlings' bodies to the same extent that it had with the adult griffons. The second instance is Merrill purging the Blighted eluvian in DA2. It's insane that Anders - who is a reluctant Warden and who possibly knows the HoF seeks a cure - isn't more excited about this. She literally removed the Blight from a fully tainted object. Since Isseya proved the same can be done with living tissue, it's probably the closest we've come to an actual cure, but since it also took years there's no telling if it could be a practicaly solution for all Wardens

#dragon age #dragon age meta #da meta #i know HOF is looking for a cure 'deep in the west' but really #we all know that was just to get them out of the way so DAI's problems weren't solved in the first five minutes #grey wardens #hero of ferelden

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long-live-astronerd-ghost-king · 9 months

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DP x DC prompt. ~“Unstable connection”~ Dead on main.

Part 13. Hungry Ghost Festival 2

or Unplanned Criminal Lord’s Vacation with uncle John.

Part 1. Part 2. Part 3. Part 4. Part 5. Part 6. Part 7.

Part 8. Part 9. New: Part 9.1. Part 9.2. Part 9.3.

Part 10. Part 11. Part 12. Meme break №1. Part 13.

~~~~

Jason looked at the phone screen and didn’t believe Danny has really decided to entrust his safety in the haunted lair to one drunk and unrequited Phantom.

He had enough. Jason jumped up and grabbed his helmet off the table.

‘Where do you think you’re going? Patrol’s coming soon.’ Tim took his eyes off the documents.

‘None of your business.’ Red Hood quickly found keys to a jet and ran for an exit. ‘Cass, while I’m gone, you’re in charge of the alley.’

~~~~

Demons, spirits, and ghosts swung around as if in a dance. And Danny, whom Jason easily spotted entering The Gambler’s Den, did not seem foreign at this festival of death. The red light gently illuminated his pale skin, which almost fused with color of his white kimono. The flowing fabric made his silhouette as blurry and elusive as most visitors.

One second without looking at the boy, and he was in the opposite corner, where the crowd were much smaller. VIP zone? Otherworldly creatures, deserving special treatment, were rarely friendly to humans. And Jason was tense about it for a moment. But after noticing waving with enthusiasm teenager, a man in white clothes rushed to respond to the gesture and a ghost with an eye patch sitting in the chair nodded to him, ringing with silver earrings.

Jason let his guard down a bit.

Another man in the black robe was not distracted by Danny. He threw the bones and glanced at them in disappointment. Then ghoul banged the table with fist. He rose, grabbed from a nearby bowl a mantou and bit. The next second his face was distorted by awareness and disgust.

He abruptly removed the triangle-shaped headband from Danny’s head and spat out a bite into it. Then ghoul fell to a floor. Well, nice carpets have softened it.

Jason shook his head, trying not to laugh at the strange situation.

At the same time, Danny boldly stepped over the fallen player and sat in a chair in front of the ghost in black and red clothes. The man began to demonstrate a technique of throwing bones, with continuous ringing after moving of his hands. Danny seemed passionate about this.

Constantine, who did not come with the Red Hood voluntarily, decides for the first time in the evening to speak out.

‘That’s weird.’ Constantine said with an intonation that spoke of his distrust of the situation.

‘What is it now?’ Jason took his eyes off the object of interest.

Fenton must be watched for his safety. Why did the warlock distract him? Jason completely distrusted Danny’s promise not to use his body parts as a bet.

‘His clothes.’ Constantine looked at the boy with discomfort. ‘Boy, are you sure your lover is alive?’

‘Don’t be rude. He looks great,’ said Jason ‘Maybe Danny wanted to dress up in a traditional costume. And it's not polite to ask people if they are alive. He’s always pale in all the photos. ’

Jason didn’t think costume selection was such a big deal.

‘No.’ Warlock shook his head ‘Kimono is Japanese national costume, not Chinese at all. And it’s on the left side which means your boyf..’

Unfamiliar to Jason spirit came up and patted Danny on the shoulder. The spirit and the boy bowed to each other.

‘I see.’ The puzzled expression on the warlock’s face is gone. ‘Your lover has interesting friends, Hood.’

‘Who is this guy? Explanation. Now.’ Jason barked irritably. Why did he always have to pull every word out of John?

‘Nurarihyon. Don’t be so nervous, he’s not dangerous to people. I just realized your boy here after a walk with Hyakki Yakko. Which explains the clothes.’ Сonstantine exhaled cigarette smoke and continued. ‘Your love doesn’t waste any time. In one evening, he met three ghost kings.’

‘Hyakki Yakko?’ Jason asked a lot calmer.

‘The night parade of one hundred demons when all of the yōkai, oni, ghosts parade through the streets.’ John shrugged his shoulders and shook the ashes off the cigarette into the nearest ashtray. It was also red and black. Warlock winced. ‘But your boyfriend feels like a fish in the water. Whoever his protector is, he is respected enough here. Let the guy have a drink and have some fun, he’ll be fine.’

‘God. Danny’s like a sheep in wolf’s clothing’ Jason sighed anxiously. ‘His parents are ghost hunters but he’s here as a plus one for Phantom, a ghost from Amity Park.’

‘More like a wolf in sheep’s clothing.’ Constantine muttered to himself. But when he saw a silver butterfly nearby, he decided that revealing other people’s secrets was not his problem. ‘I know who the Phantom is. Everyone has heard about Pariah Dark.’

Jason has not heard about him, but decided to keep quiet so as not to make a fool of himself. He will ask Danny about it.

Constantine took a brandy from the bartender. Then he took a big sip and looked at Jason. ‘You know, I always thought Little Red Riding Hood was incredibly stupid to let a wolf eat herself.’

‘What’s this about, Constantine?’ Hood rolled his eyes under the helmet.

And immediately he was glad that John did not see it. In the end, he helped him a lot not to scare Danny. Without the old man’s comments, he could have easily carried the boy away from the local ghosts on his shoulder like a caveman.

Jay didn’t want to spoil a first impression of a face-to-face meeting because of a kidnapping. Although, looking at how comfortable Fenton was among the nonhuman creatures, Jason doubted that Danny would have been screaming and panicking. But he wouldn’t be happy about being distracted from the fun. Hood shook his head in disappointment.

‘Nothing important.’ John brushed the silver butterfly off his shoulder. ‘You know, I’m in debt to the owner, so..If you don’t need my favors anymore, I’m leaving.’

‘Wait. Help me find Phantom.’ Сrime lord stopped him. ‘I need to make sure he doesn’t leave Danny here alone.’

John turned and looked at him as if he were terminally ill. ‘Phantom is in this room now. Only an idiot would have missed him.’ John spoke slowly and clearly, raising one eyebrow. ‘A conference of four kings. No joke. Stop poking around and messing up international relations, kid.’

Jason looked around the room again. ‘I don’t see him.’

‘Because you’re an idiot, kid’ John patted Jay on the shoulder and left. ‘Good luck explaining to Batman why you stole his jet.’

‘Heck.’

#dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp #dpxdc #dcxdp #dead on main ship #dead on main #danny phantom x jason todd #danny phantom #danny fenton #non dpxdc characters play an occasional role #heaven official's blessing here #cause gambler’s den is cool

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robbie-wallis · 6 days

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I need to vent about Watcher, endure it if you can

Relax, this isn't a parasocial thing, but it is a long ass post, which suits me as a long ass human.

I need an outlet to discuss the terrible business decision Watcher has made by announcing their plan to leave YouTube, and this long-forgotten Tumblr account reached from its grave to grab at my ankle.

If you didn't see their video, good for you. It's extremely cringe-worthy in its sentimentality and editing, with blurry shots, pensive pauses and obligatory sad piano.

But at least there's no f'ing Ukulele.

Although, I think we might get the Ukulele in a few months.

Even though anyone who reads this is probably familiar with what the "Ghoul Boys" have done, I feel as though I need to add a little history.

WATCHER HISTORY

You can skip this part if you've been obsessively following the shenanigans, this is for the noobs who were never a "shaniac" or a "boogara".

Shane Madej and Ryan Bergara used to work at Buzzfeed. They hosted the successful Buzzfeed Unsolved shows. In 2019 they followed in the footsteps of the Try Guys and Safia Nygaaard and left Buzzfeed to create their own YouTube channel named "Watcher".

They brought along Steven Lim, another Buzzfeed person who is most known for the "Worth It" series. This series followed Lim and his friend/s spending obscene amounts of money on obscenely overpriced and indulgent products.

Think of it as being similar to the $100 V's $10,000 Sidemen content, only without the self-awareness and British "bad lads" humor.

Notably, even the Sidemen seem to have cut back on those adventures, perhaps understanding how bad it looks when so many people are struggling to pay their essential bills.

Steven became the CEO of Watcher while Shane and Ryan continued to create and present for the new channel.

They were wildly successful by YouTube standards. At the time of their self-spanking on Friday they were close to achieving 3 million subscribers, in just 4 years, based on basically only 2 cornerstone shows. If Social Blade is still a reasonably trusted source in everything but estimating income, they were gaining thousands of new subscribers every week.

Their most successful shows were Ghost Files, Puppet History, Too Many Spirits and Mystery Files.

Ghost Files is the only one of these shows which requires heavy investment, travel, a large crew and impressive production costs. These videos are shot on-location and require a lot of work. The rest are basically Good Mythical Morning style, just the two hosts and their banter.

Aside from Ghost Files, their content could be created with 3 cameras, 2 lapel mics and a good editor.

They were massively successful, solely because of Ryan and Shane.

THE DEMISE

So, what did they do on Friday 19th April? They decided to announce the launch of their own subscription platform.

Not a Patreon for extra content, behind-the-scenes, audience interaction etc, (they already had a Patreon with 6,000 paying subscribers earning them at least $50k a month), but a bespoke streaming platform which looks like a clone of Netflix.

The cost is $5.99 a month, or $60 a year.

Comparable to Netflix.

And by that I mean the price is comparable to Netflix while the content is comparable to a 4 year old YouTube channel.

Don't get me wrong, their production quality is incredible. The quantity, however, is not.

From the end of May viewers will have to pay to be a subscriber on their own platform in order to watch their shows.

They'll still be posting their trailers on YouTube, and the first episodes of new shows, but to watch it all you'll have to pay up or miss out.

Edited to add: Variety originally reported the Watcher crew were planning to remove all their existing content from YouTube to monetize it on their own platform. It's since been confirmed they will not be removing their old content. Fans are undecided whether this was a back-track after the announcement or a misunderstanding by Variety. You be the judge.

Of course, they're entitled to do this. They are creating a product and you can either enjoy it or not. No one is entitled to see it, for free, whenever they like.

Why did they do this?

Half of the sombre video gushes about their "humble beginnings" as "struggling young guys in a big harsh world", which comes across as extremely self-indulgent and ego-stroking.

A quarter of it explains how insanely successful they've been on YouTube and how this is all thanks to the fans who stuck with them after Buzzfeed, how it's allowed them to hire 25 people, how it's given them the freedom to create what they enjoy making and what the viewers want to see, and - most importantly - how it's allowed them to increase production quality on Ghost Files.

The final quarter of the video explains that this isn't good enough, the quality isn't high enough, the finish not glossy enough, it's not "TV caliber" enough! They want more, they need more, you have to give them more, mostly (apparently) because their CEO Steven Lim wants to bring back his show where he flies around the world with his bestie sipping Champagne and eating gold-leaf-covered lobster.

In short, they want more money to make even bigger things, even though their audience never asked for that.

WHY IT WILL NOT WORK

Oh my goodness, this is going to be a ride so strap in.

I'm not a YouTube creator so there are a lot of things I do not know. Having said that, I know a little about business.

This ain't Buzzfeed, y'all

Watcher became successful because of Ryan and Shane. It was their friendship, their personalities, and the content we loved to watch featuring them at Buzzfeed, that brought us along for the ride.

The audience they poached from Buzzfeed is there for them and Ghost Files. It's not there for Steven Lim and "Worth It". His show worked under the Buzzfeed umbrella only because they had numerous sub-categories in that community to support it.

The Try Guys left and created their own channel from their Buzzfeed fans.

Safia Nygaard left and created her own channel from her Buzzfeed fans.

Shane and Ryan left and created Watcher from their Buzzfeed fans.

Steven Lim left and became the CEO of Watcher. He didn't take his audience with him.

The audience of Watcher is not the audience of "watch me fly around the word with my pal and spend $100K on hand-reared, Whiskey marinaded, diamond-encrusted Kobe steak".

And... IN THIS ECONOMY?

Steven chose to become a CEO instead of a presenter. He's missed the opportunity to take that Buzzfeed audience with him.

This is made clear by the Watcher channel itself. Their "man eats food" content rarely breaks 500K views while their Ghost Files breaks 2 million consistently.

If a million of their viewers followed them from Buzzfeed to Watcher, the other 2 million have joined them since, based almost entirely on their spoopy content.

Not only did they base their channel on this genre and format, they have distilled their audience further ever since the creation of their channel and no matter how hard they try to diversify into "man eats food" it's just not working.

This ain't Netflix, y'all

As mentioned, the $5.99 charge is comparable to Netflix and just about every other streaming platform. Only Watcher can't give you even 5% of what a competing platform can offer for that price.

Other platforms also tailor their content and their pricing based on geographical location and localized economics.

You're paying far less than $5.99 a month if you live in an economy where the median household income is $300 a month. YouTube has a global audience. Their subscribers don't all live in a stable economy where $5.99 is considered disposable income.

We don't know the numbers, but I would guess only 60% of their subscribers are based in the USA, Canada, and the UK.

Even for those who do live in a stable economy, their audience is predominantly young adults and students. Most young adults are currently facing the reality that they will possibly never own their own home, they're living day-to-day trying to budget.

They've instantly priced-out a large % of their audience.

I confidently predict that diehard fans who can't see anything wrong with this will sign up for $5.99 a month, binge watch for a couple of weeks, realize there's no new spoopy content and cancel.

They'll come back when a full season of Ghost Files has arrived, pay again, binge it and leave.

Steven Lim thinks they're gonna get $5.99 a month, every month, from thousands of subscribers. In reality they're going to get maybe $12 a year, from people signing up to binge watch what they want, then leaving.

This will then decline naturally as attention wanes during the months where there is no spoopy.

This ain't good marketing, y'all

They're going to be posting "trailers and season pilots" on YouTube.

Sure, I bet YouTube is gonna be totes okay with a channel doing nothing but trying to hijack traffic for an external site.

Posting nothing but trailers and season premiers will mean maybe one full video per month during busy seasons. That's not enough to remain relevant for the algorithm.

If 80% of those posts are also just trailers saying "leave YouTube and come here", the channel will be smacked down quicker than a crypto scam using an AI generated Elongated Muskrat.

Their channel was growing steadily, but that was with full content regularly posted. When the schedule drops off, and when most of it is considered spammy by YouTube, it's going to collapse like a flan in a cupboard.

A streaming platform needs a constant flow of new subscribers just to replace the gradual drop-off (maybe ask Rooster Teeth about that). When your global audience at YouTube is gone, where are those new subscribers coming from?

The platform is also an additional overhead. It's going to cost thousands a month to keep the servers going.

This ain't good financial management, y'all

I don't know if they've already spent hundreds of thousands of $s on Lim's "men eat food" gamble, but I suspect they have.

I know they have spent hundreds of thousands of $s on a new season of Ghost Files, flying to the UK to host live events while filming those episodes.

This means they've over-extended their finances just at the moment where they've cratered their opportunities to see a return on investment.

Just that, on its own, is enough to destroy a production company.

They do not need 25 employees any more than I need an editor and proof-reader for this long ass post.

They do not need a production studio in Hollywood any more than I needed an office to write this.

They do not need to spend tens of thousands of $s on glossy graphics that appear on screen for maybe 4 seconds in one episode any more than I needed to add screengrabs to this painfully long essay.

By leaving YouTube they've lost:

Adsense revenue (which might not be much on a per-video basis but adds up with a back catalogue over years of productions)

Sponsorship deals, which allegedly contributes almost 50% of their annual revenue.

Merch sales, which is about to crash if the only people they can promote merch to are already paying per month in their smaller ecosystem.

Patreon. Why would someone pay $5.99 twice, for the same or less content?

And they've abandoned all of this for maybe a few thousand people who will probably end up paying just $12 a year when a new spoopy season arrives for them to binge.

I'm no Will Hunting, but no matter how hard I try to make the numbers work they just don't, and I don't need Robin Williams to tell me it's not my fault.

This ain't nice, y'all

Some of you are feeling like Ned's wife right now, and some of you will have no idea what that's in reference to.

Most of you will hate that I made that reference more than you hated the SNL skit.

I get it.

Maybe the worst part about all of his, from a viewer's perspective, is the dismissive nature of their sign-off.

They didn't mention the Patreon members once, not one single time in the whole video. It's like they consider the Patreon "too YouTube". They're the deformed cousin locked in the attic. They're the relative who wasn't invited to the wedding because they can't afford a Tom Ford suit. They're the colleague who isn't invited to the staff night out because they only work in accounting and no one has anything in common with Janice anyway.

These are diehard fans who were actually paying them extra to support them and enjoy a little bonus behind the scenes, and the boys didn't even consider them worthy of an utterance.

They also finished with "If you don't follow us and pay up it's been real, peace out". I'm paraphrasing, but that's basically what it was.

They spent so much of the video saying how awesome and great it was that the fans and YouTube got them to this point, but they didn't thank their Patreon members, and they ended with a blunt suggestion that if you don't follow them and pay more then you're not a real fan anyway and they don't really need you.

"Thanks for getting us here, sucks to be you, bye now!"

You made them wealthy, you helped them hire 25 people, you helped them increase production value to "TV caliber" even though you didn't ask for that, but your job is done and now you're superfluous. Only the real fans are wanted.

In the words of the great George Carlin - "It's a big club, and you ain't in it".

They're okay losing the vast majority of the people who got them here if a few thousand of those are comfortable enough to be able to pay $60 a year for a YouTube channel.

Can it get worse? Sure!

We've had a weekend to enjoy the constant heat of this bonfire and it's predictably worsened with each hour of silence from the company and its employees.

The fact that they haven't back-tracked, despite almost unanimous agreement that this is badder than the baddest thing that could happen to their company, suggests they're okay with it.

Consensus seems to be that they knew it would be this bad, and they're cool. They predicted 90% of people would scream "Boo to you good sirs! Boo indeed!" and they could still survive on the 10% who don't see a problem here.

The lack of response reinforces the narrative that they're totally fine with discarding almost their entire audience if they can just squeeze the cash they need out of whoever is left.

This ain't fixable, y'all (maybe)

Note: I don't want this to be mean, but it's going to sound a little bitchy no matter how I try to say it.

If they'd brought out the Ukulele on Saturday, or even teased Ukulele's on their socials before putting out a video on Sunday, they probably could have survived this with much hand-wringing and a little groveling.

But now I think they've grilled this Kobe steak for far too long.

They've lost 100K subscribers, and counting. The venom among Patreon members is allegedly worse than the public comments section under the video, which is startling. Dozens of YouTubers are torching them harder than a $100 crème brûlée.

People are scraping their channel content in case it's nuked.

Shane "eat the rich" Madej's sentiments over the last few years look disingenuous, to say the least. To shamelessly steal someone else's comment: "Imagine being all 'eat the rich' right before throwing yourself on the plate". He's silent while his McMansion burns down, at his own hands. "Why not!?" indeed.

Steven "I drive a Tesla" Lim's socials now make him look like a tech-bro try-hard and his use of words like "early adopter" and "soft launch" in the video only compound the belief that this was all his brainchild. He is the CEO, and that comes with responsibility and the associated blame. You can't steer the ship into the Bermuda Triangle and then disappear without looking like the bad guy.

Okay, you can disappear, but that convoluted metaphor is a mystery for someone else to solve.

Ryan "TV caliber" Bergara now sounds like an elitist who thinks YouTube is "too pedestrian" for his big plans, not big enough to meet his artistic vision. You see, he's more James Cameron, while YouTube is more like your student film club. He's grown beyond this pesky platform with billions of daily hits offering exponential growth with almost zero financial risk.

Even if they released a video today admitting they messed up big time it's still going to be hard to get the taste of this Ghost Pepper Warhead out of the collective mouth of their viewers.

This hasn't just burned their shared brand, it's singed their individual reputations among an audience upon which their careers rely.

What they should have done, on Saturday, is release a video (Ukulele or no) confessing their error. They should have announced their new platform will instead just be a bigger and better Patreon, with early access to everything, behind-the-scenes content, extra features, audience interaction etc.

They should have reversed to make clear their YouTube channel will stay the priority, their main source of revenue, but that you could get more on their own platform if you want it.

And, maybe, over time, people will pay for that. If they grow their channel to 6 million subscribers in the next 4 years there will be a couple hundred thousand of them willing and able to pay $5.99 a month for 8 years of shows, 8 years of behind the scenes content, 8 years of community involvement and regular early access to new episodes.

Maybe then they could try out their "privileged guys eat expensive food in expensive places" show and see how it does? Maybe a majority of people won't be living on the cusp of poverty by then and it won't look as tone-deaf as a 13 year old YouTuber trying to cover Jeff Buckley's "Hallelujah"? Maybe then they could hire another 50 people and make Bergara's "TV caliber" (I still don't know exactly what that means) game shows and reboots?

The clock has been ticking since they hit that "publish" button on their career ending video, but that clock is about to count down to zero and silence will permeate throughout their previously lively community.

That 1980s basement set needed someone crying in the corner, right?

The problem is, their own platform is not a terrible idea. Really, it's not the worst thing they could do. The badness came in the timing, the switch, the middle finger and the f you. They could have released this as an extra, their own Patreon alternative, waited, developed it over time into something sustainable and established.

They could still try to do that and hope this dark chapter is forgotten.

Maybe I'm wrong? Maybe Lim is a financial genius with more skill than the management of Rooster Teeth and their corporate parent company combined? Maybe this gamble will be wildly successful despite all streaming services down-sizing or just going bankrupt? Maybe they won't be back on YouTube in 3-6 months begging for views after having to lay off 20 of their employees?

I know this... if I were one of those 25 employees blind faith would not be enough to stop me from looking for another job.

I suppose this will, for now, remain... a mystery.

EDIT:

I'm not writing another essay about this, but I'm glad to see they've backtracked and made the right choice to use WatcherTV as any sane creator would - to host early access and exclusive content in addition to their YouTube channel.

Over time, while promoting it in every video, building up that trust and fan base, it can be a secure and long-term financial bonus helping them to expand their business incrementally as finances allow.

Why this wasn't the plan all along is anyone's guess. Gambling everything on this was never the sane decision.

I still think they need to scale back on costs. I still think the food content is not currently a viable source of income while being a serious drain on resources. I still think they need to stop hiring all their friends and they need to hire one person who doesn't have personal relationships with everyone there and can make the tough business decisions.

No one likes firing people, it's ten times worse when it's a friend. But this is a reality of business and just wishing it wasn't so isn't going to make it go away. It would be awesome if we could all run a business where we can hire all our friends and family, never have to rely on any outside funding, make whatever we want, make a great living in one of the most expensive cities in the world and continue to grow.

That's just not the reality.

Their apology was genuine, in my opinion. I just hope they can work out the right financial balance.

#watcher #ghoul boys #steven lim #watcher entertainment #shane and ryan #ghost files

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sailoryooons · 7 months

Text

T R I C K O R T R E A T

presented by BTS Fantasy and Fangs

Celebrate this Hallows' Eve with legends told by our most esteemed ghouls. Enter worlds of the unknown and lose yourself in these tales. But beware: one might lose themselves in these hallowed stories.

Rating: Works range from SFW and NSFW. Each work will have its own set of warnings.

Note: This collaboration features works written as general works and works that were assigned via a Secret-Santa style within the BTS Fantasy & Fangs server in which writers did not know who was gifting them a work!

LEGENDS COMING THROUGHOUT OCTOBER.

T R I C K S

☾ Title: Devil Town

☾ Pairing: Platonic OT7 x reader

☾ Summary: You take a chance and spend a month in Devil Town: a quaint little place nestled deep in the woods of The Unknown, where the air is always a touch chilly, things are never quite what they seem, and no one will tell you anything.

☾ Genre/AU: Autumn?? A lil spooky, a lil whimsy, a lil mystery; not quite angst, not quite fluff

☾ Rating: PG

as told by @park-jimin-isnt-real

Read Now

☾ Title: Handmaidens

☾ Pairing: OT7 x reader

☾ Summary: When the murder of handmaidens begin in Joseon, you are assigned to serve the throne – the seven imperial princes, sons of Lord Sihyuk. Despite your loyalty, your suspicions begin to rise about the killings. Can you escape the palace before it’s too late?

☾ Genre/AU: Joseon Era thriller/slasher

☾ Rating: TBD

as told by @eserethriddle

☾ Title: Have Mercy

☾ Paring: Demon!Jimin x Reader | Alpha!Yoongi x Reader | Demon!Jimin x Alpha!Yoongi

☾ Summary: As a crossroads demon, Jimin is no stranger to vile creatures. Summoned once more, Jimin is surprised to find one of the purest souls asking for his help. Not only does he accept her deal, but while watching over her, Jimin finds himself falling for the very soul he is meant to devour. Eager to confess, Jimin summons the sweet soul only for his plan to turn sour when someone far more evil finds her alone.

☾ Genre/AU: Angst | Smut | Strangers to Lovers | Demon AU | A/B/O AU

☾ Rating: 21+ | Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

as told by @sweetestofchaos

Title: The One who Saved Us All

Pairing: Kim Seokjin x Reader

Summary: It's the annual Halloween celebration in Seoul, where everyone from different walks of life get together and celebrate the history of the Vidyadhara. But when someone decides to cause some trouble, Seokjin's best-kept secret comes to life.

Genre/AU: Halloween, Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Disaster?

Rating: Maybe M to MA 15+

as told by @quirkybtsarmy

☾ Title: Simply Meant to Be

☾ Pairing: pumpkin king!jungkook x fem reader

☾ Genre/AU: nightmare before Christmas au, romance, horror, smut

☾ Rating: m (18+)

☾ Summary: You aren’t sure how any of it can be real. This place…these creatures…this man.

You wake up next to a man you’ve never seen before with no memory of who he is or where you are.

But everyone in town seems to know you. You belong to the Pumpkin King. Scared and utterly terrified you run into someone who claims they can help you remember. And now you’re starting to wonder if that’s truly what you want.

as told by @caelesjjk

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T R E A T S

☾ Title: Blessed With A Curse

☾ Pairing: Werewolf!Jungkook x Hybrid!Reader

☾ Summary: When your company throws a mandatory Halloween party, you aren’t thrilled. You’re even less thrilled when a delusional coworker ruins the party and places a curse on everyone because her crush, the resident werewolf, Jeon Jungkook, rejected them. OR When a coworker gets rejected at the company Halloween party, things get crazy.

☾ Genre/AU: Smut, Werewolf AU, Hybrid AU, Modern Magic AU

☾ Rating: NC-17

as told by @sweetestofchaos for @jessikahathaway

Read Now

☾ Title: Bump In The Night

☾ Pairing: Bogeyman!Yoongi x f. reader

☾ Summary: The dark can be scary; full of strange, unseen things. Just when you think you’ve got a handle on your fear, the lights go out, and you face the reality that you were always right—you should fear the dark and especially what’s waiting in it.

☾ Genre/AU: Monster Under The Bed, Horror/Thriller, Angst, Smut

☾ Rating: MA

as told by @colormepurplex2 for @minisugakoobies

Read Now

☾ Title: Carmen

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Jimin x human!Taehyung

☾ Summary: Taehyung gets lured to an exclusive club by a strange, enchanting woman. What finds him there is much more intoxicating and dangerous.

☾ Genre/AU: Supernatural, Vampires, Smut

☾ Rating: Explicit/Mature

as told by @sailoryooons for @gimmethatagustd

Read Now

☾ Title: Fledgling

☾ Pairing: Jungkook x Namjoon

☾ Summary: Jungkook is tired of his dreary existence. So when a mysterious stranger offers him a way out of life as he knows it, he takes it without hesitation.

☾ Genre/AU: Vampire AU, horror, smut

☾ Rating: 21+ | Dead Dove: Do Not Eat

as told by @theharrowing for @sweetestofchaos

Read Now

☾ Title: Love As Soft As a Distant Star

☾ Pairing: Min Yoongi | Reader, Min Yoongi | Park Jimin

☾ Summary: You didn’t mean to fall in love with your husband and fellow Witches’ Councilmember Yoongi, but here you are: in love. (How gauche and not the thing. You’re co-workers, not lovers.) It’s particularly inconvenient since he is in love with someone else.

☾ Genre/AU: Witch AU, arranged marriage AU

☾ Rating: Explicit/Mature

as told by @vyduan for @colormepurplex2

Read Now

☾ Title: Lose Your Head

☾ Pairing: Park Jimin x F!Reader

☾ Summary: As a constable’s assistant you have several duties to him and the police force. Not only as his assistant, but as his dear friend. However, when an ominous summoning sends you and Jimin both to the town of Sleepy Hollow, you fear there might be more at play than either of you understand. And feelings that you’d hope to bury for life bubble to the surface...

☾ Genre/AU: Movie!AU, Thriller, SleepyHollow!AU, Smut, Romance. Rating: 21+

as told by @jessikahathaway for @/sailoryooons

Read Now

☾ Title: The Love Witch

☾ Pairing: witch!yoongi x demon!taehyung

☾ Summary: Despite being a popular romance blogger, Yoongi isn’t interested in finding love. He only summons a demon boyfriend to prove to his followers that it’s possible. He’ll send Taehyung right back to Hell once he’s done with him, obviously.

☾ Genre/AU: fantasy, strangers to lovers, fake dating (kinda), light angst, smut, fluff, humor

☾ Rating: 18+

as told by @gimmethatagustd for @theharrowing

Read Now

☾ Title: Passage

☾ Pairing: Captain!Yoongi x Dracula!Jimin

☾ Summary: For several years, Min Yoongi and the crew of the Magpie have sailed the perilous waters of the Pacific, surviving treacherous waves and other deadly threats in order to deliver goods to the West. Now, on his final voyage as captain, Yoongi is about to face a danger like none he’s ever seen before - and he may find it too tempting to resist.

☾ Genre/AU: horror, supernatural, angst, smut, Dracula!AU

☾ Rating: M(18+)

as told by @minisugakoobies for @vyduan

Read Now

Disclaimer: This is a collaboration put on for members of the BTS Fantasy and Fangs Server. These stories, characters, and festivals used here are not meant to represent any real or factual people, places, or things.

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