#it felt so much more substantial than canon at the time LOL

[dearcharms]

add/ara may be my otp of all otps but i'll be honest, add/eun feels practically canon LOL

[ihavemanyhusbands]

Vidas Pasadas (Past Lives)

PART THREE: THE HERO ALWAYS GETS THE GIRL

Also on AO3

Part One // Part Two // Mini-Series Masterlist

Pairing: Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Latina!Reader (Spanish speaking)

WC: 5.9k words

Chapter Summary: It was always meant to end up this way, wasn't it? Some things never changed.

Warnings: Minors DNI this fic is 18+, canon typical violence, reader kidnapped by raiders, the ghoul being the ghoul, cursing, some injuries (very mild whump), mentions of death/loss, heavyyyy angst (happy ending tho!), only a little Spanish dialogue, love confession, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (fem receiving), irradiated creampie (with RadAway after lol), aaaaand that's all I can think of but please lmk if I missed anything!

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In the Past….

You had been restless all day, unable to explain why. Something just didn’t feel right, and not knowing what it was made you feel even worse.

Your house had felt large and empty as you paced around it, smoking. All those long hours, you were acutely aware of the clock’s ticking — Time relentlessly marching on, waiting for no one.

 Once you’d actually gone to bed, you’d tossed and turned long into the night. The moon shone faintly through a gap between the curtains, barely illuminating your bedroom. You could not face the yawning void of solitude you found at that hour, so you got up. 

Things had gotten much trickier in a short amount of time. There had been many more bomb drills, more fear and paranoia, and substantially fewer job opportunities.

Cooper was no longer acting. He simply wouldn’t get cast anymore, so he had to look in other directions. The loss was tremendous, for yourself and the industry. Moviemaking didn’t quite feel the same anymore, its luster having faded.

You saw him much less, but you still tried to keep in touch. You’d even helped him care for Janey a few times when he had to take an odd gig that would run late. Slowly, he was becoming a shell of the man he formerly was, and you felt helpless to stop it.

But that night, you couldn’t hold yourself back, leaving your house in just a coat and your night dress, like a ghostly apparition. The drive there was nebulous, like you were moving on autopilot. You drifted up the steps and pressed the buzzer to his apartment a few times.

When he came down to see who was at the door, he looked a little worse for wear, like he’d been having a hard time sleeping, too. He ushered you inside, not wanting you to be out in the cold.

“What happened?” Cooper said, worriedly searching you for any sign of injury. “It’s the middle of the night, why didn’t you telephone?”

“I’m so sorry, Coop,” you said, as if waking up from a trance. “Did I wake you up?”

He shook his head, leading you to the old, rickety elevator and pressing the button to his floor. 

“No, I was up. Lucky you didn’t wake Janey, though. She’s with me this weekend.”

You covered your face with your hands, ashamed. “Oh God, I’m a mess, aren’t I?”

He wrapped an arm around your shoulders, worrying even more at your clear distress. He guided you to his unit, which was smaller than you’d imagined. It’d been a while since Cooper and Barb’s sudden divorce, but he barely seemed to be settling in. The walls were mostly bare, and the sparse furniture seemed to have been included with the unit. There were only a few pictures, mostly of him and Janey, but a few of just his daughter. 

He had never really told you what happened, but the change had seemingly occurred overnight. He simply said he was done, that he couldn’t even look at her anymore. You were still pretty baffled about the whole thing, but it wasn’t your business to pry about. You simply supported him however you could.

Barb had not gone easy on him, having the best lawyers Vault-Tec could afford. He had Janey some weekends, but he didn’t get to see her nearly enough. It was a bad situation altogether, and you were sad for everyone involved.

“Cozy,” was all you could whisper after a moment of silence, to which he snorted derisively.

You went to sit on the couch, arms around yourself. The two of you kept your voices soft so as not to wake Janey, and you felt a pang in your chest knowing she was near. She was such a bright ray of sunshine, and you were glad that she and Cooper had each other despite everything.

And especially on a night like that one, when the world seemed to be holding its breath in anticipation of something.

“Drink?” He offered, already pouring himself a glass of scotch in the small kitchen.

You nodded, sniffling, trying to keep the tears that threatened to crawl up your throat at bay. He shuffled back over to you, a frown still on his face.

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?” He encouraged, handing you the glass and sitting next to you on the couch. 

How could you possibly explain the feeling of grief you had, when you hadn’t really lost anyone? 

Not yet, at least.

“I don’t know, I just… I had to see you,” you said, taking a sip of your drink. “I didn’t even think about it, I just got in the car and drove.”

“Well, ain’t that sweet,” he chuckled, the sound a little awkward. “But it couldn’t wait until morning?”

“No, Coop, I can’t even explain it. If I tried, I’m sure you’d think I’m crazy.”

“Try me,” he said. “You know you can trust me.”

You set your glass down and scanned his features for a moment, committing them to memory. Then, without a word, you leaned in and brought your lips to his chastely.

 You had kissed dozens of times in the past, but for the first time, it was as yourselves. Love was the only thing you could give him then. Years worth of it had accumulated inside of you, with nowhere to go… until that moment. 

But your heart was breaking at the same time. Instinctively, you realized this would be your only opportunity to do so. Tears swam in your vision, but you turned your face away before he could see the one that escaped.

Cooper blinked, too stunned to react. You sniffled, pulling back, hands wringing anxiously. He shook his head, snapping out of it.

“Why are you crying?” He asked, hands cupping your face. “I ain’t that bad of a kisser, am I?”

You let out a sad little chuckle, which sounded more like a sob.

I love you, you wanted to say. I love you, I love you, te amo con todo mi corazón*. Please find a way to live, whatever happens.

(*I love you with all my heart)

“Please, take care of yourself,” you pleaded softly instead. “Give little Janey a kiss from me.”

And with that, you got up from the couch and left him like a thief in the night. He’d called for you, but you’d been faster, running down the stairs and heading back to your car. You simply couldn’t handle it anymore. The waiting, the fretting, feeling so fucking helpless…  Wouldn’t it be better just to get it all over with?

The rest of the night blurred into a gouache rendition of melancholy and self pity. In the morning, as soon as you were able, you phoned Bud Askins — the Vault-Tec executive who had organized your admission into Vault thirty one — to ask for an expedited entry.

And just as he picked up the phone, you looked out the window and saw the enormous, fiery mushroom cloud rising as if from the depths of hell itself.

——————————————

The Present….

“There she is,” one of the raiders pointed at the old TV screen, where one of your movies was playing. “No wonder she looked so goddamn familiar. Got ourselves a movie star, boys.”

“Gotta be a clone or somethin’, no way she’s lived this long,” another one said.

“What does it matter? Whoever buys her won’t be able to tell the difference. Fresh meat’s hard to come by, and this is the luxury kind,” the first one gruffed, looking back at you over his shoulder. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

You could only glare at him from your spot against the wall. You were gagged, your ankles and wrists bound by old rope. Two days had passed, in which the raiders hadn’t done much other than tie you up and haul you around. You’d gotten a few scraps of food, but not nearly enough to even be considered a snack. Thirst and hunger clung to your very bones, but you were lucky that your survival instincts had kept you going so far. 

You might not have been a fighter before, but now you were determined to keep yourself alive at all costs. It hadn’t taken long for you to realize that things were truly ruthless in the wasteland, and it all basically narrowed down to kill or be killed. 

You weren’t sure yet if you’d be able to go through with something like that, but you had no other choice but to try if it came down to it.

You were still holding out hope that the ghoul would come find you, but you were well aware that you couldn’t just rely on that possibility. You were running low on time, unsure of how long exactly the potential transaction would take to complete. Or if they would grow tired of searching for buyers and try to possess you themselves. 

You would not let it get to that, though. You were just trying to devise the least recklessly foolish escape plan possible.

The raiders had holed up in an old supermarket, which seemed to be their usual base. Most of the empty, broken shelves had been pushed against the walls to make space for whatever furniture they had managed to find. A few shelves surrounded the space like a makeshift barrier, shielding the rest of the building from view.

Rations, old clothes and other miscellaneous objects were scattered about carelessly, but you didn’t notice many weapons, which was potentially a good sign. More valuable loot was stashed in empty freezers, and you were frankly surprised they hadn’t tried to shove you in one, too.

The raiders went back to watching the movie, your own voice sounding strange and faraway to your ears. And then… you heard Cooper’s voice, that southern drawl bringing your attention to the screen. It was the scene of his Feo, Fuerte y Formal speech, when his enemy was at his feet.

Though the screen was riddled with static, you could still see the determined look on his face. Hearing his voice again gave you strength, but it also gave you pause. Why did it feel like it hadn’t been that long since you’d last heard it?

You thought back to the day you’d been abducted, still unsure if you had hallucinated the ghoul screaming your name. Even his voice had sounded different there, but not unfamiliar – more like a dream that had slowly devolved into a nightmare.

 There was a nagging feeling at the back of your head that wouldn’t let you rest until you had some answers, but it would all have to wait for a later time. 

For the next hour or so, you slowly moved your wrists back and forth in an attempt to loosen the ropes. You went still whenever any of them looked at you – like a deer in headlights, sweat trickling down your spine – but luckily, none of them seemed aware of your actions.

At some point, you had to fully stop as most of them prepared to go out scavenging, leaving only one man behind to guard you.

“Shouldn’t give you much trouble, but you know what to do if she does,” the leader had said, looking right at you with a shit-eating grin. 

But the raider left in charge hadn’t seemed too worried about you being a threat, falling asleep on one of the couches soon after they had left. When your wrists were rubbed raw and bloody by the rope, you soldiered through the pain until adrenaline kicked in, and you managed to loosen the knots enough to free one of your hands.

You swallowed down the nausea that crawled up your throat at the sight of your mangled skin. Keeping one eye on the sleeping raider, you began to attempt untying your ankles, but then you heard a crash at the front of the building. The raider woke up with a start and you had a millisecond to hide your hands behind your back once more. 

“What the fuck was that?” he muttered, looking around frenziedly.

You shrugged helplessly, your heart nearly leaping out of your chest. He narrowed his eyes in suspicion as he stood, grabbing a weapon. You whimpered, momentarily fearing he might use it to prod you further, but he stayed put.

“You better not try any stupid shit, alright?” He said, pointing it at you in warning. 

You nodded quickly and he crept around a shelf, disappearing from view. It was eerily silent after that, except for your blood thundering in your ears. You waited for him to return, unmoving, for what seemed like an eternity. 

There were a few more sounds somewhere out front, but you couldn’t quite discern what they were. Still, you didn’t really want to wait around and find out. Who knew if you’d get another opportunity like this?

But just as you decided to push your luck and reached for your ankles, you heard footsteps. And with those footsteps, there was the familiar, faint clinking of spurs that you had come to know.

The ghoul suddenly rounded the corner, holding the raider’s bloodied machete, which matched the blood spattering his clothes. Talk about a guardian angel, you thought, somehow finding humor to keep yourself from absolute hysteria – even as your eyes welled with overwhelmed tears. A muffled sound escaped your throat, but there was still tape covering your mouth, so all you could do was widen your eyes.

“There y’are,” he said with what seemed to be a relieved grin, but it was short-lived. “Oughta kill you myself for makin’ me go through all that trouble to find you…”

He crouched in front of you to free you from your binds, tossing the weapon aside. You gasped as he ripped the tape from your face, momentarily glaring at him for his lack of gentleness. But your own relief outweighed any frustration you felt, and without thinking you threw yourself at him, your arms wrapping around his neck. 

He froze, feeling the jackrabbit pace of your heart against his chest. The breathed-out thank you in his ear almost gave him goosebumps, but he kept himself composed. You yourself couldn’t believe that you were so elated to see him, having been terrified of him only a week prior.

But now it didn’t seem to matter, because even if he groused about having to do the work, he had still come to find you. 

“Alright, alright, that’s enough of that,” he said, shoving you back. “Get up, we gotta get outta here before the rest of ‘em come back.”

He hauled you onto your feet, steadying you when you almost stumbled into him. You glanced at the TV, where the movie had been paused on a close-up shot of Cooper.

You hesitated, suddenly transfixed by an emotion that was getting close to realization. The ghoul followed your line of sight and grimaced, averting his gaze. 

“You feel it too, don’t you?” You said, the words spilling before you’d even thought them through. “How ironically familiar it all is, in a fucked up way.”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. When you looked over at him, something ill-concealed in his expression confirmed things without him having to say anything.

His eyes hadn’t changed… how did you not see it before?

You took a step closer and that seemed to snap him out of it.

“No idea what you’re goin on’ about,” he gruffed, turning away. “Now get movin’ or I’ll tie you to my belt and herd you like cattle. Andale!”

You pursed your lips at his stubbornness but trailed after him. You watched his back, hunting for more details to further reassure yourself you weren’t crazy — His posture, the way he walked, his strong shoulders squared proudly, as if in preparation for whatever came.

There was still so much to say, but first, you had to get as far away from this serpent’s nest as possible. 

On the way, he found an old tire iron, tested its heft, and then handed it to you. At least, it seemed less daunting than a knife or a machete, and arguably less bloody. The world might be a cruel place, but he would try to help minimize the blow as much as he could. In his own way, of course.

 He pushed out of the secret entrance at the side of the building, and you almost slammed into his back as he abruptly stopped. 

“Well, fancy seeing you here boys,” he said before you could even ask what was wrong, and a stone seemed to drop into your stomach. “Jus’ came to collect what’s rightfully mine. We’ll be on our way now.”

“Like hell you are,” came the barked reply.

You peered around him and saw only a handful of the raiders, the leader nowhere in sight. Somehow, that made you relax a little, the odds slightly more favorable. Not that you didn’t believe the ghoul could handle the whole group, but you just didn’t want to take your chances.

“Oh, yeah? And who’s gonna stop me? You?” The ghoul drew his revolver before anyone else could react, firing a shot directly at the raider’s head. “Whoops, I guess it ain’t gonna be him, after all.”

A stunned moment passed before the raiders were all launching themselves at him. You pressed back against the wall, watching how the ghoul moved with a swift, deadly grace. Two were down before they even knew what was happening. 

You moved from your spot to try to find some cover in case any stray bullets flew by you. Crouching by some rusted oil barrels, you kept your eyes on the action, listening to the ghoul laughing at a failed attack.

Then you noticed movement elsewhere. While he was facing off another three of them, a raider that had broken off from the rest was slowly inching closer behind the ghoul’s back.

Yelling out a warning would probably hinder more than help him, so you took a deep, fortifying breath and crept behind the raider. You tried to keep control of your breathing as you got closer, taking deliberate steps. You adjusted your grip on your weapon a few times, your palms sweating like never before.

But just as you closed the distance between you and raised the tire iron over your head, one of the other raiders yelled Watch out!

Still, you swung, striking him right across the temple with a sickening crack. He crumpled, knocked out cold, and everything moved quickly after that.

 In all the distraction, the ghoul dove forward and sank his knife into the nearest raider’s stomach. Then he turned them both around, using him as a shield before he shot the other two raiders.

Once they were all on the ground, he looked at you over his shoulder and grinned. 

“Well, well, look at you watchin’ my back for me,” he said, seemingly impressed. “Doesn’t make us quite even, but getting closer.”

You let out a breathy laugh, but your mouth suddenly filled with saliva, and you had to keep yourself from throwing up. All of the day’s events were starting to catch up to you, and adrenaline could only keep you on your feet for so long.

“Can we just uh… please?” You said, gesturing into the distance vaguely. “If I don’t eat something soon, I think I’m gonna pass out.”

He sighed, jerking his head to one side in a motion for you to follow. “Better hope there’s still rations in your pack, then, ‘cus I ain’t a free meal ticket.”

———————————————-

You slept for what felt like days, waking up disoriented to find the afternoon sun high in the sky. You rolled onto your back, wiping away the drool that had trickled out of the corner of your mouth. You were sure you looked just as terrible as you felt, but it was the least of your worries at that moment.

The abandoned parking structure you’d camped out at was cool and shaded, the wind blowing through it. It’d been dark by the time the two of you had found it, and you could only remember wolfing down some food before promptly passing out. 

Your wrists had been bandaged at some point, a small courtesy from the ghoul. Proof once again that he cared, despite his tough, biting exterior. The warmth you felt in your chest reminded you of what was still pending between you, and how it could wait no longer. 

You sat up and looked around, gathering your bearings. He wasn’t too far away, standing at the other end of the lot with his back to you. He was looking off into the distance, lost in thought. 

You watched him for a moment, wondering what was going through his mind. Wondering if maybe, just maybe, your thoughts were running parallel. 

Only one way to find out.

You got up, wincing at the deep ache in your muscles. You started to shamble over to him, but you only reached halfway before you were no longer brave enough to get any closer. 

“Cooper,” you called, voice tremulous. “… It is you, isn’t it?”

The ghoul turned around slowly, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest. He was quiet for a moment, for once seemingly afraid to meet your gaze.

“Still stubborn as a mule, aren’t’cha?” he said, trying to mask the nostalgia in his voice with wry humor. 

You let out an amused huff. “Always drove the producers crazy.”

“Well, it wasn’t just them.”

Finally, he looked up at you, his gaze much softer than they’d been the past few days. At that moment – despite the ravages of time, radiation, and even misery – you could still see the Cooper you had always known. And while you were elated by the revelation, your heart also hurt to think he had undergone so much by himself, losing who he was in the process. 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You asked, knowing it was likely a selfish question. “From the beginning?”

“I never… thought you would see me like this,” he said, swallowing hard. “After that night, when the bombs were dropped, I didn’t know what happened to you. I just assumed you were…”

“Dead,” you finished for him. “I thought the same about you.”

Silence hung heavily for a moment, and you weren’t sure if you should move or not. 

“What about your family?” You asked, bracing for the worst.

“Lost,” he said simply, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “I got Janey to one of the vault’s on time, but there was no space left for me.”

His pain was palpable, making your heart shatter anew. But how to take it away from him? It was impossible to just erase all that had happened, but you could at least help him shoulder the burden.

“Cooper…” you breathed, finally closing the remaining distance between you.

He shifted uncomfortably, angling his head away. You reached up to gently cup his face, making him look at you.

“A face not even a mother could love, ain’t it?” He murmured, braced for whatever reaction you’d have to him now. 

He expected disgust and rejection, but that was far from what you felt then – A yearning so deep you feared it would fully consume you. The world had fucking ended already, so why not confess how you felt? Nothing worse could happen if you did. 

“My feelings for you have remained intact for more than two hundred years, Cooper. You really think this is going to change my mind?”

He blinked in surprise, his eyes searching your face for any sign that you were lying. You merely smiled, open and earnest, letting him digest your words.

“That night, when you kissed me… My mind was all over the place. I didn’t know what to think, what to say, but you ran away before I could even try.” He chuckled weakly at the memory. “Somehow, I felt it was a long time comin’, but a part of me never thought it was possible.”

“I’m sorry it was all I could give you then,” you whispered, and he placed a hand over one of yours. “If only we had known…”

“Say the words for me, will you?” He rasped, face inching closer to yours. “I won’t believe it until you say it.”

You didn’t hesitate. “I love you, Cooper Howard. I loved you before, and I love you now, just as you are.” 

“You sure about that?” He said, but his resolve was crumbling.  “Not much room for love in places like this, especially with folks like me.”

“We’ll just have to make room for it then.”

He raised his hairless eyebrows, both pleased and amused at your conviction.“Just like that, hmm?” 

One of his arms snaked around your waist slowly, pressing you closer to him. Your eyes dropped to his mouth, desirous. The fire he saw in them ignited him as well — A long lost feeling that was returning to the surface with a vengeance.

“Bésame,” you sighed, mere seconds before his lips were melding against yours. 

You kissed with an almost frantic desperation, tightly clinging onto each other. It was the kind of kiss you had always dreamt of — devouring and insatiable, eager to fuse together.

His hands were curious but hesitant, roaming up to your ribcage and down to your hips, but no further. You grabbed one of his hands and placed it on your chest, not only as permission, but also so he could feel how your heart pounded for him. 

His own longing overflowed, clouding his senses. A part of him had still been unwilling to believe you could actually love — much less tolerate — what he had become. But when you moaned softly into his mouth, he knew he was a lost cause.

Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t very good with words that weren’t scripted. But fortunately for you, there were other ways he could demonstrate his devotion.

You arched into his touch as he palmed one of your breasts, a low sound in his throat. He moved to kiss your neck, lavishing your collarbone with his tongue. He wanted to kiss you all over, but he would need to get you bare first. 

You let him tug your blouse over your head, his gloves subsequently coming off. His hands were calloused as they returned to touch your skin. The tips of his fingers teased the waistband of your pants, and he smirked as you frowned up at him. 

“What? I wanna enjoy every moment of this,” he drawled, eyes dipping lower to watch your chest heave. “So many times I tried to imagine how I would do this. Sometimes I would unwrap you like a present… Others, well, let’s jus’ say I was like a coyote getting ahold of a chicken.”

You couldn’t help but laugh at the morbid description, strangely not put off by it. “How romantic. I’m still trying to decide how I’ll take yours off.”

He shifted, something like panic flashing in his eyes for the briefest second. “Hold your horses, sweetheart. I ain’t done with you yet.”

You understood his hesitance immediately, deciding not to push it for the time being. You had years of patience under your belt, and his trust was something you did not mind earning again. He removed only his duster, draping it on the floor. 

He undid your belt and knelt in front of you as you wiggled your hips to help him take your pants off. There was a puff of warm breath against your navel a second before he planted a kiss on it. You shuddered as his teeth snagged the hem of your panties, pulling them down.

There was a noticeable wet spot on the fabric, which made him groan. His cock was straining against his pants already, but he wanted to focus on you first. 

“Come here, you,” he rasped, grasping your hips and bringing you down with him. 

As soon as you were on your back, his mouth was on you again. He’d wanted to feast his eyes first, to take you in in your full glory, but he found he couldn’t keep himself detached from you for too long. 

He kept his promise, slowly working his way around. You surrendered to his adoration with ease, every caress and every kiss awakening every part of you. At some point, you reached a level of sensitivity that had you whimpering at the slightest touch. The light sting of his teeth on your nipples sent electricity straight to your core. 

He lost himself in your smell and your warmth and your softness – a supplicant finally worshiping at his sacred temple. When his mouth finally sealed over your clit, your back arched off the floor, taut as a bow. 

“Cooper,” you gasped, delirious with lust. “Please, I-I need… Let me touch you, something, please!”

He shushed you gently, arms wrapping around your legs. “Just lie back and let me take care of you, darlin’.”

You wished you could say you lasted some time under his ministrations, but you came with embarrassing ease. That first orgasm hit you like an avalanche, sweeping throughout your whole body. You clapped a hand over your mouth as you cried out, not wanting to be too loud and potentially attract unwanted attention. 

He let out a faint chuckle, lapping up your release with gusto and nearly making you come a second time. He found he especially liked teasing your clit with quick little flicks of his tongue, your moans higher pitched. You tried squirming away from him, nearing overstimulation.

“You’re killing me, Coop!” You couldn’t help but giggle hysterically, pushing at his head. “Por favor!”

He pulled back, grinning roguishly as he licked his glistening lips. “What can I say? Seems I can’t get enough of you.”

“Then take me already,” you pleaded. “I can’t wait any longer.”

He needed no further convincing. He unhooked his arms from your legs and his body slid upwards until your faces were level. He was quick to undo his pants and push them down, bending down to kiss you as he took his cock in one hand, stroking it. 

You brought your knees up to his sides as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Slowly, he pushed inside of you, leaning his forehead against yours so he could see your reactions. Brows furrowed, mouth slack, cheeks flushed – you were the prettiest picture, in his eyes. 

“That’s it,” he exhaled as he buried himself to the hilt. “Takin’ me so good, like you were made just for me.”

“You’ve a-already made it clear th-that I’m yours,”  you said with a teasing little smile that you could barely hold as he started to move. 

He remembered his words to the raiders, letting out a breathy chuckle. “I did say somethin’ like that, didn’t I? Guess it must be true, then.”

His strokes were long and slow at first, letting you feel every inch as he stretched you. His eyes were fixed on your face, drinking in your features and reassuring himself that it was not a dream. He knew he wouldn’t last too long either, for all he teased you about it.

He started going faster, the snap of his hips harsher, as you begged for it. Pleasure was overtaking him, wiping his mind clear of everything that wasn’t the present moment. Your name left his lips like a prayer, his eyes heavy lidded and glazed over with ecstasy. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he moaned. “I-I love you. Fuck, I love you.”

You clung to him, afraid that if your heart went any faster, it might stop altogether. Soon enough, he felt you tightly squeezing around him, and he knew you were close once again. He was right there with you, driven by your pleasure, and then you pulled him in for a kiss. 

He felt you tremble under him as you came, the intensity not letting you make more than a small, choked sound. With a long, rough groan and a deep thrust, he spilled inside of you. Lost in a feverish oblivion, having forgotten when the last time he’d experienced it was… if at all. No drop was wasted, in the end.

During the comedown, you lay there panting, his added weight on top of you comforting. You looked at each other and laughed, elated at the whole thing. It felt like no time had passed at all, somehow. 

“Tryin’ to steal my soul already,” he said, a fondness in his voice that made your stomach flutter. “Hold on, I need to get some RadAway in ya.”

Breathing heavily, he slowly pulled out of you and got to his knees. He tucked himself away and reached for his pack. He pulled out a yellow IV bag, which you recognized from Bud’s few lessons about the wasteland. You hadn’t even thought about it until then, but you were immensely grateful he had been prepared. 

He hooked you onto it delicately and slumped back down beside you, lying sideways. You grinned, snuggling closer to him. His fingers traced lazy circles on your belly as he looked down at you, adoring. 

The real world slowly crept into the edges of your mind, anxiety at being separated from him suddenly spiking. Now that you had him, there was no way you would just let him go. 

“I don’t know what I should do now,” you confessed, voice low. “I know I want you, and I want to be with you, but what about New Vegas? Do you think they’d send someone to look for me?”

He thought about it for a moment. “Maybe. It’s very possible, you never know. You’re more valuable than you realize, and I ain’t just sayin’ that ‘cus I’m biased.”

You snorted, shoving him playfully, but he continued. “But… I think I should still take you there. My sort of lifestyle in the wasteland ain’t for you, darlin’. I almost lost you once already, very stupidly.”

“That was my fault, though,” you said, pained at the guilt in his voice for not being able to protect you.

“Everybody makes mistakes. You could make a hundred more, but one of ‘em might just cost you everythin’. I ain’t takin’ those chances.”

“Well, you’re certainly more forgiving now…” you muttered, rolling your eyes. “But then what? You’re not just gonna drop me off at twenty one for safe keeping, are you? I would kill you.”

He laughed. “Oh, I don’t doubt it. But it won’t come to that, we ain’t stayin’ in the vault.”

“Oh? We aren’t?” 

“There’s a few settlements out there that are safe and, uh, friendly to my kind.” He cleared his throat, not wanting to bring much attention to his current state of being. You took his hand, squeezing his fingers, and he returned the gesture.

One day, you would make sure he would never doubt his worth ever again. You admired his strength and perseverance, soldiering through an unforgiving environment, continuing to live. He was certainly different from the hero that he always played in the movies, but he was a hero nonetheless. In your eyes, at least.

“Well, well… That’s all it took to bring you to your knees, huh?” You teased, raising an eyebrow. “You really thinking of settling down?”

“Oh, I ain’t retirin’, sweetheart,” he said with a huff. “But if you’re askin’ if I’m thinking of going steady with you, well…”

The two of you shared a knowing look, smiling at that echo from the past. At that moment, you felt that things might just be okay after all. You had been through worse things, jumped through bigger hurdles, and yet you had still arrived there. Who was to say you couldn’t handle more?

“Kiss me then, and let’s seal the deal.”

------------

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

sorry to message but i just wanted to yell because I saw a post and yOU’RE THE AUTHOR OF FALLOUT FROM THE FADE ???? oh my goodness it’s my favourite fic ive read it SO many times.

i left a comment on ao3 last night because i finished reading it again and i just genuinely hope one day you finish it (i understand you have much going on i am just greedy).

but yes thank you so much for creating it, fenris and hawke are everything to me and this fic is my canon no matter what happens in veilguard. 💜

hahaha HELLO yes that is indeed I... I guess i do owe a little bit of an explanation here since its been uh... like 4 years since I last updated, yeah :| But it still makes me so happy that even after so long people still enjoy my little pile of suffering and yearning!

I don't know how many people who used to follow it are still on tumblr (I think a lot of people i used to write with/who would comment have deleted their tumblrs and AO3 accounts in the intervening years alas) but i do I owe anyone remaining a little context I guess lol. Long story made short is like very shortly after my last update i got broken up with unexpectedly from my 4 year relationship, and went into a bit of a spiral about it. I didn't fully stop writing at this point (though I think nothing I wrote in that like... year or more ended up posted anywhere), but I did realize that when I went to work on my ongoing stuff I was in a place where I was like... only wanting to write about anger/losing relationships rather than healing ones. And that part of me wanted to change some of the things I had planned for the following parts and ending of Fallout From the Fade. And so I decided to take a step back from it for a while to see if I actually wanted to make those changes when I was less bitter or if I wanted to follow my original plan.

And that took me about a year, emotionally. However by then I had actually left my prior job (where I spent a lot of time hiking/camping in the wilderness of Utah with no internet, and I used that time for writing), and started graduate school courses. Aaaannnd grad school has been slowly eating my life since. I've only posted I think one other fanfic since then, and it was a very short prose-poem one shot. Another contributing factor was my gaming tech was too old to actually play Trespasser when it came out, and by the time I got a laptop that could handle it, I had to replay the whole game but I was working full time, etc... and i felt really disconnected from the DA fandom since I couldn't read all the new fic/understand all the lore deep dive posts/experience it with everyone else simultaneously. Oh yeah and I work a second job as a professional mermaid in varying degrees of intensity depending on the season/oportunties available haha.

All that being said. I actually have written more of FFtF in the last 2 years. But like I said in the other post I made kinda recently, the long gaps between my later updates (vs the ones I was doing way more regularly in 2016-2018) had me rethink the approach I was using to write and post it, which was a chapter at a time. It felt like stringing people along in kind of a mean way to dump a chapter and then vanish for another year, and I knew I couldn't promise consistency while doing a masters/PhD program. So I've been kind of fiddling away at it slowly still, both actual writing of following chapters, and some substantial firming up/drafting sections in my outline to get to the eventual ending and ensure it's more cohesive than a lot of my slapdash chapters. But! Idk! I do also def work slower without the fun of having an audience, and miss that. and I never actually asked of the people who are left and still wanna read more of it, if they'd rather just get a chapter every 6 months or so as I scrounge it out. If you are one of those people and have an opinion def let me know.

I will say, the imminent presence of Veilguard does have me more inspired and creative again, and some of that has been going to Fallout. Especially since I'm no longer watching the videos/gameplay bioware is putting out since they have SOOO many spoilers and I wanna go into the game at least semi blind, so my creative energy has to go towards my personal stuff rather than joining everyone else in speculation and hype now. I'm definitely not promising I will have it close to finished by October when Veilguard releases, because I'm still in grad school and the next months are busy for me in terms of mermaid work too, but I am hoping I can make some good chunks of progress between now and then. But then if I say that and can't follow through after all I also don't wanna let people down.

Anyway yeah, it's sort of a lot of conflicting thoughts. But I'm still rotating Hawke and Fenris and this fic in my mind even these years later... which for me is honestly pretty normal. I mean I have whole original novels/worldbuilding ideas/etc that I've worked on for 10-15 years in my own time haha, I've been writing fiction for fun since I was like 10, so I think I also just think of stories/writing across a bigger timeline than people who start writing with fanfiction (which is MUCH faster paced) than original fiction. The difference of course is no one sees my original stuff so there's no one to care if i take 2 years between chunks of progress. SO I guess what I am trying to say is, yes definitely it is not abandoned, I am plodding away at it bit by bit, I also hope I can finish it one day!!!! that is within this decade i hope! whether or not anyone else is left to read it but me haha

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

I vibe with hyperfixating w/ characters. To varying degrees I’ve fixated on: Armin from AOT for a while, 1D had a DEATH GRIP on me for a few years, (SEVEAL book characters through my teen years)I had an Alucard from castlevania fixation for maybe 3 ish years (‘ending’ only recently) and now Hobes lives in my head rent free ngl.

I get the “being sad cuz you can’t meet them” part, I’ve felt it. I try to not daydream TOO much cuz otherwise it takes over my life and I’m doing a considerable effort to live OUT of my own head, but BOI do I LOVE just daydreaming about my blorbos of choice.

I don’t speak too much about it (mostly the daydreaming) cuz to an extent it feels like a “me thing” (like something I don’t wanna share with anyone cuz it’s special to me), but if given the chance I DO info dump on my fixations.

I don’t think it’s cringe, not at all. These things are stuff that helps us process the world and our experiences with it. I believe everyone has sensitive weird shit that they don’t talk about, but if there’s something Ive learned is that we hardly ever have completely unique experiences. Most people just hide their oddness. Fandom being a prime example of how much our blorbos can mean to us. I think it’s okay and normal. (Until it goes overboard and people send idk violent messages to others because they headcanon something differently idk, the unreasonable stuff imo)

Can’t believe our of everything people would dare to make JOY and INTEREST the things with negative connotations. Being mean should be cringe, being a bully should be embarrassing. But unashamedly enjoying stuff?? That’s wonderful.

Anyone too embarrassed of their own vulnerability that they deal with it by making others feel bad about their interests are the most immature out if all of us.

Joy is everything that’s good with the world.

Even just seeing the letter 1D makes me wanna scream (in a good way!!) cause it takes me back to high school lol 1D was a bit older than me so my grade had Mindless Behaviour (does anyone remember them, where they even popular) but I remember the days where 1D was like the definition of summer songs

And I can totally understand the 'me thing'. Like I never really spoke about it but I felt like I knew my daydreams were more substantial or vivid than the 'average person' so to say.

Or when I spoke about characters to other people, I understood that neurotypicals likes characters, but they often didn't see them as fully formed 'persons' in the way I do - as to say, they didn't speculate or see emotional backstory, connections, or their behavior the way I did.

I never really shared any of my daydreams because like - I can't even get into it that's like asking someone to explain Star Wars to someone who doesn't even know space travel exists.

I grew up in a time on the internet where self-inserts and OC were seen as cringe, and someone would be very quick to call out 'Mary-Sue's (or flawless OCs) whenever they could.

It's not like that now - but in juxtaposition to canon x canon shipping, that bias is still there I feel like. Like it, as a work of fandom art has less 'value' that art or fics of canon only characters

It kinda bums me out still.

I think OC and daydreams and self-indulgent inserts are all the best part of fandom because it's the purest way of fans connecting with content on a personal level.

I'm happy that I see more people pushing back on that lately. Like after years of seeing people viciously hate furries when most of them seem like very nice, fun people, it's refreshing for people to be like 'nah, actually this thing is cool. and im gonna spend of time and/or money on this thing cause i makes me happy;

like you remember when the new Star Wars movie trailers came out and that dude reacted to it and he was moved to tears and people made fun of him??

yeah fuck everyone else that dude knows whats up.

Like yes, openly cry to your faves. Fantasize deep meaningful daydreams that help you process your feelings. Draw your OC with them, or learn every single thing their is to know about them.

That's why I wanted to talk about this. Because I've never heard it spoken about before. Maladaptive daydreaming, yes - and that can be harmful. But I hardly ever hear people talk about the basic mundane experience of it - or even how it can enrich our lives and help us emotionally develop of neurodivergent people.

When I think of it that way, it's something that makes me happy. I don't think I'll ever be able to describe it fully, and that's the point. Our stories are private to us, not because theyre embarrassing, but because they're so us that to even describe it would like describing a new world top to bottom

I love it. It's what makes humans humans.

[venacoeurva]

Love Wren! 3 and 12 for the couple ask game, if it’s still going on :]

3. What's their favorite thing to tease each other about?

Oh, they tease and make dry jabs at each other all the time lol. It's practically another love language for them. The easiest one is Wren’s height, which Teldryn loves to point out, but he also finds it pretty endearing which is also why he points it out a lot. Wren, meanwhile, enjoys teasing him about him sounding like a cantankerous old man a lot of the time, which the fact that Wren has about a decade on him makes that funnier to him.

Wren also likes to take Nerevarine jokes from himself and will just stop and pull out a map and start talking about where they need to go whenever Teldryn says his “Nerevar guide me” line in battle and he thinks he’s hilarious for it. Seriously, they can keep escalating jabs and you'd think they were bitter exes if you don't know them but they find mutual entertainment in it like a sport. Miraak is. very confused at first.

12. What struggle have they seen each other through?

So far I don't think either of them have really had any current (201ish +) substantial personal or highly involved external issues or struggles while a thing, aside from Wren amputating his own damn leg, which required downtime and adjustment as well as some help getting around the house and Teldryn's cough, which I imagine is worse some days than others and some days he couldn't do much and I can see him getting really frustrated about that. Of course, the civil war is happening but they stay out of that mess as much as possible. Miraak could have been a problem but Wren managed to get him to behave and stop posturing (via a punch with his lipstick on his knuckles and paralyzing him on the floor for an hour, which earned his respect somehow)

They did have some interpersonal issues, more so on Wren's end, like Wren explaining he's the Nerevarine and all the baggage with it, and it took about a solid year and a half of knowing him for Wren to even attempt to bring it up organically. Wren is also a bit lost on the process of ancestor worship since he basically never had access, never learned how (it felt very much looking in from the outside with cultural rituals while in vvardenfell) and doesn't even know who they are on any side or where they came from other than Vvardenfell (the orphanage caretakers had that information and everything else got lost other than a fragment (and misinterpretation) of information about Uthryn--someone familiar with them but wanting to avoid getting killed too referred to Wren as the son of Uthryn thus why he was called Wren/Ren/Rin as a game of very confused telephone watering down the info until they just settled on Wren).

That being said, I think Teldryn was happy to explain it to him judging by how much he just likes talking about what Dunmer do, but it had to operate as more of being an example with his own ancestors since Wren, y'know, doesn't know his own and can only do so much regarding his own--feels like an empty appeal for them to make themselves known so he can even actually START, y'know? His parents just kind of showed up one day because they finally realized they're dead. That was probably in about 4e 206ish, so a while after the effort started. A lot of information is still lost because family graves are now destroyed and even they don’t know who some of their ancestors were. Vavani showing up and being there is semi canon, but he hadn’t been keeping track of his descendants for like a solid few centuries.

I can't see Teldryn hanging onto some past issues he may have had, a very "well that happened, okay then let's keep movin'" person for the most part and doesn't want to talk about most of them as he sees them as not very significant unless someone else is going through something similar.

[a-simple-spiders-oc-dump]

hi!!! so. it's been. a bit, lmao.

in the time since I last posted here, I got a new job, and I've been trying to figure out how to be creative when I no longer have a creative job, because I've felt a little aimless ever since taking up office work. issue is, I don't really have the energy atm for any big grandiose projects, and when I try to work on one, I just end up getting discouraged with myself. that's no fucking good, obviously!!! so, I'm back!! not sure for how long, but I'm gonna do it until I can get back to writing consistently again, at least.

speaking of writing!!! Universe 1's canon is different now lol. it started out as an experiment/AU of my own work, but I liked the concept so much I've restructured the whole story. the characters are largely the same!! biggest differences are:

Sinclair has been promoted to Protagonist #2, removing their original ties to Mikayla and putting a heavier focus on their backstory rather than That Whole Mess. this is largely because there was just WAY too much going on in the plot for a single protagonist to reasonably handle without snapping like a twig, so I guess you could consider this a balancing change, lmao

Mentors have been split between the two protags (because GEE LYDIA, HOW COME MOM LET YOU HAVE THREE MENTORS? lmao) - Cynthia for Lydia, Gamma for Sinclair, and Dylan for both because mentoring is basically his thing

Dawn (a character I don't even think made it into the character roster because I had barely fleshed her out at all before) has a lot more importance to the overall plot

I've also made some verrrrrrrry minor tweaks to the other characters, but nothing so substantial that their bios need to change or anything, it's more tweaks in the way I write them since I found I was writing a lot of them a little too similarly and wasn't putting enough focus on their unique quirks.

with those patch notes out of the way, I'm gonna start updating the info page for Universe 1 AND finally get Universe 2's shit worked out!! tho I think I might work on an oc-tober thing instead for this month, so don't expect those info pages to be done right away, lol. still not sure!! we ARE almost five days into October already, after all!! but no matter what, new shit's gonna be happening here.

so, yeah! update over! hope y'all enjoy the stuff I'm cooking up!!

[primalspice]

Faust - 💭 , 💍, 🩹, 💯, 🔺, 🌈, 🍃, 💔, 💚, 🥪, ☕️, 😊, 😞

💗

💭 — what is your oc's MBTI, enneagram, and/or other personality aspects (if known/interested in)?

He's an ENTJ and im not super well-versed in enneagram but i think either 3w2 or 3w4, leaning towards the prior. I hate him for his politician swag.

💍 — does your oc have any piercings? do they want any (more) piercings?

He doesn't have any piercings or necessarily want any but i think some fun earrings would spice up his look.

🩹 — does your oc have any physical and/or mental disabilities?

He's quite normal apart from his Leukemia Affliction that he refuses to get cured. hes not really Tumorous (YET) so much as... severely immunocompromised. He also gets migraines semi frequently but not enough to be chronic. The pink glasses are for a reason he fucking prommies

💯 — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know.

He's had way too many jobs in his funny little life. I think the family restaurant is canon and he worked there waiting tables. I think he's worked in Sales several different times to account for his outgoing persuasive Nature. I think he's had a stint of trying to be a local politician in his suburb of canada that never worked out.

He only really started the always-wearing-pink thing in the past 5 years or so. It's his favorite color but he also just thinks it makes him memorable. And he's so right <3

Legit prog rock fan and probably fr the person responsible for introducing it to region zero before anyone else. I don't know if that actually fits into my timeline music-era-wise but this is an alt universe anyway. I think in addition to his funny little jobs listed above he shouldve also tried being in a band LOL.

🔺 — does your oc know how to use any weapons?

He can shoot a gun. And he's been learning about weapons of mass destruction for no particular reason <3

🌈 — what is your oc's sexual orientation/gender identity? what pronouns do they use?

Metrosexual he/him fr. hes heteroflexible.

🍃 — what is/was your oc's favorite subject in school?

Definitely an english/public speaking class guy. He's far from math-y or science-y. Second choice would probably be history or sociology.

💔 — what are three of your oc's negative traits?

He is WRATHFUL and MANIPULATIVE and STUBBORN

💚 — does your oc prefer being inside or outside?

He prefers being inside, he's prissy about temperature and too much sun and such (even before he became ill)

🥪 — what does your oc's typical lunch look like? do they usually eat lunch?

I think hes more of a brunch guy when he actually has an appetite (not very frequently). Everyone wants him to eat anyway tho so. Eggs and Toast and Oatmeal kinda guy.

☕️ — does your oc prefer coffee, tea, hot chocolate, milk, water, or some other drink? how do they like to take this drink (ex. coffee with milk, hot chocolate with whipped cream, a specific kind of tea, etc)?

He's a coffee guy if he's making it himself, but would take pretty much anything offered to him out of Kindness. His coffee is pretty standard, just a little cream and/or sugar in it. He makes fancy stuff (secret canadian coffee press methods???) to be impressive but he doesn't actually care about the quality himself and is more in it for the caffeine. He canonically has a custom region zero mug.

😊 — what are your oc's career/general life desires? what do they want to get the most out of life?

it's Complicated. I think he's always wanted to be 'successful' but has had very little direction until recently and his cause is.....less than noble to pretty much everyone but himself LOL. He's always played the part, even before moving to region zero, but never really felt he'd done anything substantial enough just being his divorced, job hopping self. needless to say, hes very happy now that he's a politician and a well-known name to people who know not much else about the world LOL. i think ultimately he just wants to make a difference in the world and have his name be on it. he wants to be remembered.

😞 — does your oc attract others, or do they tend to be left alone?

He attracts others quite easily as long as they can bare his Extrovertedness. he really is quite charismatic and easy to get along with and hes very good at making people feel welcome/important around him. its only SOMEWHAT a facade, but he really is just friendly and unafraid of being the first to socialize.

[liltaz-asatreat]

for the title thing: "why Tuesdays are worse than Mondays" 👀 -ise

Send me a fake title for a fic, and I'll talk about what I would write for it!

(Also, tagging you, Ise, so that you can get the notification for it lol @barry-j-blupjeans )

I think this would actually be an amnesty fic! Shockingly lol

It would be from Ned's pov, and it opens with narration about how everyone says Mondays are the worst because it's the start of most people's work week or school, and you feel like you didn't have enough free time on the weekend, and you actually have to get important stuff done now that you couldn't get done on the weekend because whatever business or place was closed and appointments and blah blah blah, and then it goes into how he hates Tuesdays and thinks those are the worst because they are generally cursed for him. Nothing good ever happens on a Tuesday. Like when he was growing up, it felt like that was the day teachers would typically call on him in class when he didn't do an assignment/wasn't paying attention/didn't know the answer and everyone were jerks about it, and he felt like he was most likely to get in trouble for either some innocuous reason like not being in class on time or something actually substantial like he stole something, and he gets detention that day, and some of his parents' biggest fights happened on Tuesdays because his mom worked a day job Monday-Friday, and his dad worked nights Thursday-Monday, so the first time they get to see each other for an extended period of time during the week is Tuesdays after she gets off work, and they're able to air out their laundry with each other.

And then when he was an adult and living as a thief, most of his close calls were on Tuesdays or he found himself running out of money and options more often on Tuesdays, and when he lives in Kepler, it gets a little better for him because not much happens at the Cryptanomica, but Victoria dies on a Tuesday, and idk if this is canon but it's my head canon now, the night he got the eviction notice and then got attacked by the first abomination and was introduced to everything happened on a Tuesday.

So all of this background gets set up, and it explains the rule Ned's set for himself that he Does Not Go Out on Tuesdays. The only thing that happens is he opens the Cryptanomica, some people enter and look at the stuff because this is after Barclay goes viral, and then he closes up shop, and that's the end of that. He doesn't even let the film crew work on Tuesdays. But of course on This Particular Tuesday, Aubrey wants to hang out. And he says no, but then Aubrey says please? And he still says no, and then Aubrey's like :( And then Ned sighs and is like, fine.

So they leave the Cryptanomica after Ned closes up shop, and they pick up Duck, and they go to the movie theater to see Morbius a movie, idk what movie because I don't watch movies generally, but they go see A Movie lol And halfway through, when it gets to a particularly intense scene, the projector short circuits or something, and the screen goes dead, and the movie theater people can't get it working again. So they have to get their tickets refunded and leave, and Aubrey suggests they go get froyo.

So they go to the froyo shop, but the machines with the flavors Ned wants aren't working, so he gets a flavor that he tolerates.

Then when he's driving them down the road to drop everyone off back home, they almost get in a car accident, and Ned pulls over and has a panic attack, and Aubrey and Duck have to calm him down, and he calms down and tells them next time they want to hang out, please like, pick any other day. And Aubrey and Duck are kind of confused about that, and he just says Tuesdays are cursed and he doesn't want to talk about it right now, and they're just like, okay, but we're here for you man. And Ned appreciates that and Aubrey's like, next time they hang out on a Tuesday, they can just stay in and that way nothing bad will happen and maybe that will break the curse Ned seems to believe he has about Tuesdays, and Duck is like, idk maybe we should just let it be for now, and Ned's like yeah, this should be a conversation for another time, if at all ever. Then he drops them off and Duck makes him promise that he'll be safe getting home, and Aubrey wishes him a better night and better next Tuesday, and he gets home and realizes that while today sucked, he does at least have two friends that are safe and care about him.

[nephilimeq]

My dash is now filled with FrostHawk now... which is a ship I didn't know existed before lol. May I ask what is their appeal?? Because canon MCU is... not very substantial for them. Is this a comic books ship that has crossed over???

When I saw the first Avengers film, I immediately knew that Loki was not in control because his eyes were blue and it was obvious that he'd been tortured.

And I got fascinated by Hawkeye's character in that movie even more because even though he was under control of the mind stone, the mind stone doesn't enhance powers or anything, which means he was Loki's right hand man, and through his own planning, not Loki's, he nearly took out S.H.I.E.L.D. all on his own.

If you go into the comics about Hawkeye, you find out that he had an older brother that he looked up to who eventually betrayed him, so he went through hell trying to get away and reinvent himself.

Loki also has a brother who he personally felt betrayed him, and so he left and tried to recreate himself.

Not going to lie, I came across a piece of artwork for them first and thought that I liked the aesthetic, (this one ⬇️)

...and then decided to read some fanfiction as a joke. However, a ship that was meant to be a joke soon became something so much more because I found some amazing fanfiction that really dug into the psyche of each of these characters. They are more similar than you would think.

There's something pretty substantial if you think about the fact that there are whole gaps of time that we don't see where Hawkeye was at Loki's side, when he was underneath mind control. I also have to remind people that Loki was also underneath mind control at that point, as well, and so it makes you wonder what exactly the mind stone really does and exactly how much of it was actually Loki.

Interestingly enough, I think people draw on the fact that the individual actors who play them, Tom Hiddleston and Jeremy Renner, have played similar roles throughout their career. Renner at one point played a serial killer (Dahmer), and Hiddleston has played some pretty dark characters, as well (Crimson Peak)--and they both have played military characters, and so a lot of people draw on those acting histories of the actors to put in more aspects to the characters that they're playing, and it makes it incredibly interesting.

The characters of Hawkeye and Loki are also both very sarcastic, neither of them like authority, and both of these characters are very big on their independence.

I literally started shipping this as a joke, and then it became something so much more.

So, I guess there's your answer.

It's one of my most unconventional ships, but I like it.

[wednesdaysky]

Thoughts after finishing End of Dragons

Welp, a little later than everybody else, but with patience and rest I managed to get through GW2 End of Dragons. I was very fortunate that I accidentally walked into a Dragon's End map that was gearing up to do the meta already, lol. Some miscellaneous thoughts, both negative and positive, EoD spoilers…

I gotta say, I have a lot of gripes -- I don't know that I will go back to spend much time on these maps, I pretty much did only the story-required stuff because anytime I tried to go explore anything at all, every single map felt like the second coming of Tangled Depths which I still have an ongoing grudge against that map even in 2022 😂 Too many mobs all over the ground with very little escape, too easy to accidentally walk into events you can't get away from, super convoluted paths both on the ground and in the sky, just… hard to find anything at all, a horrible mess all around. It's a shame since they're very beautiful to look at, but I barely had any room to actually appreciate the scenery lol. Did y'all feel like this at all? Maybe some of you like Tangled Depths though but I've never comped that map even once 😂 I'm not sure I'll manage any of the EoD maps either 😂

I didn't think the story was overall that great, but I've resigned myself to Anet's writing being terrible since HoT when everything was already kind of a mess in vanilla and then they not only made it worse but killed my favorite character. As usual, this one was a huge pile of missed opportunities and plot/lore threads they set up and then didn't follow through on (honestly I play this game mainly for the setting at this point, so I've been perpetually salty ever since way back when there was a sylvari expansion where we learned almost nothing about the sylvari lol)

But even though Soo-Won came out of nowhere, and a lot of things felt to me just very abrupt and not well explained… I feel like they really sold it. Whoever's at the helm at this point took 10+ solid years of mashed together messy plots and lore elements, unfinished projects, different ideas of what the canon should be from who knows how many writers…and really tried to give us something to make sense of what came before. Something to make it worth being invested in the story of Tyria for all this time. I really appreciated getting to spend a lot of time with characters in this expac, the writing was trending in this direction more and more over the years but I think this is the most detailed they've ever gotten on that side of things, at least it seems like to me. The dialogue was pretty good for everybody, and I was happy that the commander continued to actually have a bit of a personality, even if it's mostly consisted of the poor guy getting increasingly tired and snarky and impatient after all the trauma and bullshit they've been through -- sorry Ath, lol. And there was so much worldbuilding and so much lore. There are lots of NPCs to talk to with substantial things to say, even more than in PoF. It felt like slightly making up for 2015 when I walked up to every single HoT NPC with a Talk (F) and most of them said nothing. 😂

I did find the Ankka part of the story pretty unsatisfying -- it may be just because I had to take significant play breaks for health stuff in between chapters, but her motivation for setting the apocalypse in motion always seemed really vague. I played through the whole story expecting to learn more about her but even though I searched out all the optional lore docs, voice recordings, etc., I never felt like she actually came together in a way where she made sense. It's a shame because the actress was amazing, and apparently Anet expected you to feel something for this character because she got some really cool cutscenes, but I just didn't at all because I never understood what she even wanted -- past or present -- to empathize with her at all. During her death cutscene I was just like…. 'really? Already? That's it??' Unfortunately I feel like Anet's greatest talent as writers is to introduce characters who would've been really cool if they weren't 1) horribly inconsistent, 2) horribly underused, or 3) killed off five seconds after you meet them lol.

But man, so many callbacks through the whole thing, all the way back to the Aetherblades who I really, really thought we would never see again, let alone get a cameo from Scarlet herself. We really revisited nearly everything the Commander has done over a decade of saving the world way too many times. And man, that ending. I am sure I probably enjoyed it more as someone who came late, and had the good luck to do the meta with a knowledgeable map sufficient to carry a first-timer casual with limited hand mobility, enabling me to proceed smoothly through the story. But having had that luck… damn.

The way it tied back into so many things we've done before, memories of characters we lost along the way -- getting a purple whisper of encouragement from Trahearne wrecked me. Going into the story instance afterward and staring up at the faces of the dragons, listening to their boss themes, recognizing some of their attacks. I found myself thinking back to the full decade of memories I've made with this game. I'm a pretty different person than I was in 2012. I've made friends, lost friends. Seen family pass away, seen niblings born. Done interesting work, visited interesting places. Learned things I never would have imagined, seen things happen in the world that I never would have imagined. Learned a lot about myself. And through all of that, on and off, always there for me when I wanted a fantastical playground to hang around in for a while, there was Tyria. It represents lots of beloved characters for me, both the canon ones and many roleplay OCs, my own and my friends' -- friends that I still talk to on the daily even now, friends that I haven't seen in years. I've commanded metas, I've played so many things from piano ele down to 1-button scourge. I've been in a bunch of guilds. I founded or helped found a couple. Did a lot of RPing, poured in so much creativity. To this day, even spending less time in the game, I still sit down periodically and think about what my characters would be up to by now, where their own smaller stories have gone by this time in Tyria's history. As uneven as it's been, as weird as it often is, this computer game has held an enduring place in my heart.

This was a good ending. It felt like a culmination of all of that. Coming together with Aurene, wielding her power as the last true dragon champion, the final height for the one who slayed a god. An army at our back, everyone who stood behind us for the last 10 real-life years rallying to lift us up. So many hands reaching out to pull us forward when we might stumble, from people we just met in Shing Jea right down to those who've been with us all the way back from Southsun. All the way back from getting trampled by centaurs in Shaemoor, waking up naked tumbling from a dreaming pod, making quips with the warband on the way to fight ghosts. And then, after the end of all that, seeing our closest friends from the oldest days finally able to relax a little for the first time in so long. Finally able to enjoy a little peace, to take time to breathe, to focus on the things right in front of them instead of dreading the end of the world always around the corner. It was a long, long time coming.

For someone who's been around from the beginning, End of Dragons really felt like a love letter to everything Guild Wars 2 has been about for the last decade -- the places these characters have been, the places the devs have been, the places we players have been. I'll keep playing, of course. But if I quit right now, if it were all to disappear tomorrow, this would be a worthy period to dot at the end of ten years of memories. It's not my single favorite part of the story; it's not even my favorite expansion. But I came away feeling I'd just experienced something truly special.

[spockandawe]

What are your favorite chinese webnovels? What are some of the differences youve noticed between cnovels and other types of novels?

That second question is really, REALLY interesting, and I really want to answer it well, and I am REALLY sure I’m going to do a bad job of answering it, so let me just noodle about that first question for a minute while I try to think XD

I went through some of my TOP-top favorite novels in more detail yesterday, but generally speaking, mxtx and meatbun are both at the top of the pack. They’re really good at writing compelling main characters and balancing piles of angst with plenty of humor and pulling everything together into a very satisfying ending (which is something I don’t alwaysssss see, even in some of the novels I really like). After them, The Disabled Tyrant’s Pet Palm Fish (transmigration, ancient chinese prince falls in love with pet fish) and Golden Stage (ancient chinese gay arranged marriage between bitter enemies(?)) are two novels that I love a lot, which both have very cute romances and go a bit lighter on the main character suffering front, and which I broadly recommend to anyone who’s interested in the genre. They didn’t end stick the landing QUITE as hard as an svsss or tgcf, but they still were very nice.

Then, let me see. I’m trying to remember which books I’ve read in the last year, and am doing a terrible job, haha. I will say that a book I enjoyed for like... eighty percent of it and then the ending let me down terribly was The Dreamer In The Spring Boudoir (modern day career woman transmigrates into barely-fantasy ancient china novel as the disliked primary wife of a nobleman), which is also the only straight webnovel I’ve read so far. The main character and romance were delightful, but that ending... haha, wow, I felt betrayed. But I did like the first half very much!! I’m idly contemplating a deliberately-partial reread. Then I’m currently like two chapters away from catching up with the current translation of The Wife Is First (ancient chinese prince lives out time travel fixit fic, determined to treat his spouse better this time around). I’m also catching up on Heroic Death System (transmigration, across MANY universes, where the goal is to die heroically in each one, and also maybeeeee to find his boyfriend in each one. this shit gets fucking bananas. in one of them, he emotionally seduces his boyfriend while he’s a dolphin. in another one, he’s a sentient mushroom. i’m in the middle of a section titled ‘I Am An Evil Pen’. yes, like a writing utensil type of pen. this is the weirdest book I’ve read so far). Oh, and Thousand Autumns (righteous sect leader gets sabotaged and loses a fight, wakes up blind and amnesiac, demonic sect leader is like ‘lol i bet i can turn him evil’ and accidentally catches feelings along the way).

What else... I’m keeping up with (but behind on) some others. First, there’s How To Survive As A Villain (modern terminally ill CEO transmigrates into stallion novel, wakes up as villain, accidentally seduces hero). Then, we’ve got Transmigrating Into The Body Of The Heartthrob’s Cannon Fodder Childhood Friend (only modern webnovel I’ve read, young man transmigrates into beginning of gratuitous whump book, back in high school, and is determined to protect the protagonist from all the canonical suffering). Then there’s Pulling Together A Villain Reformation Strategy (guy transmigrates into story as the hero’s childhood friend who will eventually become his enemy and get killed, successfully acts out his part and dies, completely fails to realize he’s broken his friend’s heart in the process... and then wakes up in another character’s body). And then there’s The Villain’s White Lotus Halo (a transmigrator keeps bouncing from universe to universe as a cannon fodder villain, who gets like half a line before being killed. he tries to purchase an upgrade package so he can be a COOL villain instead, but accidentally gets sold a ‘white lotus halo’ package instead, so that no matter what he does, everyone is just DEEPLY moved by his appearance and is positive he did nothing wrong). All of those are EXTREMELY delightful. You may notice a running transmigration theme, which....... yeah, I think there are a TON of delightful stories in the webnovel scene that deal with this genre, which seem so rare in English language media.

Which makes a good transition point to what’s different about the cnovel scene! I’ve seen hardly any transmigration stories in English, and I’ve got a couple go-to examples for when I’m trying to explain it, but like. Only a couple. Which is such a shame! Like, there’s the default idea of ‘I was reading this book and then I woke up inside the book!!’ but it’s clearly such an established genre that people are playing with it in all kinds of interesting ways, like in The Villain’s White Lotus Halo or Heroic Death System setups. It’s kind of wild to me, because it seems like such a gimme for a nice easy story structure? Whatever kind of world you want to present, there’s no need to introduce it to the reader from the ground up, or find a good way to hook them in. Either the main character read the book in question and can explain the premise and why we should care in pov, or the main character is new to the universe too, and trying to find their own footing. I enjoy it a lot! I’ve sampled transmigration books that didn’t grab me, but I’ve sampled way more that did. 

And then, the one semi-technical answer I thought of to this question was the way that these novels tend to handle pov. It’s not a hard-and-fast rule that regular novels are restricted to one pov, or that pov can only change at hard breaks in the story, but if I saw a bog-standard american novel glide from pov to pov the way these novels regularly do, I would tend to wonder if it was sloppiness or a mistake, or I would grump to myself about how I don’t like omniscient third person pov. And I still don’t know exactly what I think about this, or why it’s different in here, but I’m pretty sure I like it a lot, especially for stories where the romance tends to play a large part :V 

I used to read a lot of Books About Writing, and read plenty of stuff about why you don’t DO this, but.... I like it! In dtppf, Jing-wang can’t talk, and when Li Yu is a fish, he can’t talk, and drifting from one of their perspectives to the other gives me lots of useful information about how they’re both feeling. Could that be conveyed through restricted pov? Maybe! But I’m typesetting the svsss extras right now, and I’m in the bing-ge vs bing-mei section, and we get a few brief flashes of bing-ge’s thoughts, and it’s so NICE. It’s information I would not have otherwise received, because Shen Qingqiu sure wasn’t going to notice it. But early in the story, that pov was withheld from me, which also made sense (or hua cheng’s pov was withheld from me FOREVER, which makes me so sad ;u;). There don’t seem to be any hard and fast rules, which makes me really nervous about writing fic and trying to match the style, but I do like it a lot! 

And I’m definitely not able to articulate this in the way that I would like to, or speak with any real authority (I’m not that widely read in the cnovel scene, and i’m not very genre-adventurous in english), but there’s something about the role that the romances play in these stories that’s different from what I’m used to expecting, and it’s VERY tasty to me. I only rarely read romance novels, because I’m not often interested in the romance as a primary plot driver, but the romances in these books play a more substantial role than I’m used to expecting. And I’m into it! It’s a balance closer to what I’d expect from, like, a shippy longform fanfic. Which covers a lot of ground and is NOT a precise measure, but there’s more emotional weight given to the romance than I would expect, but without the romance carrying ALL of the emotional weight, and it strikes a perfect balance for me in a way I’m not used to encountering. Now, some of this could definitely be due to me not finding the right authors, or right subgenres, or whatever. But in the genres I inhabit, it’s a subtle difference, but one I find compelling.

Oh, one last thing. The cultural differences, duh :P I’m only familiar with things like, say, ancient chinese court etiquette through a lens of fan-translated novels like these, and I didn’t grow up steeped in the culture in a way I’m used to the trappings of something like medieval european courts. But there’s a distinct flavor to the social dynamics of these novels, from the formal levels down to the casual, and I know it’s super intricate and detailed and that authors play with differing degrees of historical accuracy vs fictional fun, and I wish I was better equipped to speak to the nature of any of this. But I find it really compelling! I recognize that it’s only new to ME because I didn’t seek out chinese media before now. And, the point that I originally wanted to get to before I got super distracted: the flirting. The flirting and teasing are a very different flavor from what I would expect in most english language media, and I love it, even if I can’t speak to how much of that is purely cultural, and how much of it is like... the conventions of How Fiction Is Written varying by culture, if that makes sense. I adore seeing what flirting and affection and indulgence and attentiveness look like in different settings, and these books, with their heavy romantic focus, absolutely deliver.

[damienthepious]

hello loves. I knew this was going to be my last Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday offering until december, so I wanted to make sure it counted. My goals for this month? Finish that little one-two punch fic from earlier, publish a 100th fic, and...

well...

finish this. So. Here we go...

Scattered On My Shore (Chapter 19 - End)

[Ch 1] [Ch 2] [Ch 3] [Ch 4] [Ch 5] [Ch 6] [Ch 7] [Ch 8] [Ch 9] [Ch 10] [Ch 11] [Ch 12] [Ch 13] [Ch 14] [Ch 15] [Ch 16] [Ch 17] [Ch 18] [ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla, Sir Damien/Rilla, Lord Arum & The Keep

Characters: Rilla, Lord Arum, Sir Damien, The Keep

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Pre-Relationship, (for the three of them. it’s established r/d), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Injury, Injury Recovery, Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, (this will also be), Enemies to Lovers, (for damien and arum eventually lol), Mutual Pining, canon typical Arum ignoring feelings

Fic Summary: Strange things wash up out of the lake near Rilla’s hut, on occasion. But this monster… this monster is certainly the strangest.

Chapter Summary: Stay 'till you can breathe like normal people do / I've got room in my house for you

Chapter Notes: End of the road, huh? Never dreamed this fic would get this long, never dreamed it would mean this much to me. This is the longest piece of fiction I've ever written, and the longest work I've ever completed by a country mile. Thank you for hanging in there with me. Thank you for reading. Thank you for every kudos and comment and bookmark. Thank you. Chapter summary from the song Midland, by The Mountain Goats. Have I ever shared my playlist for this fic? See the end of the chapter notes, I'll stick a link there.

~

The first night on the road home is probably the most difficult.

It's-

It's the first time that Rilla has gone to bed without Arum in literal shouting distance in… in months.

She doesn't say anything about it. She doesn't know what to say about it. Arum is safe, and she and Damien are going home, and they're going to see him again. They are. It's stupid to get all emotional about the fact that they- they're just going to need to deal with a little separation, for a few weeks or so.

Damien douses the fire as Rilla steels herself, flattening her face, arranging their bedroll. Damien comes to lay down beside her, and when he slips his arms around her, she tries to sigh, and- her breath catches.

Damien does not flinch. He presses his lips just above her brow, and she can feel the sympathetic tension in his arms as they settle in the bedroll, curling against each other, as close as they can manage despite the heat.

"I know," he whispers, and Rilla grits her teeth. "I know, my love. I'm sorry."

"Don't be," she manages. "Nothing to be sorry about."

"Of course it will be a challenge, this journey," Damien murmurs into her hair. "Especially this night. He is still so close, speaking relatively. So close we can still see that subtle, mellow glow from his swamp on the horizon. So close, and yet… riding away from him aches in my heart like a betrayal. We must, of course. Our duties, our lives… and I miss the Citadel as well. Miss the safety and warmth of your hut, miss… ah," she feels his lip curl into a small smile against her temple. "Ah, but there is the other side of the dilemma, yes? It is so difficult to think of your home, now, without…"

Without Arum there, too.

Rilla sniffs lightly, readjusting her grip on Damien beneath the heavy cloth, and then she pokes him in the side, making him exhale a gust of laughter.

"Faster we fall asleep, faster we'll be on the road again," she mutters. "Faster we're home, faster we'll find out exactly what the hell that plant he gave us actually does."

"Ah- right. I suppose you're right, my love."

"Just-" she clocks her head off his cheek, pursing her lips when that makes him laugh again. "Shush. Sleep now, mope later."

He hums an agreement, soft and soothing, and settles beside her. "Goodnight, my flower. I love you."

Rilla manages the ghost of a smile, feeling one of Damien's hands gently caressing up and down her back. "I love you too. Now go to sleep already."

He nods, light laughter still on his lips, and then he kisses her cheek one more time before he closes his eyes, and Rilla sighs and closes her eyes as well.

She doesn't exactly take her own advice, though.

The discomfort, the worry, the knowledge that she can't just call out and make sure that Arum's still okay- her mind won't slow down enough for sleep to take her, not for what feels like a long time.

It's okay, though. It's okay.

Damien is here with her. His hand keeps up that steady rhythm, his palm soft as his fingers trace up and down her back, gentle as rain, and clearly he's not exactly drifting off either.

They don't say anything else. Rilla thinks they both know it won't do any good, won't make them feel any better. They don't speak, but they can still hold each other, silent and longing despite themselves, and eventually, eventually, they will sleep.

And tomorrow they'll be another step closer to home.

~

The temperature in the Keep is the same as it always has been, but Arum finds himself cold, more often than not. The remainder of his injuries itch . Amaryllis left him with a number of salves to apply, to reduce the scarring, to speed the already-sped healing process, but it is… strange, to apply it himself. It felt different, before, smoothed across the ragged scabs by her soft, attentive, confident fingers. His own scales are cool. His own fingers do not hold the same softness. It feels perfunctory, now. Awkward and stiff. And-

When she finished tending to him, rewrapping bandages or checking his temperature or applying salve, Amaryllis would always… touch him, then. A gentle tap, on his shoulder, on his elbow. A silent signal, accompanied with a smile, to let him know she was done, before she would stand straighter and turn to attend to other tasks.

Once, when he is done smoothing his fingers across his fading wounds, he reaches across his body and taps his own elbow, hesitant, and then he feels so utterly foolish, so strangely empty, that he-

He does nothing. He simply hurts, for a long moment, before he sighs and sets the salve aside.

The Keep tries, in its way, to soothe this pain as it is soothing his actual injuries, but it is… not precisely the same. He is grateful for the Keep's attempts at physicality, grateful for the touch of vines, grateful to sleep cocooned in soft, oversized petals, even if it makes him feel like a coddled hatchling again.

("You're healing," Amaryllis says, stern and gentle. "Being rough on yourself is only going to make it take even longer. Just- let me take care of you, you big stubborn idiot.")

He misses her. He misses them both. He knew he would, before they left, but-

He spent so, so long missing the Keep. He is quite tired of missing.

~

During the day, they ride.

They can travel much more quickly, without needing to worry over the wounds of an injured monster. It will make the return trip substantially faster, but-

Neither of them feel as if it is truly going faster.

It reminds Rilla of paradoxes. It reminds Damien of a chiasmus, the reversal with new perspectives. Neither of them discuss it, though they both urge the horse faster, both eye the horizon with skeptical intent, as if it is widening from them deliberately.

It is a relief, not to worry over Arum's safety while they ride, not to have to duck their heads and avoid the eyes of other travelers, not to need to lie. They don't need to slow down to check him over and make sure none of his injuries have started bleeding, they don't need to break from travel to find a safe place hidden far away from the road to rest in each night. It's another odd overlay- the hurt of leaving him behind shaded by the relief of knowing that he's safe, and home, and healing. Rilla can't stop herself from mentioning where she thinks he'll be in his recovery day by day, based on her estimates considering how the Keep seemed to be accelerating the healing process.

Last of the bandages off, today, I'd bet, she says, absent as they ride, her eyes distant, and Damien nudges the horse a little faster.

Replacement wrap for the crack in his horn, today, I think, she says, and Damien remembers the elegant curves that grace Arum's head, his throat aching.

He should be shifting to the next set of exercises for his wrist around now, she mumbles as they sit beside the fire. He'd better've remembered, she adds with a frown, and Damien pulls her even closer.

Rilla does not say that she misses him. Not in so many words. Damien follows her example, though he often finds himself glancing back the way they came, watching as the distance between the pair of them and Lord Arum grows, clutching his heart to stifle the bittersweet pang at his center.

In the small stolen bits of time when they are not riding, eating, or sleeping, Rilla likes to examine Arum's gift. She gently lifts the wrapped plant out from the saddlebag that has become its temporary home, settling it in her lap and squinting at it, observing the structure of the leaves, the colors, carefully easing her fingers into the dirt to determine the root structure.

She hasn't seen anything exactly like it before, she explains to Damien, and the intensity of her focus makes his heart thrum with fondness and familiarity. She narrows her eyes at the small stalk, the waxy purple and green leaves on the trio of branches at the top (Damien remembers Arum's glossy green scales, his violet eyes, and he aches again with longing), and she purses her lips. Native to the swamp, she decides. It must be. It doesn't… seem magical, so she isn't sure what Arum could have meant when he gave it to them, but- well, it's not like Rilla has any of her more delicate instruments here on the road with her. She can't exactly test it, or put some cells under a microscope. She just does her best to water it enough to keep the soil wrapped at its base at a consistent moisture level, and she turns it over in her mind while she's prevented by pesky lack of resources from turning it over in reality.

Neither of them mention their fondness for the plant, either. It reminds them both of Arum, of the Keep, of the swamp, and even while Rilla frowns at her lack of knowledge, that reminds her of Arum too. It makes her scowl, and smile, and she wishes he was here to smack him for leaving her with a mystery deliberately, the sly monster that he is. She wishes he was here for a number of other reasons, too, but that's beside the point.

Damien, for his part, cannot say if he has ever had so many new verses dancing in his head at once. The plant is such a beautiful little metonymy, such a hopeful tether, and though he cannot help but yearn, his yearning still feels safe, like a source.

The nights…

The nights remain difficult. The midpoint of their journey is especially so- as distant from Rilla's home as they are from Arum himself, the night particularly dark this deep in the wilderness, comforted by each others arms and little else besides.

They wake bleary, but relieved to have put another night behind them. The help each other to their feet, and they ride.

~

The representative is halfway between the border of the swamp and the Keep when Arum finally allows the denizens of his swamp to do as they wish, to descend upon this unfortunate creature and chase him back out the way he came.

Arum steps from the portal just at the edge of his territory, just as the faun stumbles the final few steps backwards over the loose remnants of the border wall Arum and the Keep have been slowly dismantling, and the monster falls halfway into mud with a yelp and his hooves in the air.

Arum lifts a hand, and his denizens abandon their pursuit, birds and amphibians and mammals retreating back into the swamp and returning to their lives, and Arum looks down at the creature. He folds his arms primly behind himself, glaring hard over his snout until the faun notices him in his scrabbling.

He yelps again, losing his grip on a vine beside him and planting his face in the mud, and Arum tilts his head.

"No, no," he says, his voice low and murmuring and magnanimous. "By all means, take your time."

The creature pants, staring up at him, and then he scrambles backwards and rolls up on his hooves, his frame hunched in obvious terror.

"… Well?" Arum drawls after the panting silence draws long. "I don't expect you would have come this far for nothing, hm?"

The faun blinks, blank, and then he shakes his head quickly and his furry fingers fumble at the satchel at his side. "I- yes I- I have been tasked to deliver a m-message and-"

Arum takes a step closer, and the creature's words fly from his tongue, the muscles in his legs bunching as if to bolt. "A message…" he repeats slowly. "How… interesting."

The faun opens his mouth again, trembling, but the words seem to catch in his mouth as Arum looms.

"You, little creature," Arum says, very slowly, "look as if you have seen a ghost. Why, may I ask, would that be the case?"

"I-" the monster bites his tongue, glances aside as if hoping for some sort of help, and then he looks to Arum again. "I was told- I was- you were supposed to be-"

"Dead?"

The faun flinches, and Arum does not let himself feel guilty, considering that this poor little fool is only adjacent to the situation. The point needs be made, and since Arum cannot safely make it to the Senate in person this will have to do. He does soften the glare in his eyes, though, coiling his tail as he waits for the creature to respond.

"I am- I am to seek the current ruler of- of-"

"I am Lord Arum, ruler of the Swamp of Titan's Blooms," Arum says, flat and mild. "Will that suffice for you, then?"

The faun stumbles back another step, his shoulders hitting a tree. "I-I-I represent the Senate a-and they have- have sent me to-"

"The last creature who spoke to me on behalf of your Senate tried to plant a blade in my spine." Arum tilts his head in the other direction, leaning down and close so he may hiss his next words eye-to-eye with this creature. "She missed. Do you believe that your aim will be more true?"

The faun swallows, visibly, his eyes wide and his hands trembling, though he seems too frightened, now, to try to move at all. "I… I am not- not an assassin, I am simply-"

"Delivering a message, as you said." Arum straightens, raising an eyebrow as he stares down his snout at the monster. "To the current ruler of the swamp." Arum grins, a conspicuous display of fangs. "I am he. What missive did the Senate intend for me, then?"

With shaking hands, the faun pulls a scroll from the satchel at his side, and holds it out.

Arum takes the parchment gently, though the faun still flinches, and he reads the letter with careful attention, his brows climbing. He snorts, eventually, folding the paper between his claws and giving the courier an amused sort of look. "The previous ruler of this swamp was killed in the effort to eradicate the human infection," he parrots with half a laugh, and then he shakes his head. "I suppose that is one way in which to spin the truth. Was killed. A delightfully overt lack of active perpetrator in that claim, hm?"

The faun opens his mouth as if to reply, but then he simply gives a sharp nod, fear still obvious in his stance, in his eye, and Arum sighs.

"Well. You may tell the Senate that if they wish to broker an alliance with the Lord of the Swamp, they may come to entreat him personally . As things stand, The Swamp of Titan's Blooms and its residents are no longer a part of the effort to eradicate humanity, nor do they acknowledge the leadership of the Senate. If the Senate wishes to plead its case they may do so here, where their deceit shall not find purchase. Otherwise," Arum growls low, "my lands may simply find other allies. We may still, regardless of whatever overtures the Senate decides to make."

"Y-you- you want me t-to- to tell them-" the faun's eyes widen to saucers, his heartbeat approaching hummingbird speeds, and Arum decides to take pity.

"Hm. Yes, well. I suppose that there is no reason to give them excuse to blame the messenger. Wait a moment, then. Keep, parchment and ink, if you would."

The Keep does as asked, and the faun's eyes flick to the vines that appear from apparent nowhere to hand him his tools. The monster's body is prey-still, leaving aside the trembling.

Arum writes out his letter rather quickly. He has been thinking this through for long enough that he does not need more than a single draft. He rolls the parchment and slides it back into the case he had pulled the Senate's own letter from, and then he holds it out.

"Perhaps," Arum says, his voice low, "you should endeavor to leave the room before they read that particular note, hm?"

After a long moment faun lifts his hands, nods, and gingerly tucks the letter back into his satchel.

~

Once he is safely back within his Keep, Arum laughs until tears prick at the corners of his eyes, laughs until his ribs hurt, and it doesn't even matter how the Senate responds. Arum cannot find the place within himself to care. He will find a way to survive, to thrive, regardless of whatever those miserable fools decide to do about him.

Arum laughs, the last lingering ghosts of his injuries twinging at him, and he feels foolish, and wild, and free.

~

The hut sits just as they left it.

The windows are dark, the herb garden has grown a little scruffy around the edges, the flowers across the trellises drift slightly in the wind, and Rilla squeezes her arms around Damien before she swings down from the saddle. She lifts Arum's plant from the saddlebag as Damien dismounts as well, and he gives her a soft, tired smile before he leads his horse off towards her tiny one-horse stable by the edge of the trees.

There's a small, childish, illogical part of Rilla that expects Arum to be there when she creaks open the door. It's stupid, obviously, which is why she doesn't let herself feel disappointed when she finds the hut exactly as empty as it should be. She sets the plant aside first, dumps the rest of her bags in a corner, and goes to light the hearth.

When Damien finishes settling his horse and comes inside with the rest of their bags, Rilla has nearly finished moving the pile of notes in the corner of the kitchen to a new spot on one of her bookshelves, and she grins a little manically at him as he sets his bags down.

"I think I've got a pot big enough to replant this thing. Help me bring it inside?"

He smiles, and they're both exhausted but this is too important to wait. For both of them.

She scoops up some turned earth from the garden to mix with the wrapped soil around the roots of Arum's plant (no more than half again, she remembers, and she's very very careful about that particular measurement), and she and Damien maneuver a large, oval shaped pot into the space Rilla has cleared, at the corner of her kitchen and out of sight of the windows.

It looks so strange and incongruous there, purple and green and wild, and the scent of fresh earth mingles with the reassuring scent of the flames in the hearth, another unfamiliar addition. Damien rests a hand on Rilla's arm, his other hand pressing over his heart, and when he sighs Rilla feels her heart stumble as well.

"Well," she says quietly. "He said it would bloom quickly, but obviously it's not going to bloom right now." She lifts a hand, gripping Damien's hand and squeezing. "C'mon. Not gonna waste time watching for the pot to boil. Let's unpack, and put something together for dinner, yeah?"

Damien squeezes her hand in return, gives the plant one last lingering look, and then turns away to help her put their home to rights again.

~

Arum feels the Keep buzz through with excitement, hears it pull the portal open at his back, and he barely manages to set his tools down rather than simply dropping them to clatter on his workbench before he spins to see-

"-miss him," Amaryllis says softly, and through the portal Arum sees her sat at their table in the warmth of the kitchen, sees Damien beside her, sees their foreheads ducked close together, Damien's arm wrapped around her shoulder, Amaryllis' hands cupping his face, their eyes gently closed. "Just- it's so quiet and-"

"I know," Damien says, and Arum's heart feels as if it fluoresces within his chest at the poet's voice, finally- finally. "I miss him as well. But- patience, love. Surely, surely we can be patient." Damien nudges their foreheads together, smiling wryly, and the arm around Amaryllis' shoulders tightens as the doctor sighs. "We will see him again. We will."

"Sooner than you think, perhaps," Arum manages, mildly smug that his voice only shakes a little, and the humans both gasp, whipping their faces towards him, all shock and wonder and- delight. His throat goes tight, then, but he still manages to speak. Barely. "Amaryllis," he murmurs, too much feeling in his voice. "Honeysuckle."

They spring to their feet, and Arum cannot help himself. He rushes forward as well.

They collide just in the threshold of the portal, Amaryllis' barreling into his chest and knocking the air from his lungs, Damien's arms flinging around him with a joyous laugh, and-

And perhaps it does not matter, that Arum feels tears at the corners of their eyes. Not if the humans' eyes are bright with tears as well.

"You," Amaryllis growls, her arms tight and fierce around him, and then she leans back enough to swipe a hand over her eyes and scowl before she starts poking at him. "Don't think you can waltz in all dramatic and get around me checking in on you- have you been applying-"

"Every single salve you left me with, like clockwork. Following the doctor's orders to the letter," Arum says, his voice an indulgent purr as Amaryllis' hands skate over his midsection, as she presses a palm over the scar on his back, examining him with critical, warm attention. He would attempt to hold up some degree of indignation about this, if he were not so undeniably, breathlessly happy to hear her complaints again at last. "As if I could possibly ignore you, as if I could not feel the threat of your ire from miles and miles distant-"

Damien breathes something like a sob, his forehead pressed to Arum's shoulder, and Arum make a small, sympathetic noise, curling two arms around him and holding him tighter.

"Oh, little songbird-"

"Missed- missed even your arguments, my lily, I-"

"I missed you as well," Arum admits in a hiss, nuzzling into Damien's hair. "Missed you both, so much more than I knew I could."

The Keep sings behind him, a melody of teasing exasperation and fondness and delight, and Amaryllis leans back to grin, lifting a hand to touch the curling vines of the portal.

"Keep," she says, and she sounds so equally fond that Arum cannot help the little stab of adoration. "So, has he been taking care of himself, then?"

The Keep warbles, affirming and warm, and Amaryllis turns her skeptical, playful gaze back towards Arum, her smile tilting in such a way that he thinks that perhaps she is content with his Keep's answer.

"So that's what the plant does, then? It lets you make a portal- nevermind the distance, weeks and weeks of travel away?"

"That is not it's function, precisely," Arum says. "It has no function, it is simply… a piece of life, from my swamp. If I merely wished to grant myself a doorway to you- the plant itself… it was not necessary. The soil would have sufficed, in truth, for a short time at least, but-"

"But?" Amaryllis asks, looking up at him with more joy on her face than Arum knows what to do with.

"But this seemed… better. More… decisive. A scattering of dirt may be swept aside. I care far more for the both of you than such a simple gesture. This-"

The plant in the wide oval pot by Amaryllis' fireplace is vibrant, glossy, a stab of floral familiarity, shocking and incongruous in this place that Arum grew to know so well.

"You shared your home with me," he says, slow and certain. "It seemed only fitting to give you a piece of mine." He inhales, and he smiles as he continues. "Its roots are taking hold here now, just as mine have, alongside your own."

Damien makes another choking noise, and then his arms tighten around Arum even further, and he presses his lips to Arum's neck. "Let us grow together," he breathes against Arum's scales in a shaking voice, and Arum knows that cadence in his voice, knows the ringing of a poem in Damien's voice. "Twined roots, fruits shared- bite by bite." Damien smiles, lifts his head, cups Arum's cheek in a hand as he continues, his voice so warm and musical that Arum can hardly focus on anything besides. "We tend to that which heals us," he murmurs, "each vine another trellis, braiding lines, lifting- towards the light-"

Arum is too stunned by the words, hit too closely by them, and Amaryllis recovers more quickly, reaching up to brush the tears away from Damien's cheeks, pressing a kiss there as if to replace them.

"I think that's my favorite of the new ones," she whispers. "Thank you."

"Honeysuckle," Arum manages, after another moment, and then he leans down to echo Amaryllis' kiss on the poet's other cheek. "How you craft such beauty… it is quite beyond me."

"With such inspiration before me," Damien says in a quavering voice, "the words practically weave themselves."

"Will that stay?" Amaryllis asks suddenly, gesturing towards the portal.

"I could dismiss it, summon it back when it is needed," he says.

"Cool," she says, and Arum barks a shocked laugh as she tugs at his hands, pulling himself and Damien back towards the table, maneuvering them to sit and folding herself against his side with a hand on his chest, her fingers tapping in a rhythm that it takes him a few moments to realize-

She's tapping along to the beat of his heart. Her fingers drum a little faster, after that.

Arum swallows roughly, and then he nudges the Keep with his mind, and as it closes the portal, leaving the little plant behind in the corner (she placed it precisely where he suggested- he will need to prod her later, discover where she fit that ream of notes and theories instead), Arum is grateful to still feel just the barest hint of the Keep's presence at the edges of his mind. The magic will settle here, yes, just as he did. If they want it to.

He exhales slowly, holding the both of them in silence for a long moment.

"I…" he murmurs eventually, uncertain. "I admit that I… worried, after you left, that perhaps this would be… a step too far. Too presumptuous, to grant myself a door directly into your home, but-"

"No-" Amaryllis shakes her head, lifting away enough to meet his eye. "Arum this is incredible- can you just summon a portal anywhere?"

"Not anywhere," he corrects, mild. "Only within the Swamp of Titan's Blooms. Which…"

Amaryllis looks to the plant, more vivid purple now than it was when he gave it to her.

"You… you literally gave us a piece of… you literally gave us a bloom from your swamp."

"Oh Arum," Damien keens, pressing another kiss to his throat. "Oh-"

"I… yes. It seemed the only thing to do," he says, ducking his head, flustered with his frill fluttering. "I… I knew…" he stops, furrows his brow, tries again. "The Keep is my home, my family. And I… I know, now, that I… I've grown to think of this place… I want this place to be my home as well. I want to be close by your sides. I want- you. I want to be a part of your lives."

"Good," Amaryllis says, but even in her nonchalance her voice is- trembling. Her hand presses hard over his heart, and the she presses her mouth to his in a lingering kiss. "Saints- Arum, we want you too."

"Want you always," Damien adds, tearful. "Oh, to be a home for you- to tend our garden together- oh Arum, oh lily we will hold you if you want us- we will keep you safe, warm-"

Damien interrupts himself, clearly shocking himself with a yawn, and Arum and Amaryllis both laugh at the look of mortification on his face.

"You are…" Arum presses his snout against Damien's temple when he can't find the words to voice what, precisely, Damien is. "Ridiculous," he settles on. "And clearly exhausted. The plant bloomed much more quickly than I was expecting, I think," he mutters, glaring in its direction without any heat. "I can still smell the road on the both of you. Have you gotten any rest whatsoever since you've been home?"

Amaryllis rolls her eyes while Damien purses his lips in obvious guilt, and Arum stifles another laugh.

"Well. It seems it is my turn to act responsibly for once. To bed with you. You certainly won't be rid of me so easily that you shall miss out on a single sleepless night of my presence. To bed," he repeats, "and I shall find mine as well."

Damien blinks, surprised again, and he and Amaryllis meet each other's eyes for a moment, something passing between them.

"What?" Arum grumbles. "What is it? I do not intend to let you wear yourselves out further for my sake. Certainly you would not allow the opposite, were the tables turned."

"You- you want to sleep in the exam room again?" Amaryllis asks, her tone careful, and Arum-

Arum did not realize that there was another option open to him. Would she like for him to- return to the Keep?

He presses his expression flat, unbothered, and then he says, "Where… else?"

Damien and Amaryllis lock eyes again, and this time he can read a note of fondness before Amaryllis turns her attention back to him.

"Well…" Amaryillis trails off. "If you want to sleep in there, you can. I haven't touched it since we got home, so it's still set up the same as when you left it, but-"

"But?"

Amaryllis ducks her head, then looks up at him through the fall of her hair, her smile soft and easy. "You… aren't my patient, Arum," she says, and he blinks. "Not anymore. If you want that to still be your bed here- I understand. You spent ages there, I get it if that's where you're comfortable. But… we love you. We love you, and there's room in our bed for you, too. If you want it."

"If…" Arum trails off, his mind still catching on the belated realization that he- he may exist here, uninjured. A guest, not a patient, as he once imagined. "You… want me to…"

"We love you, Arum," Damien repeats, his tone unspeakably tender. "We want you. Every inch, every moment we may share is a treasure, a gift."

"Did it bother you to have us share your bed?" Amaryllis asks, and Arum wrinkles his snout.

"Ridiculous-"

"Exactly. So…" she bites her lip, and then she leans up, and kisses Arum on the cheek, her lips soft and warm against his scales. "Come to bed with us?"

That feeling again, as if his heart is glowing and warm, as if the light should be pouring out in shafts between his ribs. He presses his mouth against her own, an invitation, a request, and when she hums another kiss against his scales the light within him pulses hot.

"Please," he whispers, and with these two creatures in his arms, with the Keep a gentle presence at the edge of his mind, Arum knows that this is where he belongs.

The monster is barely conscious before he starts trying to pull the both of them closer.

Rilla can hardly blame him. If she wasn't worried about waking him too early, she would have tugged him into her arms ages ago. He's too tired to do much more than give a mumbled breath, though, his greedy limbs stretching out to tug weakly at Rilla and Damien's sides. Damien hums himself awake at Arum's touch, and he smiles so, so wide before his eyes blink muzzily open, and then he looks down at the monster in his arms, and then up at Rilla with a watery smile. She grins right back, and then she obliges Arum's sleep-slack, greedy hands, and she folds herself against his chest, angling her chin up so she can press a kiss to his neck, and Damien embraces him from the other side, strong arms looped around Arum's chest, fingers tracing the ridges of his scales.

Arum murmurs something incomprehensible through his teeth, his eyelids fluttering, and as Rilla kisses him again he hisses a contented sigh, his violet eyes slitting open to meet her gaze in the gentle light of morning.

Rilla is so shockingly in love that her heartbeat stumbles, and Arum and Damien are safe within her arms.

(He’s so pleased, radiating such obvious contentment, and he is so entirely stunned to wake with them holding him. His cheek rests on her hand and he presses his face into it as he rouses, his scales already warm from their radiant heat and his breathing going sharper through his smile, and she feels a fierce sort of satisfaction at that, at the idea of soothing him awake like this again, and again, and again)

He growls lightly, nipping at her fingers and tugging the both of them closer against his chest, rumbling with a deep, inhuman purr.

She almost can't believe there was a time when she thought of him only as a monster.

In their arms, in their bed, in their home. He is their monster. Safe, and healed, and loved.

~

End notes: Thank you. I love you. Thank you. For further feelings, my playlist for this fic lives here.

also? this note has been sitting at the end of this document since it was only three lines of goofy plot ideas.

[……… profit????]

[mrs-mikko-rantanen]

I’m A Wanted Man

BAD THINGS HAPPEN BINGO: SQUARE FILLED: BOUNTY ON THEIR HEAD 820 words, Canon!Renegade Archangels. So a bit more cyberpunk than the stuff I have been writing, (explains the aesthetic hyperfixation a little, right?)  but that doesn’t come across as much as I’d like lol. Anyway, this is number two for the Hurt Caelum Marathon! Not quiet whump, but we’ll count it.

Caelum panted heavily as he limped towards the alley he’d been hiding out in for the last week, hissing through his teeth as he stumbled, catching himself on the wall.. He’d been here too long, they were sure to have tracked him  by now. He lifted the edge of the fabric and ducked under it, sighing as he lowered himself down onto the thin mat he’d been sleeping on.

“You have to move.” He whispered to himself, “Get up. Pack up and move out.”

He didn’t move. He hadn’t even taken off the mask or his boots. He could feel the exhaustion pulling at the back of his mind, and he struggled to blink himself awake.

“Come on.” He hissed as he sat up. He winced as his foot stretched out. A few days ago, he’d twisted it on the run from a bounty hunter who’d been tailing him the whole morning. It had been stupid to stay in place after that, but he was just...so tired. The thought of packing up after he had just holed up had been so exhausting that he’d actually cried. He hadn’t actually slept since then, either. He’d spent the last four days curled up in the fetal position with his back against the wall and a hand wrapped around his gun, just barely dozing and snapping awake in a panic at any sound. 

Come to think of it he hadn’t really eaten anything in that stretch of time either. Not anything substantial anyway. And the amount of water that he’d drank was pathetic. He winced a little and thought guiltily of what Avanda would say if she could see him like this. 

Avanda. The first one who’d been taken. Or killed. They still didn’t know. She’d just vanished without a trace. And that had been their first proof of the bounties. After serving their whole lives in the Regiment, they’d all had their suspicions of course. But they’d managed to move from planet to planet with relative ease, and no one had really stopped them. It had been easy. Too easy.  

“Sorry, Av.” Caelum whispered as his eyes began to drift shut. He was just beginning to drift to sleep, when a sound caught his attention. He snapped awake again, sitting up and holding his breath.

There. Footsteps. His heart pounded in his chest, he felt dizzy, his lungs burning. He pulled his hood back up with one hand, the other flipping the safety of his gun off. He stood up slowly, staying in a half crouch and staring at the flap of his makeshift tent.

His mind raced as the footsteps stumbled closer. He weighed his options as best he could while he stayed frozen in place, terrified that whoever it was would be able to hear his racing heart. He winced, eyes flicking shut for just a moment as his pursuer paused. He could run. He could slip out of his small tent and make a break for it. He may have to fight whoever it was to get by, but he could do that. He’d have to leave what few supplies he’d gathered behind, but that wasn’t much of a loss. He’d stolen all of it, so he would be able to build his supply again later. Or, he could wait. He could stay put and hope that whoever it was would just leave him alone; or that they were traveling by themselves and he could outrun them.

“Hey…” The gun snapped up and he gritted his teeth, the footsteps coming to a stop outside the tent. A gloved hand gripped the fabric, lifting it up. Caelum took a step forward, years of Regimental training kicking in as he took the initiative. The drunk on the other end of his gun stumbled back, eyes wide and hands up as Caelum pushed him out of the tent. 

“Whoa man, hey.” He slurred, “Was jus’ looking’ for a drink, that’s all.”

“I don’t have anything. Back off.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m goin’ man.” The man swore at Caelum as he watched the man leave the alley.

It was definitely time to move on.

He sighed and began to pack up his supplies, wadding them up into his backpack, slinging it over his shoulder. He stuck to the shadows of the street, hood and mask up, shoulders hunched in an attempt to hide his height. His long fingers lifted fruit off of vendors carts as he searched for somewhere to stay.

There were wanted posters on every kiosk and street corner, with his own face glaring down at him, layered between the faces of his friends. All of them were overlaid with red lettering, stating their charges and the prices being offered for their capture or for information about them. 

Caelum smirked a little as he noticed that the price on his head had gone up since the last time he’d looked.

[the-darklings]

DUDE your tags on the hozier jackie and wilson song post GOSH. WHAT HAVE U DONE? the level of involvement i have developed towards those two is absurd at this point thanks for that

—reasons wretched and divine;

pairing: santino x reader (vipress) [you win this one team santino]

wc: 2.2k+

an: so anon is referring to this post and the tags on it. I originally wanted to hold off writing this cause while it is a canon event for COA, it takes place directly during Chicago, and obviously since no one has any clue wtf happened there I worried it might be premature to write this but you know what?? I’m miserable and wanted to write something cute so here we go. Enjoy dear anon! And to the other anon who said there are no fics for him…I hope this can sate your thirst lol.

Lake Michigan is a sprawling, large ravine of water that reflects the setting sun as you stare at it through the hotel window.

In the far west, dark clouds are already gathering and you know that there is substantial snowfall in the forecast. Ares had made a comment earlier about how navigating Santino’s security is going to be a nightmare for the next few days.

Curling tighter in your seat, you lean your cheek against your folded arms, debating a nap before dinner. You managed maybe two hours of sleep last night and your head feels exceptionally heavy. You hate the fact that awake or asleep you never seem to find peace anymore.

The earlier silence filling the room has been suffocating though, so you have opted to turn on the radio to dispel it. The random station continues playing an unfamiliar song and your eyes flutter closed for a second.

The door to your room suddenly opens behind you, and your fingers wrap around a blade; a cold, comforting weight in your hand.

Sucking in a sharp breath, you turn, readying your muscles for a fight.

But your fear is unfound when you spot Santino strolling into the room, his phone pressed to his ear and expression pinched with annoyance. His lips, too, are pulled into a faint sneer as he listens to whatever is being said impatiently.

“I do not need it tomorrow,” he remarks in biting, cold French before spotting you and giving you a brief smile as he turns his attention back to the conversation. “I do not need it later. I need it now. So I suggest you start doing your job before I find someone who can.”

He hangs up without waiting for an answer and grumbles under his breath. “People. Tell me, cara mia, is everyone that’s not us is this stupid and incompetent?”

“Probably,” you drawl, sheathing your blade and turn your attention back towards the large window. “You’re also kind of an asshole.”

Santino scoffs with a snarky grin as he comes to a stop beside you, his expression easing. His eyes take you in—pathetic and miserable, with your limbs folded around you like a shell—and his smile dies a little. There is something about that intense regard of his that makes you almost brittle. It’s as bad as Winston, except Santino doesn’t look grim with understanding. Santino dresses up his rage with a calm softness that brims with that familiar, cold promise of retribution.

“How are you feeling?” he asks, though it sounds more demanding due to subtle anger lacing the words and deepening his accent. “Still unwell?”

“I’m fine,” you shoot back dully, not looking at him, but that glimmer of curiosity still forces your tongue. “I didn’t know you could speak French so well.”

It’s a statement more than a question, but just as expected Santino sits down beside you in the other spare chair. Unlike you, however, his eyes focus on you oppose to the stunning scenery outside the window.

“I am a Camorra heir,” he reminds you but there is nothing patronising to be found in his smooth baritone. “My father made sure that Gianna and I had tutoring in all the main spoken languages from around the world. We started young.”

“What if you don’t have an aptitude for languages?”

Santino smiles slightly when you glance at him, but it’s a cool, cutting thing. The look in his eyes even more so as he laces his fingers together, his elbows resting on his thighs. “Ah, my father did not particularly care for that, cara.”

You scoff, shaking your head a little. That isn’t exactly surprising to hear, especially in relation to a man like Giovanni. A man of strong, unforgiving features, deep voice and eyes so dark they make it difficult to even look at him. It makes you suppress a shiver just thinking about him.  

For a few minutes, you sit in almost comfortable silence and although you don’t consider Santino someone you can completely relax around, you find yourself grateful he is here. Better than being alone. Perhaps Winston had a point after all.

But you don’t need anyone, you remind yourself.

You don’t need another repeat of John.

John and his beautiful wife. John and his wonderful wedding. John and—

Something inside aches; a dull, violent throb of loneliness. Of pain.

Your fingers tremble violently before you hide them from sight, and feel Santino follow the motion with his eyes. Too slow.

After another few seconds of watching the almost gone sun, he rises to his feet with a deliberate sort of air around him. He turns to you, extending his hand in your direction, his eyes giving nothing away.

You stare at him blankly.

“The radio,” he speaks after a pause, one eyebrow quirking. “We should practice. We have to be—”

“Convincing, yes, you have said that maybe ten times already,” you interrupt with a roll of your eyes before glancing around the room and back to him. “I’m not going to dance with you, Santino.”

The man before you slides one of his hands in his trouser pocket, observing you with a tilt of his head, and keep his hand extended between you.

“Come now, cara mia,” he speaks, his voice laced with boredom and this time you do see the arrogant heir who gets everything he wants. “My arm is growing tired.”

Snorting, you rise to your feet stiffly, glaring. You know him well enough to know that he will not drop it. So you will give him what he wants, if only to get rid of him. So much for not being alone.  

You stand face to face for a second—with him simply gazing at you and you glaring back. He steps closer, one arm wrapping carefully around your waist while another gently takes a hold of your hand. Your body is a coiled mass of taut muscles while your jaw grinds painfully. His expression is both guarded and open all at once as he peers at you silently.

He’s warm.

It’s an odd thing to notice about a man who revels in violence. But till that moment you haven’t realised how cold your hands have gotten. He cradles your fingers in his larger ones, surprisingly gentle, and the warmth of his Camorra ring presses into your skin as you sway awkwardly from side to side.

“Clearly,” he starts teasingly, but more subdued than you’re used to seeing him. “We are both exceptionally gifted dancers.”

You don’t answer him. You’re not in the mood to joke around. You haven’t been in the mood for anything lately.

The radio continues playing another unfamiliar tune, and you let your mind focus on the lake outside your window again.

“Say something,” he whispers abruptly, strained, and you head snaps in his direction at the angry softness wrapping his words. His grip on you tightens briefly before loosening again. “Anything. Where is the fire that I adore so? Do not tell me that he robbed you of it so completely, cara mia.”

Your heartbeat spikes, and you stare at him coldly. “I am seconds away from walking away from this whole thing,” you inform him and your words are harsh even though you don’t so much as raise your voice. “You don’t talk about him. Ever.”

Santino’s jaw tenses at your words—at the acidic bite of them—but he doesn’t oppose you. Only looks at you. You wonder what it is exactly that he’s trying to unearth. You’re not sure there’s anything left to you anymore.

Though you continue swaying from side to side, the silence between you is chilly, heavy.

The song on the radio changes again and you blink, recognising the start of a familiar tune. Then comes the voice and despite your best intention to remain unaffected, you start swaying to the beat. Santino notices, his green eyes gleaming with understanding.

“This song…” he trails off, glancing towards the radio. “It is familiar to you, no?”

No other version of me I would rather be tonight and lord, she found me just in time.

You shake your head in immediate denial, but Santino’s eyebrows jump up playfully and he matches your rhythm, turning from side to side with more energy. His arm stays on the small of your back but now a small smile lingers across his lips.

I need to be youthfully felt ‘cause, God, I never felt young.

He starts humming and you shoot him a half-hearted glare. “What are you doing?”

His smile turns slyer, knowing, but his voice is ever-so innocent when he speaks. “Dancing, bella.”

The chorus kicks in, and Santino pushes you away from him before tugging you back with one smooth motion and you stifle a gasp, your grip on him tightening. He moves you in a more deliberate circle, singing under his breath. He butchers every single line, clearly having no idea what the lyrics even are while you continue glaring. But he just watches you, smug and shrewd, every time your eyes meet.

He steps back and raises your hands above your head. Rolling your eyes, you turn in a circle, your muscles loosening somewhat as he pulls you back into his embrace.

“Those are not the lyrics,” you grumble petulantly, shooting him a look but Santino only grins wider. “It’s not—”

He dips you with a chuckle and pulls you back up to him, ignoring your slap on his shoulder with another grin of amusement.

“Then you better sing it with me and correct me, cara,” he informs you, mock-serious, but his eyes glow with mirth, a playful teasing. He steps back, grabbing your other hand and tugs back and forth, creating little waves with your arms.

You both no doubt look ridiculous. Like two little kids dancing in a playground, clumsy and uncoordinated, as you try to create your own rhythm.

But—

There is a slow blooming lightness in your chest you can’t recall feeling for ages.

A reluctant smile tugs one corner of your mouth even if you try to smother it, and you know by his pleased expression that he’s spotted it nonetheless.

We tried the world; good God, it wasn’t for us.

“She’s gonna save me, call me baby,” you sing under your breath and he joins you—both of you most likely completely off-key and miles away from the tune—but you can’t help but chuckle when you note how seriously he’s taking this. “Run her hands through my hair. She’ll know me crazy, soothe me daily. Better yet, she wouldn’t care.”

Clearly picking up on the lyrics, Santino sings a bit louder—still off-key—as he leads you in an extravagant circle, your arms still swinging. He twirls you again, and you can’t help but chuckle as your terrible mix of voices soars while you turn from side to side. You’re a flurry of movement, both caught in the lively energy of the song as you tangle in each other.

“We’ll name our children Jackie and Wilson raise ‘em on rhythm and blues,” you finish off, breathless with laughter and lean into him for a second, a crooked grin splitting your face.

Santino drags his eyes over your features, seemingly caught off guard by what he’s seeing, and clears his throat slightly before smirking faintly.

“Who is this man?” he questions, both curious and somewhat out of breath, and you don’t miss the fact that his grip on your doesn’t loosen. “We should go see him.”

You can’t help but snort, and his expression creases with wonder when he notices your amusement. He’s smiling too though—as if your momentary joy is somehow important to share in.

“What?”

“Well, for one, I don’t think he’s on tour,” you point out and realise that you haven’t heard your voice this light and carefree in months, if not years. “And I’m sure an Italian mobster with a pack of guards is going to draw no attention whatsoever.”

Your sarcasm is clear and open, and his answering crooked grin makes him appear younger, less guarded. Less arrogant, too, and more…more human. Something you have never seen him show openly before—not like this.

“It could be just us and Ares,” he tells you calmly, but there is a flicker in his eyes that seems to make him hesitate for a split second before he continues on, “Or…just us.”

Something inside your withers at his words; retreating inwards, terrified and broken, and you pull away from him.

With every new inch of distance between you, Santino’s open expression draws closed again. Only the cool, haughty heir remains and for a loaded moment, neither of you speak. A step at most separates you but it might as well be miles. It has caught you off guard—this genuine moment of fun and freedom and laughter, but it’s time to come back to reality.

And the reality is that you are not here, in this city, for fun and games.

“We should focus on the job.” Forced and empty.

“Yes, of course, cara mia. It is for the best.” Stilted and formal.

His hands slip back inside his pockets and he regards you for another brief moment before moving past you.

You stand rooted in your spot, the distant sound of the radio filling the air.

Santino’s footsteps fade.

Outside, it begins to snow.

…

an: ofc I have to finish with a sprinkle of angst. hope you enjoyed this tho. I needed something sweet today. Dedicating it to my little bean who I had to say goodbye to today, and Team Santino who is cheering me up a lot these last few days with their wild messages. Love ya guys!  

[notyourparadigm]

I understand the nuances of Dorian's life in Dragon Age, my big fear is that Bioware will piggy back off of something pre-established as a "OH see! Lore building!" as a way to hand wave away queer romances that just are. I've been playing the mass effect remaster and there's big backlash on not bringing back cut queer content. The excuse is always something about not wanting to hurt sales and upset parents and it sucks. I'm worried that they'll use pre-established stories that are real and genuine, and use it as an excuse to avoid substantial queer content.

I really, really don't see them doing that, honestly. Dragon Age (and Mass Effect) are both rated M. I've never seen BioWare once claim they have avoided content out of fear of "upsetting parents", because it's not a game they're marketing to children in the first place. In fact— every single entry of Dragon Age, they've been adding to the significance of queer characters, and giving them more agency in the narrative at large.

In DAO, they had (to my knowledge; I've not been in the fandom since ye olde days) some of the first queer representation in gaming I could even think of— and genuine romance, too, not just a gag or off-screen reference of queer people. Now, could you marry Alistair and become King of Ferelden as a m!Cousland? No. Was the subject of sexuality / same sex couples in Thedas really addressed aside from "sometimes they fuck"? No. It was still very bare-bones. But still way more than most games I know at the time.

In DA2, they said "fuck it, everyone's bi", in a way that both took steps forward (no default heterosexuality for characters) as well as steps back in that by just having everyone being bi, there was less of actual queer stories being told as much vs sort of a blanket "playersexual" narrative you'll see people sometimes site (as well as with some massive nasty bi erasure in removing Anders' lines regarding Karl for fHawke, which I won't defend lmao). But it was so nice to go into a game knowing that the character I ended up liking the most I could romance without fear of them being straight-locked.

In DAI, I think they recognized that this was not the ideal form of representation, as we had the first instances of characters being homosexual-locked, as well as dialogues and narratives specifically addressing the characters as such, as well as the first game I've ever played with a canonical transgender character not played for laughs. Now, was everything done perfect? No, not really. I've never played Sera's romance all the way through but seeing videos of her personal quests really... make me think I probably never will. RIP. And the fact that Krem was voiced by a cis woman still makes me :\ pretty hard.

But you know what I see the most with BioWare? They're trying with their representation. Dorian's narrative hit home with me in ways I've never felt in a video game before. Seeing Krem being defended by the Chargers if the Inquisitor makes ignorant remarks about his identity made me smile and feel seen for the first time in gaming. Having the boldness to gay/lesbian-lock characters in a world where heteronormativity is rampant in most of their target market shows signs to me that they're trying to take strides to do more, and better each time— regardless of what's profitable or marketable.

So to be honest, anon— I am not worried about DA4 shying away from queer content, if the trends from the games thus far are anything to go by. BioWare has been attempting to push the envelope and tell more genuine and full-dimensional stories with each entry, and while they might fail and blunder along the way (and be decried online endlessly for it) what matters most to me is that they're trying.

No piece of media is free of flaws, and no doubt we will continue to tell the writers where their writing and representation is problematic. And hopefully, they will continue to listen and try to rectify those issues. But the fact that they're still doing their damned hardest to try even after being chewed out by fandom places (for not getting the representation right) and conservative gamers (for daring to put the "queer agenda" in their game) gives me hope that they are going to continue to try.

EDIT: I forgot to mention that I haven’t played any Mass Effect games so I can’t put proper input in on that aspect of things lol. But when it comes to most remasters, I can’t say I’m surprised that they don’t put back in cut content, not because it’s controversial— but because it’s extra time, effort, and thus money. New voice lines, play testing new / variants on quests, etc etc. I doubt the choice to not put in cut queer content was anything other than based on money. If it was free/cheap to do, I don’t see why they wouldn’t slap it on there and market “ALL NEW!! Previously Unseen Content!” for EZ marketing. If BioWare was truly afraid of pissing off people for promoting LGBT content— I think that ship has already sailed with their library of other games with visible queer content.

[alewyren]

tumblr is dead but I’m gonna post my thoughts on Inuyasha here too for archiving purposes. cw for (non-detailed) discussion of sexual assault and suicide wrt kikyo

OKAY. SO. MY THOUGHTS ON INUYASHA. warning for some INCREDIBLY hot takes.

it. sure was a journey. I am not sure if I liked the series overall or not. It had some legit good/touching moments, but it dragged SO LONG and there were a lot of things I thought could've been handled better. But it was fun liveblogging it for sure. And I got NarKik out of it, which snapped me out of my year-long creative dry spell, so it was at least a net positive time investment LMFAO.

I liked... mmmmost of the characters? sango, sesshoumaru, kagura, kanna, naraku, kohaku, K I K Y O, and even kagome were all Good. On the flipside, Inuyasha himself is FUCKING TERRIBLE and he sucks and I hate him. Emotional immaturity ain't cute, he gets everything handed to him on a silver platter, rarely apologizes for being a selfish prick, and the other characters are WAY too forgiving of his bullshit. I got tired of the tsundere het romance cliches between him and Kagome pretty fast, as well as how often he was jealous of her. Like, Kagome's insecurities over Kikyo I can legit understand (despite being #1 Kikyo Fucker). But whenever she's so much as civil with Kouga and Inuyasha's all HANDS OFF MY WOMAN I'm like... dude shut up you two-timing hypocrite. If You Like It Then You Should’ve Put A Ring On It. Credit where credit is due tho, they did chill out over time and some of their moments together towards the end of the series were legit sweet. I'm pretty meh on Inukag overall, and iffy on the resolution of her moving to his era permanently, but that last panel of him greeting her as she came out of the well gave me a Feel.

(Actually, on that note, it... would have been legit kind of hella if the series had ended with Inuyasha himself permanently moving to the modern era? Aside from their friends he had far fewer attachments in his world than she did hers, and there's so much more potential with him having to adapt to the modern era, lol. ALTERNATIVELY, kikyo lives and she switches places with kagome and makes a new life for herself in the modern era. thus letting her truly live as a normal girl. But I'll Get To Kikyo Later. smh)

The premise of the series is actually pretty strong, though of course you can poke holes in it. To my knowledge it was the first isekai anime that really took off, and the driving plot of collecting the Shikon fragments is excellent monster of the week material (though I'm not really a monster of the week fan myself). Also, youkai are awesome. Focusing the series on real-world mythology makes my Shin Megami Tensei heart very excited.

I know the series runs on emotion rather than logic, but I REALLY have some questions here. The fact that the well is explicitly stated to take Kagome back in time rather than to another world makes no sense at all. First of all, where are all the youkai in the present day? Inuyasha and Sesshoumaru are at least a couple hundred years old, right? What happened to them in that 500 year timespan? Surely some creature or another from the series would have naturally survived that long. So what happened? Was there a mass-youkai extinction somewhere along the line? Shouldn't this be cause for concern? Also, do Kagome's time-traveling actions create a stable time loop or a branching timeline? If Naraku won in the past, how would that affect the present? The two eras are just completely isolated from each other and I really don't get it. That kind of stuff. Yeah yeah I know MST3K mantra and all but MAN this bothers me.

Which brings me to Exhibit A of stuff I think should have gone differently: Kagome should have stayed the protagonist, and the modern era should have gotten more focus. Not as in her day-to-day school shenanigans, but stuff touching on the questions listed above. There's just a lot of untapped potential regarding How This Shit Works, rather than confining the story pretty much entirely to the Sengoku Jidai With Youkai. Also there could be plenty of shenanigans with characters OTHER than Kagome and Inuyasha hanging out in the present. LIKE KIKYO. okay yeah my kikyo bias is showing but it would be the perfect opportunity to 1. hide her from naraku (unless he found a way into the present, but that just ties into my previous point), 2. develop her friendship with Kagome. Which would have done both of them wonders. BUT I'LL GET TO KIKYO LATER. (I'm dying imagining Kagome introducing Kikyo to her schoolmates as her cousin and taking her shopping though..... teaching her how to ordinary human... like..... HHH.)

Anyway, Kagome as the protagonist. She was very much the protagonist at the start of the series--she took a more active role in a lot of the monster of the week conflicts, and just had a lot more focus and screentime in general. Then Inuyasha got his sword upgrades and her role in conflicts became reduced to sensing Shikon fragments and occasional use of arrows. It took until the last hundred chapters for her to get ANY sort of substantial power-up, and it felt... unearned? I had been looking forward to her developing her miko powers alongside Inuyasha's youkai powers, and getting bow upgrades to match his Tessaiga upgrades, but it just... didn't happen. Her miko powers having been sealed all along felt like an ass pull, and I wasn't really a fan of the test of character she had to go through in order to get the fancy bow upgrade being solely focused on overcoming her feelings of jealousy towards Kikyo... again... like it's valid for her to feel that way but we've been here already! Surely there's more to her character than this! I think it would've been awesome if she actually got some fights of her own too, and maybe Kaede and eventually Kikyo mentoring her growth as a miko? But as far as canon went, it just felt like she got shallower and less interesting over time as Inuyasha slowly took over the protagonist role and that was a damn shame. Let Kagome be the plucky isekai protagonist she was always meant to be! This, of course, ties in with my assertion that the modern era should have gotten more focus too.

okay, so. it's time. kikyo. Kikyo. I fucking LOVE kikyo, absolutely my fave chara, I was not expecting to love Kikyo this much lmao. All that ship war propaganda was a big fat lie. She has an ASTONISHINGLY mature narrative about the effect of tragedy and trauma on people and relationships, but it was SO under-utilized and shafted in favor of the Love Triangle and Inuyasha's Manpain and I'm FUCKING UPSET. Kikyo was (or at least had the makings to be) the best character in Inuyasha but she was not done justice at all, in this essay I

Like, sit down and think about it. Here we have a woman who lost her parents at a young age, taking on the responsibilities of her household, and training to be a miko on top of it--which in the world of Inuyasha is a very emotionally demanding position that requires her to basically devote her entire life to her duties, ESPECIALLY once she's entrusted with the Shikon Jewel. All while being required to live a life of asceticism and suppressing worldly desires. In short, she basically never had a chance to actually, like. Live. Keep in mind that she was a child/teenager throughout all this (she was 17/18 when she died). That's a LOT of pressure on someone that young.

At this point, she's understandably lonely and depressed, and then along comes Inuyasha. She falls in love with him, gets a taste of a life that would truly make her happy, and has it ripped away. Like, there's some really fucking dark subtext to the whole Onigumo plot. She shows kindness to a random stranger, who proceeds to make a deal with the devil to LITERALLY RAPE HER, and her life is ruined as a result. No, Kikyo wasn't literally raped in canon, because even though Onigumo wanted to rape her Naraku's intentions towards her were... more complicated if still incredibly fucked up, but good lord the subtext is THERE. And as a result of the ensuing incident, believing Inuyasha betrayed her, she straight up KILLS HERSELF. Yes, it was partly to protect the Shikon Jewel, but she did not want to come back to life. Let that sink in. Kikyo was driven to suicide by an incident incited by a man who took advantage of her kindness in order to rape her. (nostalgia critic voice) FAMILY PICTURE!

I'm not gonna pretend Kikyo was the only victim here, though. Inuyasha has pretty clear PTSD from the event too, even after learning Kikyo is innocent. But through his relationship with Kagome, he begins to heal and move on. Then Kikyo gets brought back as a clay zombie, fucks up his whole grieving process, kickstarts the love triangle, you know the story. Kikyo's perspective is actually really interesting to dig into though. She didn't want to be brought back. She's PISSED. Even when the dust settles and she learns that Inuyasha is innocent, the anger and trauma have changed her. She's got a good ol' dose of PTSD herself. She's colder, harsher, engages in risky/self-destructive behavior, and distances herself from her loved ones. Like, think about it. Was there any logical reason she had to separate from Inuyasha and his group to fight Naraku on her own? To keep them in the dark about why she surrendered the Shikon Jewel to Naraku? No. That's a character flaw on HER part. And all this puts real strain on her relationship with Inuyasha. They still love each other, but their mutual trauma has completely changed their dynamic. Their love is based on their past relationship rather than their present chemistry. They don't make each other happy anymore. Neither of them are at fault for that. That's REAL AS FUCK. That's what trauma DOES to people and relationships.

So, yes, I'm a hardcore Kikyo stan who supports InuKag over InuKik. We exist. InuKik does not work as a relationship in the present because they've both changed due to trauma and that's the GODDAMN POINT. It's not a story about true love, it's a story about moving on from first love. The problem is that Kikyo's character is largely confined to her role as a love rival to Kagome. Inuyasha's side of the InuKik narrative, of letting go of the past and healing, is resolved. Kikyo's is not. And boy, I was ABSOLUTELY FUCKING LIVID that the love triangle was resolved through Kikyo's death rather than Inuyasha just... fucking, PICKING KAGOME OVER KIKYO BEFOREHAND RATHER THAN HER NEEDING TO DIE. She can still die after that! I swear, I'm not just salty because my fave died. At least 70% of my favorite charas are dead. I literally don't care anymore. I'm mad that she was killed off in a way that reduced her to being Inuyasha's Woman rather than getting a chance to heal and grow apart from him, as he did from her. And this in turn cheapens the narrative around why InuKik doesn't work as a present relationship to begin with, because he never actually picks present love over past love! He just keeps committing emotional infidelity until Kikyo gets killed off to wrap things up in a neat little bow with no character growth on his part! This shit is why I hate Inuyasha (the character).

Kagome's kindness towards Kikyo also plays a part in why she softens up by the end, yes, but that kindness is entirely depicted as "I want to save her because she's important to Inuyasha and I love Inuyasha." Kagome's character growth in these moments hinges on her picking love over jealousy, NOT through actually bonding with Kikyo. On top of that, Kikyo saving Kohaku over defeating Naraku struck me as out of character (have to show she's not a bad person after all? which she isn't, but still). It definitely made her death feel even more pointless. How come Kohaku gets to live and not her!!! Seriously, the fact that Kohaku gets to live and Kikyo doesn't REALLY rubs me the wrong way. She barely even knew Kohaku! He was willing to die to defeat Naraku! NOT killing Kohaku to defeat Naraku almost cost MORE lives! It could've been a poignant resolution to her character arc, but there wasn't enough buildup for it to be a convincing decision for her to make.

And oh my god, there's SO much wasted potential here. Kikyo's resentment towards Kagome is super understandable, and it's never really explored. Kagome replaced her. Kagome is filling the role she should have filled. What's even left for her except her hatred of Naraku? She asserts that Inuyasha cannot forget her (her being lowkey possessive of him is *chef kiss* my wife is a bitch and I like her so much), and he doesn't, but she still straight up tries to kill Kagome lmao. Like I said they do reconcile, but it's kinda half-assed. Kikyo's feelings are never explored in-depth. She's never truly given a chance to heal and realize that she does have a place in the world beyond her decaying relationship with Inuyasha and hatred for Naraku. That her scarred, flawed existence is still just as fucking valid as Kohaku or Rin or Jaken being able to live after being brought back from the dead. Like lemme stress again that the girl experienced INTENSE trauma and COMMITTED SUICIDE. The notion that she's the only one who needs to die in order to restore the natural order, that her death is beautiful and tragic but necessary, is..... gross, tbh. :U

Like, she can still die, lmao. IMO it'd be legitimately more interesting if she lived, if she had an opportunity to carve a place for herself outside of Kagome like Kagome did Kikyo, but it IS possible for her to die without it making ME want to die. Just resolve the love triangle shit first, flesh out some of her relationships outside of Inuyasha himself (ESPECIALLY Kagome), show her healing and softening, and then she can die protecting everyone or some shit. That would've been fine. But No. She just gets killed off for the service of Inuyasha's character, so he can hook up with Kagome guilt-free, with NONE of this addressed. Because it's more palatable for a woman to be dead than broken up with, I guess? I Hate It Here, You Guys.

her (near) last words being "I've finally become an ordinary woman" rubbed me the wrong way too... it like, tried to wrap her character arc up in a neat little bow while ALSO entirely confining its resolution to being Inuyasha's Woman and discarding the narrative of trauma driving them apart. I love the narrative of the girl forced to be inhuman who just wants to be normal. This just felt like... a really cheap way to go about doing that, at the disservice of her character being about OLD love, for a forced (and false) sense of closure. Didn't like it. God fucking damn, typing it all out just made me even MORE pissed off.

tl;dr: kikyo had the makings of an amazing trauma survivor narrative but it got shafted. she deserved everything. thank you for coming to my TED talk.

SIGH. okay. there are other characters I wanna touch on too. Uhhh I actually thought Naraku was pretty cool, though he became way less interesting after Mt Hakurei (for the most part--he was cool again during the direct lead-up to Kikyo's death as well as the final battle). His identity crisis was pretty neat, as was the way he specifically targeted other people's emotions and relationships as a way to compensate for his own utter lack of a sense of self. Not to mention the cold, detached way he regards his own emotions ("my pp stands up whenever i look at kikyo, wish it wouldn't do that :/") and how this leads him to succumb to the influence of the Shikon Jewel, in contrast to Inuyasha and Kagome breaking the cycle. His lack of motivation is actually kind of the point, and I think it's neat as hell! Things got boring once The Baby entered the picture, and I got the sense Rumiko wasn't really sure what to do with Naraku for a while. His style of villainy got a lot more distant and "just as keikaku," when it was the way he got up in everyone's business and pushed their buttons for his own shallow amusement that made me like him in the first place. His fragments aside from Kagura and eventually Kanna were way less interesting, and I think it would've been neat to go more into his role as basically being an abusive dad, but it's fine. The Baby was a fucking boring and atrocious villain though, jfc. The /idea/ of Naraku's own heart rebelling against him was cool enough, but it means jack shit when The Baby is just a bland-ass villain who doesn't remotely represent the character traits that make up Naraku's "heart" in the first place, even aside from Kikyo.

Speaking of which, his fixation on Kikyo is a LOT of fun. Their interactions (which he was apparently secretly into), how he rejected his own humanity and destroyed both himself and the object of his desires, etc. Which is another reason he got less fun after Mt. Hakurei tbh. I fucking hate the way Kikyo's death was handled overall but I liked that he had to reclaim his human heart in order to overwhelm and kill her. That was neat. Something something toxic desire destroying both yourself and the person it's directed at. Then at the very end he realized that his entire existence was completely pointless and empty and his complicated feelings towards Kikyo were the only thing that ever made him actually, like, give a shit. Pour one out for this absolute dumbass. He's a relatable villain because I too would go to absolutely insane lengths to get over a girl I never even dated.

Uhh who else. Sango and Miroku. Sango was my favorite character in the main party. She's the most level-headed of the bunch, has a super cute design, and her story with Kohaku was responsible for a lot of the emotional moments in the series that really landed for me. Her friendship with Kagome was actually super cute and heartfelt. That scene early on where she broke down crying in Kagome's lap because she was scared of being alone again HURT. Also, Kirara is fucking precious. Miroku I've got mixed feelings about, since on the one hand he's a legitimately interesting character and some of his scenes with Sango did hit fairly hard, but DEAR GOD I hate the quirky pervert trope with a burning passion. If it were played seriously, I'd stan him to hell and back a la Adachi. But it isn't, so it's not. I've got mixed feelings about MirSan too. Their resolution was really sweet, but I was kinda like "wha" when Kagome said Sango had a thing for Miroku in the first place. Like, sure okay, but I think more time should've been spent showing her falling for him in the first place lol. Also the butt-grabbing joke got old fast. And when he proposed to her and basically refused to stop flirting with other women I facepalmed so hard. Can't have character growth when you have unfunny running gags! To his credit, he did chill out for the most part, but still kept making jokes about flirting/scoring that clearly made Sango unhappy and I'm like. Why. Then the bit with Hirai-Kotsu needing to be fixed. I liked their mutual resolve to protect each other, but I thought Sango's comment about how she couldn't live without him was..... a bit much. Like what about Kohaku??? But anyway I'm just glad Sango got a happy ending even if I'm still super *SQUINTS* at Miroku.

Sesshoumaru was pretty neat, I get why he's popular, though wasn't really My Type. Sure he's cool, but his /personality/ was a bit lacking and I think we should have gotten some more insight into his relationship with his father for how much focus his quest for the Best Sword got. His development was pretty good, but I've kind of got an issue with how Rin was more of a plot device than a character. Like, okay, one of the reasons I decided to start reading Inuyasha was because the announcement of Yashahime sparked a wave of Sessh/Rin discourse and I wanted to form my own take on it. And, yeah okay I don't like Sessh/Rin either and I say this as a certified Nasty, lmao. Less because it's problematic (though I find it kind of offputting myself, even aged-up) and more because it's bland. Rin has no character whatsoever outside of being a vehicle for his development and I'm REALLY not a fan of girls being objects for male charas' development. Still, I'm not gonna boycott Yashahime if Sessh/Rin is canon or anything. I prefer him with Kagura or even Kikyo but they're dead, so. If Rin has to be his cum dumpster to make this happen, then that's how it's gotta be.

Thats about it I think. I'd put it a rung or two above Naruto in terms of overall quality, but BOY am I still mad abt Kikyo. 6/10 probably wouldn't recommend, but it WAS fun.