#(march the bastard that you are i will romance you)

[blazingflareon]

soooo i got into fields of mistria and i went into the tag (as you do) but ended up queuing a bunch i apologize in advance LMAO

[red-riot-unbreakable-heart]

Shoto Todoroki x Reader | First Kiss ❄️🔥💋 PART 2

Previous Chapter: Part 1 | Next Chapter: Part 3

AO3: Linked Here :)

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Ship: Shoto Todoroki x Fem Reader! 💋

Genre: Fluff, Romance, S*xual Tension, Making Out

CW: MDNI!, A18+, kissing, romance, sexual tension, semi-spicy scenes, lemon

Link to My Master List

Scenes from the afternoon hookup replay in your mind over and over as you sit in the library at a battered old desk in the history section. All you can think about is Shoto’s mouth. And his hands. And his abs!! And his sweet face.

You twiddle your pen in your hand as you try to draft out an essay for class. Unfortunately, every time you try to jot down a few thoughts your mind goes blissfully blank and you remember the tender way he spoke to you.

"How am I going to get anything done now, knowing that you can kiss like this?"

“You’re so beautiful. Your skin is so soft…I never realized how great it would be to touch you.”

“Find me later so we can discuss this.”

You look down at your watch excitedly – 7:55 PM. You eagerly wait for Shoto to appear so the two of you can talk and – with any luck – canoodle amongst the history textbooks. You sit patiently as the time ticks by.

Soon it’s 8:30 PM. You’re not worried, though. Shoto probably assumed you’d want to get some work done first.

9:15 PM rolls around and you start to get worried. You try to distract yourself with school work as doubt creeps into your mind.

10 PM – Shoto still hasn’t showed.

“Shit shit shit.” You check your phone again and again as you wade through the endless wave of homework your teachers have assigned. You keep losing yourself in a math problem or in a passage of your History textbook, only to remember with a jolt that you were expecting to see Shoto and the bastard hasn’t showed.

At 10:30 PM you realize with a sinking feeling that it’s almost past curfew. You pack up your things and prepare to head back to the dorms. There’s a heavy feeling in the pit of your stomach that you can’t shake.

You slide your books into your bag as a anxious thoughts dance through your mind like annoying fruit flies: Does Shoto regret your mid-afternoon hookup? Is he going to pretend it never happened? Did you push him too far? Does he think you’re a slut for stripping off your shirt and basically pressing his face into your naked breasts!? The synapses of your brain jump through dozens of equally horrid and embarrassing scenarios as you march back to your dorm room, blushing furiously with humiliation.

You run through the afternoon’s events in your head for what feels like the hundredth time, trying to find a clue as to why Shoto would have left you waiting alone in the library. Your cheeks burn hotter as you recall the gentle way Shoto had kissed your neck before leaning in to capture your lips in one of his first kisses. "How am I going to get anything done now, knowing that you can kiss like this?" You shiver as you think back to how gentle he was, how each caress felt so loving and intimate.

You shake your head to clear it. Shoto must have a valid excuse for not meeting you in the library as he had promised – no boy could kiss someone that intimately and then instantly cast her aside, right?

Before long, you’re walking through the doors of Class 1A’s dorm building. You shiver with discomfort as you recall how earlier that day you essentially scaled the side of a building for a boy. Does Shoto think you’re an absolute fool with the extremes you went to for a quick make out session? You hope not.

You walk up the stairs and past the common area. You see most of Class 1A studying quietly. Sero, Izuku, Kirishima and Ida sit around one of the kitchen tables reviewing their math homework while some of the girls compare English notes on the couch. To your relief, Shoto isn’t there. Mina waves to you enthusiastically, beckoning you to join her and YaMomo as they review the finer points of Hamlet. You politely decline and make a beeline for your room. You turn the key in the lock and it clicks – within moments, you are blessedly alone.

You toss your heavy book bag to the ground and prepare to wallow in self-pity. It’s 10:56pm and Shoto still hasn’t reached out to you. Your phone is vacant of text messages and your brain is absolutely fried from schoolwork.

You dim your room lights and switch on the favorite fairy lights for some peaceful ambiance. Time for some self-care, bitch! You think resolutely as you swap your uniform for your favorite pair of pajamas. You toss your phone to the floor with abandon and climb into your comfy bed. You breathe in deeply, allowing yourself to revel in the coziness of the dorm room.

You take out your five-minute bullet journal and write a quick list of things you're grateful for: 1. The opportunity to study at UA 2. Your lovely and encouraging friends and classmates 3. Your cozy room and the roof over your head 4. Shoto’s mouth 5. Shoto’s abs 6. Shoto’s goddamn hard AF dick

Um. No.

You snap the journal shut before you get too derailed.

You pull your comforter over your head and sit in silence for a moment. You’ve never been the kind of person to go completely boy-crazy. You always used to make fun of those girls who would go gaga over pretty boys and their texts and their kisses. But as you recall the searing way that Shoto kissed your lips earlier that day, you suddenly understand what all the boy-crazed girly hype was all about. Oh my god. You have a crush. A big sloppy embarrassing crush.

In the silence of your room, you suddenly here a buzzing noise coming from the general direction of your book bag. You struggle to disentangle yourself from your sheets and your journal goes flying. You ignore its crash landing as you slip from your bed and collect your phone from where it lays abandoned on the carpeted floor.

It’s Shoto.

Your heart skips.

Todoroki: Y/N. Are you awake?

You bite your lip, unsure how to respond. Did Shoto just send you his version of “U up?”

Y/N: Yes, I’m still up.

Todoroki: I know it’s late, but can I stop by?

You tense. Oh God – he’s going to come by to tell you that he’s not interested. He’s going to thank you for your time making out and say that you probably should avoid hooking up in the future because it’s a huge distraction. You’re sure that whatever he has to say is going to be negative and leave you feeling embarrassed. Why else would he have skipped out on your rendezvous in the library?

You take a deep breath. You have always been fairly practical with a mind for strategy, two qualities that had really set you apart when you had taken the UA entrance exams. You know that the best course of action here is to rip off the Band-Aid sooner rather than later. Better to know how he feels about your hookup now

Your heart sinks as you type out:

Y/N: Sure, I’ll leave the door unlocked for you. Just come in. Try not to be seen by anyone.

Todoroki: Of course. See you shortly.

Your heart beats double time as you look down at yourself. Your pajama set consists of a silky blue top with matching shorts that don’t leave much to the imagination. You chew on your thumb nervously – should you change into something more appropriate? No – Shoto has seen your boobs. A little bit of leg is not going to kill the half hot half cold hero in training.

You quickly remake your bed and kick your book bag beneath your desk so that the floor is clear. You plop down on your smooth comforter and wait, knotting your hands together as you anticipate Shoto’s arrival.

A few anxious minutes pass, and then you hear gentle footsteps pad down the hallway outside your door. The knob turns quietly, and in a moment Shoto Todoroki steps across your threshold, quietly closing the door behind him. He reaches down to turn the lock with a gentle snap of his wrist.

You take him in – he’s wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a soft white t-shirt. You’ve never seen him dressed so casually before and you assume that these are what he wears as pajamas in the privacy of his own dorm room. His hair is tousled and damp from a recent shower, and the burned side of his face shines where he’s clearly applied some kind of scar cream or moisturizer. His outfit projects a comfy air, but his expression is dark and stormy. Your heartbeat quickens in fear – what could possibly have caused him to be in such a tempestuous mood? Was this about your kissing?

You bite at your lip with worry. But when your eyes lock, his expression softens. In two quick strides, he’s at the bed. He leans in close so that your noses almost touch.

“Hi.” He says softly, before dipping his mouth to meet yours. You blink in surprise as your mouths melt together. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the kiss. Pleasure radiates up and down your spine as you kiss him back. He places both his palms on your hips and pulls you closer, letting out a small moan of satisfaction as he slides his tongue into your mouth. How silly you feel for thinking he didn’t want you like this!

After a few moments, you break apart.

“Hey there.” You whisper, bringing your hands up to cup his beautiful jaw. He leans in to kiss you again and you hold him in place. He stops and looks down at you inquisitively.

“I waited for you in the library, you didn’t show.” You say slowly, softly.

“My father decided to take me through some drills in one of the school’s gyms. I only finished a half hour ago.” His expression becomes dull as he speaks. “I’m sorry to leave you waiting. I wanted to see you - but I’m not allowed on my phone during training.”

Relief must have flooded your features, because he tilts his head to the side questioningly. You hold back a giggle – the way his head is tilted makes him look like a sweet dog asking its owner for a treat.

“What’s wrong?”

You sigh and pull yourself further onto the bed, patting the spot next to you as an invitation. Shoto climbs up next to you, sinking into the deliciously soft fabric. His eyes widen slightly in surprise.

“This is so comfortable.” He says, pressing his palm into the plush fabric beneath him. You recall his sparse traditional bedroom and realize that he’s never laid on a proper puffy mattress before.

“Hold on – it gets better.” You say pushing him off the bed so you can pull down the covers. You slip beneath the comforter and gesture for him to rejoin you. He climbs in clumsily, unsure how to position himself within the sheets. You prop a pillow beneath his shoulders as he lays down on his side. You toss the comforter over the two of you and lay across from him, feet almost touching beneath the warm layers of bedding.

“Cozy?” You ask as Shoto settles into the bed.

“Yeah.” He says in quiet voice, propping himself up on an elbow. “I always thought beds like this were excessive but…maybe there’s some merit to this.” He eyes a blue Squirtle plush that sits next to you in the bed. “Can I…hold that?”

You grin, biting back a laugh as you reach over to grab the Pokémon plush. “This is Squirtle – he’s one of my favorite plushies.” You hold up the stuffed animal and wiggle it in front of Shoto’s eyes as if it’s dancing. “Squirtle, Squirtle” you say in a low tone, trying to emulate the television character’s voice the best you can.

Shoto gives you a weird look. “I don’t get it. Why are you just repeating its name in a strange voice?”

“Shoto…have you…have never seen Pokémon!?” You almost screech in disbelief, before throwing a hand over your mouth to quiet yourself. You quickly remember that you are in the dorms and the walls aren’t super thick.

“No, I wasn’t allowed to watch television unless it was about Pro hero work.” Shoto says, a tinge of sadness flowing along with his words. “But it looks cute and round and I really just want to hold it and squish it?”

“Yeah, that’s the general reaction to plushies. Dude, we need to get you that whale pillow you liked on Pinterest. You need more cuteness in your life.”

“Well I have you, don’t I?” Shoto smiles softly. “You bring more than enough cute into my life.” He reaches out and grabs the plush from your hands and squishes it a bit. “But this is pretty nice, too.”

Your face grows hot at the compliment. Shoto tucks the Squirtle under his arm and shifts around in the sheets until he finds a comfortable position. He looks adorable and soft as he cradles the bright plush in his strong, muscular hands.

When he finally settles in, he looks up at you enquiringly. “What’s wrong?” He repeats, looping you both back to the conversation form earlier.

“So…” You sigh with embarrassment. “When you didn’t show up and I didn’t hear from you…” You pause and Shoto gives Squirtle a squeeze. “I thought you didn’t want to see me again. Or at least that you didn’t want to make out with me again.”

“Oh.” Shoto wasn’t expecting this. “I thought I made it very clear how…enthusiastically…I enjoyed our time together this afternoon. I didn’t realize I had left any room for you to question my attraction to you.”

“That’s nice to hear…but when you didn’t show at the library or send a text, I assumed the worst. My mind kind of went into full-blown panic mode. I thought maybe once you had time to reflect on our hookup, that you realized you didn’t like it or that you didn’t really like me. To be perfectly honest, I’ve never felt that way before. Usually something like this wouldn’t bother me.” You take a deep, steadying breath. “But I think I really like you and want to be close to you, and the thought that you might not feel the same was tearing me apart for the last couple of hours.”

The words come tumbling from your mouth before you can stop and think them through. Why are you saying all of this!? Why does being around Shoto make you feel so comfortable and open to sharing? It’s so weird – and you’re absolutely sure he’s going to think you’re some kind of over sharing freak for telling him all of this.

Shoto looks at you thoughtfully for a long moment before speaking. “Something I have always admired about you is your ability to be straightforward about what you’re thinking and feeling. Most people aren’t like that, and I have a hard time navigating more subtle situations. Thank you for telling me exactly what you’re thinking – I value it so much.” He runs a hand through his slightly damp hair, moving the bangs out of his bright eyes.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I had abandoned you. I wanted to come to the library so badly. I want to kiss you so badly – it’s all I’ve been thinking about tonight.” His voice is so earnest that you believe him.

“Let me match your honesty with some of my own - my father is extremely strict. Ever since I was born, he’s pushed me to be better. To be stronger. He wants me to surpass him. He wants me to take All Might’s place as the number one hero.”

You gasp at this. Of course you knew that Todoroki was ambitious, but this…

“I don’t have any intentions of becoming harsh and cruel like my father. I’m not even sure if I want to go for the top spot on the hero charts.” He admits, almost bitterly. “That’s the path that my father has laid out for me. He’s obsessed with my training. With my ‘potential.’ But he doesn’t seem to give a fuck about how I feel. Excuse my language.” Shoto looks so sad, so despairing. He hugs the plush close, his chin tucked into his chest as he continues.

“I just want to help people and make them smile – just like All Might. But my old man just doesn’t seem to get that. Today, when he noticed how distracted I was… he didn’t ask if something was wrong. He just pushed me even harder.” Shoto avoids your gaze. “I think he purposefully pushed me to train into the night to keep me from meeting up with you. In his eyes…you’re a huge distraction for his prized creation.”

Suddenly you notice how exhausted Shoto looks – there are pale bags beneath his eyes. You scan his body and see light bruises beginning to form on the exposed skin of his arms. You wonder - just what kind of training has Endeavor been subjecting him to?

You had never guessed that behind Shoto’s calm and collected exterior, there is just a normal teenage boy trying desperately to please his father, while simultaneously trying to defy him. The whole relationship seems complicated and messy and you’re sure what Shoto is telling you is only the tip of a chaotic Todoroki family dynamic iceberg.

“Oh, Shoto.” You say softly. You scoot forward and wrap your arms around him. He freezes, unsure of what to do but nevertheless comforted by the sudden closeness. You reach behind him and card your fingers through his hair. You see goose bumps emerge across his skin, and realize that he likely hasn’t been touched this way before.

“Is it okay to touch you like this?” You whisper.

He breathes out a shaky “yes” as he moves to toss the Squirtle plush to the floor. Once his arms are free, he works to wrap them around you. He rests one strong hand on your back and slings the other around your delicate waist. He draws you close to him and holds you tightly as you continue to run your fingers softly through his two-toned hair.

He’s silent as he buries his head into your shoulder. There’s an emotion that’s radiating off of his body that you can’t quite place – sadness? Frustration? Maybe even relief? After a few moments of running your fingers through his hair and gently up and down his back, he finally starts to relax. The tense muscles in his shoulders loosen, and he seems to come back to himself.

“I’m sorry Y/N.” He whispers, muffled as he turns his face into the crook of your neck. “I’m not great at expressing my emotions. I can try to put it into words…I’m feeling so weighed down right now.”

“Because of your father’s expectations?” You prompt, running a light fingertip down his spine. He shivers a bit in response, but not in an unpleasant way.

“Sometimes I wonder if he sees me as a real person, as a son. Or am I just his big project?” Shoto wonders aloud, his voice a bit strained. You feel his eyelashes flutter against the sensitive skin beneath your jawline.

“Shoto...that sounds like a lot to carry. You’re just a high school student – your father shouldn’t be putting that kind of pressure on you. It’s not normal.” You tuck a lock of red hair behind his porcelain ear. “This situation sounds so complicated. It’s no wonder you feel so conflicted. I’m here any time you need a friendly ear to listen as you work through it.” You continue to caress him softly over his clothes. He begins to lean into your touch hungrily. “But right now – at this moment – you’re safe. In this room, in my arms, you don’t need to hold other people’s expectations of you in your heart. When you’re with me, I want you to feel that you can just be Shoto.”

You still your fingers as you let your words sink in. Shoto is radiating a deep sort of sadness that you wish you could smooth away with your fingertips.

“Thank you.” He says, his voice breaking a tiny bit as he processes your words. After a few beats Shoto exhales deeply, his breath ruffles your hair. “I’m not used to talking about these things. Actually, I’m not really used to talking much at all. Or being touched.” You can feel the blush on his delicate cheeks warm the skin of your neck.

“I can tell.” You say before you can stop yourself. To your surprise, he chuckles.

“I don’t know why it’s so easy to do these things with you – talking, touching…kissing.” He lifts his head off of your shoulder to look you square in the face. “There’s something about you…”

Suddenly, the room feels as if it’s charged with Denki’s electrification quirk as his bright mismatched eyes meet your own.

“I think I’d like to continue exploring this with you.” He says matter-of-factly, moving his legs to intertwine with yours.

“W-what does that mean?” Your breath catches in your throat as he dips forward to kiss down your neck.

“It means…I want to keep doing this. Kissing. Talking. I suppose I want to keep getting to know you like this? Intimately.” He places a soft kiss in the hollow behind your earlobe. “Would you like that as well?”

“Yes.” You breathe, with zero hesitation. He smiles into your neck before running the edges of his teeth lightly across your smooth skin. You let out a soft moan in response.

“Good. Then we’ll figure this out together.” He moves to kiss your cheek soundly before releasing you from his embrace. “But right now it’s well past midnight, and we both need our sleep if we’re going to continue to be top of our class alongside YaMomo and Ida. If we both let our grades slip, it might tip people off.” He moves to get off the bed.

“Hey – wait!” You grab his arm and pull him back under the covers. “I have no problem with you staying here for the night.”

“But wouldn’t that be inappropriate?” Shoto’s face reddens, but he lets himself be drawn back into your gentle embrace.

“Would it be anymore inappropriate than you making out with my tits?” Shoto’s face burns an even brighter red at this question, but he also looks quite pleased with himself (you assume he’s recalling the way he kissed down your breasts earlier that day as he smirks). “Sharing a bed should be perfectly responsible as long as we keep all of our clothes on. You said you want to explore? Well get over here and let’s figure out if you make a good big spoon.”

This earns one of those rare full smiles from Shoto – he practically glows. “Alright.”

He pulls himself close to you. You reach above your head and switch off the string lights that wind their way around your room, and the tiny dorm fills with darkness.

You turn to face the wall and scoot your body back until you feel Shoto’s solid warmth. He reaches around to pull you close until bodies are touching, flush together. You tuck yourself into Shoto’s warm, muscular body and sigh with contentment.

“So do I make a good big spoon?” He questions, tentatively nuzzling his face into your hair and inhaling deeply. “Mmm, your hair smells like lavender.”

“We’ll need plenty of practice to truly ascertain the full range of your spooning abilities.” You say in a faux-academic voice, causing him to snort out a laugh. “But so far you’re doing great.”

You interlock your legs and pull his strong arms around you. You wiggle a bit as you try to find the comfiest spot in the mattress. You unintentionally grind a bit against Shoto and jolt when you feel something hard pressed against the curve of your ass.

“Sorry.” He mutters softly, embarrassed.

“Maybe I’ll take care of that for you tomorrow.” You yawn as you close your eyes and settle in for a good night’s rest. You grin into the darkness as you feel Shoto’s dick get even harder as he mulls over your response, wondering at what you could possibly mean by “take care of that.”

You didn’t realize you were so tired. You’re dimly aware of Shoto’s breathing growing slow as he drifts off into a comfortable sleep. You smile softly to yourself as you slide further into his embrace. This poor, touch-starved boy has been through so many terrible things and your heart aches for him.

Even in sleep he’s tense, his jawline stiff and his muscles almost locked around you. But he’s warm and soft and smells like jasmine and mint tea. You hope that for the next few hours you can provide him with a safe harbor to rest and escape his troubles. You let your eyes flutter close and breathe in deeply, dreaming of Shoto’s sweet face as you fall gently into sleep’s embrace.

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

Part 3

Previous Chapter: Part 1 | Next Chapter: Part 3

🔥 Link to My Master List 🔥

[1-have-no-idea]

as long as you’re next to me, just the two of us,

Character(s): Rex, reader

Genre: angst, comfort, romance

Overview: Order 66 took everything from everyone, and it took you from Rex. You were lost, but Rex knew you were still out there, and he wouldn’t stop trying until he found you and you were in his arms once again.

Warning(s): Just really angsty, but it ends in a comforting note-, brief language (in Mando’a and basic)

1389 words

———————————————————————————

Order 66 ruined everything. Everyone knows that. It ruined relationships, tore loved ones away… for the clones, Order 66 took away everything they’ve ever known. The Republic? Broken. Corrupted. Known as the Empire, now. Their generals? Their Jedi? They’re gone. Most dead, others in hiding. Their brothers? Well, they were scattered across the galaxy. Some dead, others traitors, others not even the same. They lost everything. Rex lost everything. Once a captain of many and a trusted friend, now in his lonesome and in hiding. But do you know what else he lost that almost all clones didn’t have?

Rex lost you.

His love. His angel. His life. His woman. His cyar’ika.

And kriff, did he miss you. Words could not explain the anguish he had felt when the order was released, when he was aware once again and remembered you were out there, somewhere. Without him, his protection, by yourself… Rex could only pray to whatever higher being there was in this god-forsaken galaxy that you were safe, that maybe you were hiding like him. If you weren’t, then Rex… Rex didn’t like to think about that. But he knew you were out there. Somewhere, across the stars, somewhere in this vast galaxy.

And by the Maker, he would find you. Even if it cost him his life. He would find you.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

“Cyar’ika…”

Rex held his comm to his mouth as he spoke, slumped against the wall. It had been a couple of weeks since he had gone into hiding. He believed it had been maybe three? There’s twenty-one days in three weeks. There’s twenty-four hours in a day. At least on this planet. He would call at least every ten hours. That’s two calls every day. That’s forty-two missed calls.

“I just wanted to see how my girl’s doin’.” He elaborated, a bittersweet smile on his lips as he sat in the slowly brightening alley. “I’m getting by. Just surviving, right now. None of my brothers recognize me. The imperials are always lurking around every corner. I can finally relate to how the Jedi feel. These cloaks weren’t ever really meant for someone like me.” He continued, a little humorless laugh escaping him, trying to lighten the mood. He didn’t know why, you weren’t even on the call. He just wanted to leave a message. He just wanted you to know he was still up and kicking, because he was a stubborn bastard who refused to die.

“These times are hard, I know, mesh’la, but you just are gonna have to hang on tight for me, yeah? I’m coming. I’m gonna find you. I promise you that.” And Maker, he tried to keep that waver out of his voice, but he was really tired right now. He was just… he was really tired. He closed his eyes, bringing a gloved hand up and scrubbing at his worn face, before speaking again. “I miss you. A lot. But I know you’re out there, somewhere, and I swear to the Force, sweet girl, I will find you and we’ll be together again.” He declared with determination, jaw clenching as he promised those words to you. “S’just me and you against the galaxy, Name. Just me and you against the galaxy.” He breathed out, before looking around the alley, hearing the heavy footfall of the imperial’s boots and the marching of his brothers. Ah. It was time. Taking a deep breath in, he sighed through his nose before whispering to you one last time before hanging up.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, cyare.”

Forty-three missed calls.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

It was warm.

Really warm.

Soft hands moved to cradle Rex’s face, thumbs smoothing out the captain’s worry lines and the furrow of his brow. Then soft lips pressed against it. A hushed whisper, then two—

‘Five more minutes, love. We’re on vacation,’

‘Baby, I have to make breakfast,’

And he’d kiss you to shut you up, hold onto you a little longer and you both would fall back asleep while being embraced. He would’ve held on longer and tighter if he knew it’d come to this. He would’ve held on so tight, that maybe you’d be with him now.

The clone woke up in a confused daze, blinking the blurriness out of his eyes as he looked around for you— oh. He was alone in a bed meant for two. It was just a dream. You weren’t really here. You were still gone. That realization made Rex want to sob. His heart fell to his stomach, and it felt as if his own soul had been torn out of his body. He felt so hollow. Where are you, my sweet girl?

Slowly, sluggishly, Rex moved to grab one of the pillows on the other side of the bed, before tugging it to him. His arms circled around the inanimate object, face burying into it as he hugged it to him. The pillow was cold. You would’ve been warm. And if you weren’t, he would’ve warmed you up. You were more firm. Something that he could feel, because you’d be breathing and he would’ve heard your soft snores. This pillow wasn’t you. It wasn’t. It was an inanimate object. Not you.

…so why was he trying to pretend it was?

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

It had been months. Months, now. And yet Rex had never stopped looking.

He was still in hiding, though. Had been for too long. Well, he was. Now he was currently trying to help Echo find more clones and bring them in to join the Rebellion, or to at least give them a life that they wanted. Currently, however, he was being chased down by a bunch of imperials who happened to spot him. He swerved into another alley, before jumping over a bunch of boxes that were being shipped out to another planet.

In the adrenaline rush of that moment, he failed to notice the person who was hiding behind those boxes, and crashed into them before tumbling to the ground with them. A cry of pain left the other, and Rex groaned, about to rush off before glancing at the other. He bit his lip in conflict, before moving towards them and extending a hand. “I’m sorry. Are you okay?” He asked, noticing how the person wasn’t an imperial. Or so he thought. He was being reckless right now.

Until they took his hand and looked up at him.

Oh. Oh.

“Name–” “Rex–?”

It was you. It was really you. More exhausted and burnt out looking, but so was he. Your hair had gotten longer. You had dark circles, but you looked absolutely beautiful to him. Rex’s mouth dropped as he struggled to make words, before something akin to a choked sob left him and he crashed into him, and didn’t you respond with just as much enthusiasm. Your arms immediately wrapped around his shoulders and you gasped, one hand cradling the back of his head. His arms wrapped around your waist, his hands scrambling to hold at the back of your shirt while he embraced you, finally remembering what you felt like in his arms. “Oh, Maker–” he gasped out, pulling away to cup your face in his hands, gasping like he didn’t know how to breathe. “I found you– I’ve finally found you–”

“I- I thought you and your brothers–” you stammered, and he shook his head. “Chips— we have chips, I got mine removed, I just–” he cut himself off, before slamming his lips to yours. Conveying his worry, his fear, his determination, his longing, how he missed you, how much he loved you, you responded eagerly, holding the back of his head, before the two of you parted, breathless laughs leaving you. Rex grinned, tears in his eyes as he held you. “Oh, how I’ve missed that,” he commented, and you smiled. “I’ve missed you,” you responded, and Rex was about to reply until he remembered that you two were running.

Helping you up, he held your hand, and for once, he felt whole again. “C’mon, cyar’ika. Us against the galaxy. Just the two of us.” He murmured, and you nodded. “You can say that again.” You sighed out. You could cry and love in private later. But right now? You had to run, once again. This time together.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, cyare.”

“I love you too, Rex.”

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 11 - And Felt The Pulse Beat Fast

Summary: Arthur and Hosea share meaningful conversation after a night of advertising some moonshine. Meanwhile Kate finds herself involved in a dubious mission with John and the boys. She patches up Arthur as the day ends with an air of unspoken desire.

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TW: Brief mention of suicide, body image issues, eating disorder. Period typical racism.

A/N: Another long one, ~8k words. The end had me giggling and kicking my feet. I hope you enjoy! Comments and criticism are always welcome :)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig **please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Widowed, Original Character(s), High-Honor!Arthur Morgan, Arthur Morgan Does Not Have Tuberculosis, Arthur Morgan Deserves Happiness, Chubby!Arthur Morgan, Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Eventual Smut, Eventual Sex, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort,Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Child Loss, Infant Death, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Slow Burn, Torture, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Aftermath of Torture, Caretaking, Injury Recovery, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Self-Hatred, Night Terrors, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Bathing/Washing, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Kate and I met this strange young bastard, Beau, and his forbidden love Penelope. Poor kids are just lookin’ for freedom but they’re stuck in some old family feud they ain’t even a part of. We delivered some letters for them, Kate insisted on it. I  gave her grief about it at first, but she was determined to go out of her way for these kids. Woman’s got a heart of gold.

Somehow, I ended up marching as a suffragette, the looks of loathing on the face of the locals amused me. I don’t know much about good causes, but I enjoyed my little experience riding alongside them. Kate showed me there’s more than one path, she chose to do the right thing and we still managed to gather some useful information. 

She makes my head dizzy sometimes, this woman. Came right out and asked to kiss me again! I choked up bad. She’s always speaking her mind, like she ain’t afraid of nothing. I love that about her. I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn’t. I just can not do that to her. She’s been through too much already, and she deserves a good man. 

And I don’t deserve that kinda happiness. 

Arthur woke the next morning with a heavy weight on his chest, the remnants of a sleepless night etched into the lines of his weary face. Kate's tender words echoed in his mind like a haunting melody, refusing to fade with the dawn. No one had spoken to him with such honesty and vulnerability in ages, and Arthur couldn't shake the memory of disappointment flickering in Kate's eyes when he couldn't reciprocate her feelings. As much as his heart longed to kiss and hold her again. 

As he lay there, Arthur's thoughts drifted back to Mary, the woman he once loved. He recalled the night he proposed to her, the anticipation heavy in the air, only to be met with the sting of rejection. Mary wanted him to leave behind his life of danger, to embrace a quieter existence with her, far from the chaos of the gang. Arthur understood her desire for simplicity, but he couldn't abandon the gang; the family that needed him. He pleaded with Mary to join him, but she refused, unwilling to sever ties with her own family, especially her younger brother.

Now, years later, Arthur felt he had strayed too far down a path of darkness to ever deserve happiness again. The memory of Mary's rejection lingered as a painful reminder of his inability to change, to be the man she needed. He believed himself beyond redemption, resigned to a life devoid of the joy he once craved.

To his surprise, Kate appeared unfazed by Arthur's refusal the previous night. She greeted him in the morning with her usual warmth, as if their conversation had not left a lingering tension between them. They shared breakfast together, engaging in easy conversation that helped ease some of the weight on Arthur's shoulders. Kate mentioned that she had already discussed their findings with Hosea, who wanted to meet with Arthur later that evening regarding a potential job at the Braithwaite estate.

Her calm demeanor brought Arthur a sense of comfort amid his inner turmoil. As they finished their meal, Kate gracefully excused herself to resume her tasks with the other girls. She promised to join him for dinner as usual, maintaining their routine without skipping a beat. Arthur watched her go about her duties with a mixture of admiration and gratitude. Despite his fears of pushing her away, Kate seemed to understand. And didn’t think ill of him for it. 

As the day unfolded, Arthur found himself immersed in a job orchestrated by Uncle—an opportunity to stage a simple yet lucrative payroll robbery. He teamed up with Charles and together they executed the heist with precision. The stagecoach robbery went off without a hitch, yielding a substantial sum that brought a brief sense of satisfaction to Arthur, feeling like a proper thief he was raised to be.

As the sun began its descent, Arthur sought out Hosea near the hidden stash of stolen moonshine. He detailed his failed attempt to sell back the stolen moonshine to the Braithwaites. Hosea recounted how they had approached the Braithwaite matriarch with an offer, only to be met with a cold rejection. The old woman haughtily declared that they deserved no reward for returning what she considered rightfully hers. Instead, in a spiteful act of retribution, she offered a meager ten dollars to distribute the moonshine for free at Mr. Gray's saloon.

Arthur was puzzled by the Braithwaite's response. Hosea clarified that it was a calculated move—a means of exacting revenge on the Grays and the town drunks. By turning the intoxicated patrons into even greater fools for the night, the Braithwaites hoped to incite chaos and leave Sheriff Gray to deal with the ensuing fallout.

Amidst the chaos of the moonshine-fueled night at Mr. Gray's saloon, Arthur assumed his familiar role as "Fenton," a persona he had adopted in previous schemes alongside Hosea. The act required him to play the part of Hosea’s younger idiot brother, who also happened to be mute. His only job was keeping glasses filled without uttering a single word. Though Arthur despised the charade, he couldn't suppress a chuckle at the absurdity of their antics—the lengths they would go to for a successful heist.

Draped in the guise of Fenton, Arthur navigated the rowdy patrons, handing out moonshine liberally as the atmosphere inside the saloon grew increasingly raucous. The scene was a stark reminder of earlier days, when he and Hosea were younger and life seemed simpler, despite the risks they took.

As the night wore on, the situation escalated when Sheriff Gray himself appeared, prompting Hosea and Arthur to spring into action. Shots rang out, echoing through the old saloon as lawmen pursued them. With practiced ease, they slipped through the back door, disappearing into the shadows and swiftly making their way to the waiting wagon. In the chaos that ensued, Arthur expertly handled their pursuers while Hosea skillfully guided the reins.

A small shootout erupted as the Grays chased them through the winding back roads and fields leading out of Rhodes. Arthur remained focused, taking down their adversaries while Hosea expertly navigated the terrain. The tension was palpable, the thrill of the night's escapade mingling with the danger of their flight.

Approaching the train tracks, Arthur spotted a train. With precise timing, they crossed just as the locomotive barreled through, cutting off their pursuers. The lawmen were left stranded on the other side, unable to follow.

Once they were safely beyond reach, away from the danger that had pursued them, laughter erupted between Arthur and Hosea. It was a release of pent-up tension, the adrenaline-fueled joy of a successful escape mingling with the shared camaraderie of outlaws.

“Remind me to never take up a career in…what was it? Bartending,” Arthur chuckled, glancing back at the remaining clinking bottles they were unable to distribute.

“I didn’t know they’d throw so much of a fuss over booze, this town is odd,” Hosea answered, shaking his head as he cracked the reins of the wagon.

Arthur furrowed his brow, considering the surplus moonshine. “What should we do with all the shine we still have left?”

Hosea’s expression turned grim. “That miserable Braithewaite woman wants us to burn the Grays' tobacco fields with it, I was hoping you and Sean could handle that tomorrow night.” 

“Damn, ain’t that makin’ a bit too much noise? I thought we were tryin’ to lay low in all this. These fellas may be drunks and racists, but they ain’t afraid to kill, you saw them back there,” Arthur expressed his concern.

Hosea sighed, revealing a hint of hesitation. “Dutch thinks there's money in this somewhere. His plan is to get them all riled up on each other and use that as an opportunity to slip in and rob ‘em.”

Arthur fell silent, contemplating the dangerous path they were treading by getting involved in a longstanding blood feud. “Things could get real ugly, Hosea. Do you really think one of these families is sitting on a pile of money?”

“Can’t say. But the cash box is getting full again, Arthur. We’ve been doing well on making money. With just a bit more cash, we’ll be out of here,” Hosea replied, injecting a note of hope into the conversation. Sensing Arthur's unease, he changed the subject. “Kate told me about your adventures yesterday. How are things going between you two?”

As their wagon rattled down the road, illuminated by the soft glow of the full moon, Arthur felt a sense of comfort settle over him. He glanced over at Hosea, his trusted father figure, and knew that he could confide in him about anything. The old man had a way of understanding Arthur's thoughts and feelings without needing them spelled out.

Arthur shifted uneasily in his seat, rubbing his palms together nervously, the words weighing heavily on his mind. It wouldn't escape Hosea's notice that Arthur was quite sweet on Kate. After all, it had been Hosea's idea to pair them up for the day, hoping to give Arthur a chance to spend time with her away from the group.

“I kissed her the other night, when she was singin’ a lullaby for Jack,” Arthur began, the words spilling out into the night air like a secret long kept.“She… she wanted to kiss me again today and, I really wanted to, but I had to let her down easy,”  He glanced over at Hosea, seeking some semblance of understanding in the old man's eyes.

Hosea raised an eyebrow in surprise, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “You kissed her and ditched her? I thought I raised you better, son,” he teased, his tone light but laced with curiosity.

Arthur chuckled, though there was a tinge of self-deprecation in his amusement. “I know, I’m dumber than a bag of rocks.”

Hosea patted Arthur's shoulder reassuringly, his touch grounding. “You may be good at playing an idiot like Fenton,” he remarked, referencing their recent job, “but you’re a smart boy. What harm could come if you just let it happen and see where it takes you?”

With a heavy sigh, Arthur leaned back in the seat, his gaze drifting up to the blinking stars above, memories of Kate’s confession flooding his thoughts. “I just don’t wanna hurt her. And… I don’t wanna feel that kinda hurt again.”

Nodding in understanding, Hosea's expression softened with a paternal concern for the young cowboy. “I’m not gonna live forever, son. I’d just like to see you be happy with someone before I go.”

“I was happy once. I had a woman who loved me, and she left me because I couldn’t change for her.” Arthur admitted, his voice giving away the deep sorrow he still harbored about his young love. 

“Mary was a good woman, I did like her. You were both so young and naive, still navigating your own lives,” Hosea mused, his voice carrying the weight of hindsight. His gaze softened with memories. “But I don’t think she was the right one for you. She couldn’t tame that wild heart of yours.”

Arthur listened, his eyes fixed on the road ahead, the wagon jostling over uneven terrain. “Sometimes, I feel like I can’t even tame it myself,” he confessed, his tone tinged with resignation.

Hosea's eyes twinkled with a knowing glint. “That's why you need someone strong enough to stand in the ring with you,” he remarked, his voice brimming with wisdom, “and face down the beast with a heart just as wild.”

Arthur nodded slowly, the words sinking in like stones dropped into a still pond. He mulled over Hosea's advice, feeling the weight of his own heart's desires. The night enveloped them in a cocoon of shared understanding, the stars above bearing witness to their quiet contemplation.

Arthur’s confession hung heavy in the air, his words weighed down by the burden of his past. “Once she knows what I’ve done, I don’t think she can forgive me for it,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, like a man confessing his sins.

Hosea let out a light scoff, his eyes bright with a hint of amusement. “Son, your bounty has been posted in almost every town in the west,” he remarked wryly. “She knows we’re outlaws, I think she’s probably aware you’ve killed some folk.”

Shaking his head slowly, Arthur gathered his thoughts, his gaze fixed on the horizon ahead. “No, no it ain’t that,” he muttered, his words heavy with hesitation. Taking a deep breath, he continued, “Kate told me ‘bout her family, how they all passed from accidents or disease. She even had to bury her own daughter. I just…” His voice trailed off, grappling with the weight of his own truth. “I just don’t know how to tell her about my own. About my son, Isaac. Or Eliza.”

Hosea leaned back against the wagon’s seat, his expression thoughtful. “What’s stopping you from telling her? That’s something you two have in common,” he pointed out gently.

“Because I–I can’t tell her I’m the reason they’re dead,” Arthur confessed, his voice thick with emotion. “Family means so much to her, she’d never forgive me for throwing it away.”

The old man regarded Arthur with a mixture of sympathy and understanding. “Son, if you’re so worried about her turning the other cheek on you, I think you need to tell her the truth,” Hosea advised, his tone earnest. “She’s going to find out eventually, and you know she’s a smart woman. She understands what you are and still chooses to be by your side. And I’d be surprised if she draws the line at something that happened in the past. You're too hard on yourself, Arthur. What happened to Eliza and Isaac was terrible, but it was not your fault.”

Arthur rarely spoke about his son, Isaac, even with Hosea, his closest confidant. The weight of their deaths bore heavily on his heart, like an anchor dragging him into the depths of guilt and regret. Isaac's passing had transformed Arthur into a different man, one hardened by grief and the burden of responsibility.

Hosea had witnessed the change in Arthur firsthand. Before the tragedy that befell Eliza and Isaac, Arthur was more carefree, with a spark of youthful innocence in his eyes. But as time wore on, a darkness crept into his demeanor, a shadow that never quite lifted. He carried their deaths like a scar, a permanent mark etched upon his soul.

In moments of vulnerability, Arthur would let slip glimpses of his sorrow, revealing the cracks in his stoic facade. He blamed himself for their deaths, convinced that if he had been a better man, a different man, things might have turned out differently. It was a burden he carried alone, tucked away behind layers of bravado and hardened resolve.

Hosea understood the depth of Arthur's pain, but he also recognized the resilience that lay beneath. Arthur's reluctance to share his grief spoke volumes about the depth of his sorrow. It was a wound that time could not heal, a wound that had shaped the man Arthur had become.

As the wagon turned down the familiar winding road that led to their camp, the night's chorus surrounded them with the faint hum of a crackling fire and the warm glow as it cast dancing shadows across the clearing.

Arthur broke the moment of silence, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "I should’ve been there for them, Pa," he confessed, his eyes fixed on the dark silhouette of the trees passing by.

Hosea sighed, the years etched into the lines of his face. "Yes, son, but life has a way of throwing us off course, even when we try our best," he replied, his voice carrying the weight of wisdom earned through hardship. "This world can be cruel, as you well know."

"I can’t be a bad man and expect good things like Kate to happen to me. It just don’t work that way," Arthur continued, his words laced with self-doubt.

Hosea placed a reassuring hand on Arthur's shoulder, his touch a welcome comfort. "Kate sees something good in you, son," his tone was gentle yet firm. "Maybe it's time you started seeing it too."

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Kate scrubbed diligently, the soap creating frothy suds as she ran the bar along the stretched cotton over the washboard. She sat on a small stool in the shade beneath a sprawling tree, her trousers dotted with darkened spots from the splashing water. The air was heavy with heat, but the coolness of the water in the small washtub offered a brief respite. With each steady motion, her fingers became slightly more pruned from the repeated immersion.

Beside her, Mary-Beth was busy ringing out the soapy cloth and dipping it into a clean bucket, the rhythmic process mirroring Kate's own. The girls found solace in their shared task, engaged in easy conversation to while away the chore.

“So,” Kate began, a mischievous glint in her eye, “I saw you talking to Kieran the other day. Want to spill the beans on what’s really going on there?” She nudged Mary-Beth playfully with her knee.

The young girl looked down, a faint blush tinting her cheeks as she tried to hide her face from Kate's teasing gaze. “He was just curious about the book I was reading, that’s all,” she admitted bashfully, her voice carrying a hint of embarrassment.

Kate knew Mary-Beth's romantic tendencies well. From the moment they met, it was clear that she had a penchant for love affairs and romantic tales—her nose buried in romance novels and dreams of penning her own someday.

“That’s all?” Kate teased, a playful glint in her eye. “I see you watching him groom those horses every day. Somebody's got eyes for the O’Driscoll boy,” she added, splashing a bit of water in jest.

Mary-Beth retaliated with a laugh, “He ain’t an O’Driscoll!” Her grin gave away any attempt at concealing her feelings. She glanced over towards the horses, and Kate followed her gaze to where Kieran Duffy was tending to the animals. “He’s been talkin’ to me a lot recently. I just think he’s sweet.”

Kate's eyes lingered on the scene, noticing Lenny and Javier saddling their horses nearby, while John caught her gaze as he approached them.

Just as Kate was about to respond, John called out to her, “Kate! You busy right now?”

She looked up, eyes squinting as the sun glowed behind his frame. She gestured with open palms towards the wash bin. “You need somethin’?” she asked.

John tipped his hat to Mary-Beth, who waved politely in return. “We’re heading out to the Braithwaite manor to check out some horses. Thought you might wanna come,” he explained, nodding back to where Lenny and Javier were waiting.

Kate chuckled, her tone lighthearted. “You plan on stealing them or something?”

John crossed his arms casually, “well, you know,” he trailed, “if the opportunity presents itself.” Not bothering to hide their dubious intentions. Kate has to remind herself sometimes that she is running with outlaws. For them, a job doesn't mean checking out the goods, it means stealing goods. 

He cleared his throat and explained the situation seriously, “some fella from the Gray family told us he’d pay to have their horses stolen. Also mentioned they go for $1000 a piece.”

Kate raised a brow of suspicion, “and you believe him?” 

John only shrugged, “it's worth looking into.”

She waved him off with a touch of concern, “I don’t want no trouble John, I’m sure you boys will manage fine without me.” 

John persisted, his voice reassuring. “It won’t be no trouble at all. We’ll be in and out, they won’t even know we’re there,” he said, adding an enticing detail, “word is they got some pretty nice gypsy horses. Real purebreds too.”

Kate found herself caught in the web of temptation. Stealing horses was not something she relished, but the promise of seeing such a purebred up close was alluring. If they pulled it off successfully, she knew the money would help the gang alot. She figured it wouldn't be so bad to help them in one little heist. 

As if Mary-Beth could sense her conflicting ideas, she interrupted the silence, "I can finish up here, Kate. You should go. They'll have a better chance of pulling it off with you." She winked knowingly, seeming to support Kate's unspoken decision.

She made up her mind, fixing John with a pointed look. "No trouble," she repeated firmly, more as a command than a question.

"No trouble," John assured her with a nod of understanding.

Kate wiped her damp arms across her shirt, bidding Mary-Beth farewell and promising to catch up with her later. As she approached her midnight mare, the horse whinnied in recognition, sensing the upcoming adventure. Javier and Lenny greeted her from their saddles, both looking ready for action.

Javier tipped his hat with a charming smile. "Nice of you to join us, cariño," he said, his tone warm and inviting.

Kate swiftly mounted her horse, adjusting herself in the saddle. "You boys better hope this goes smoothly," she remarked with a playful smirk, her eyes scanning the group with a hint of caution.

Lenny rode his stallion closer to Kate's, "I gotta say, having you with us doubles our luck, don't you think?" he replied, his tone light-hearted but with an underlying sense of confidence.

She smiled fondly. Together the four of them took off down the lush green path and onto the dirt road. Kate was glad for the invitation, it made her feel good that the gang trusted her enough to include her in such tasks, that they were confident in her ability to work alongside them. She felt a new sense of trust among them, and camaraderie. She felt like she was becoming a real member, and not just some lone traveler like she had been nearly a month ago. 

The journey to the Braithwaite manor was uneventful, the cool breeze of the afternoon air was refreshing against their skin as they rode. As they arrived at the manor from the south side, away from the prying gaze of the property guards. The grand estate loomed before them, a testament to the family's wealth and power. They dismounted their horses in a secluded spot, ensuring they wouldn't draw too much attention.

Kate's mind wandered briefly, wondering if Penelope would be out in her gazebo enjoying the afternoon sun. 

John's voice interrupted her thoughts, his tone matter-of-fact as he laid out the plan. "Let's keep this nice and easy. No need to rush. We're here on behalf of a buyer, looking to make a significant investment," he explained as they followed him toward the barn.

Outside the stable doors, a worker paused in his tasks, eyeing them with suspicion. "Can I help you fellas?" he asked, his tone wary.

"I hope so," John replied amiably, trying to appear non-threatening. "Heard you got some horses?"

"We always got horses," the man responded gruffly.

"Fine horses, I mean," John clarified.

The worker's expression soured, his eyes narrowing as he glanced at the group. "I don't know whatchu’ talkin' 'bout, friend. Why don't you take that hoyden wench, yer greaser buddy, and his darkie friend and get off the property ‘fore I blow your face off," he retorted, spitting at their feet.

Kate raised her eyebrows in surprise at the man's unabashed racism and arrogance toward strangers. Suddenly understanding Tilly’s hesitation about being so far south. Javier quickly raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture. "Whoa, take it easy there, amigo," he interjected, trying to diffuse the tension.

John remained unfazed by the man's hostility. "Come on now, partner. We're just looking to do some business. Inquire about a purchase," he persisted.

The worker let out an annoyed sigh. "Fine, follow me, Scarface," he grumbled, the insults never ceasing.

The ranch hand, ever welcoming, led them into the barn, his voice a steady stream of information about the horses—names, breeds, and abilities. She noticed they were not the purebreds John had heard rumors about. Still beautiful, strong horses nonetheless. 

Kate observed John and Javier exchanging a look as they walked deeper into the dimly lit space. When the man paused to pet a horse, John subtly motioned to Javier, who deftly moved behind the unsuspecting worker. 

Meanwhile, Lenny smoothly interjected with feigned interest. "Wow, look at the balls on that one," he chuckled, pointing in another direction. The ranch hand followed his gaze, oblivious to the danger lurking behind him.

With his back turned, Javier seized the opportunity, drawing his pistol from his belt. "Greaser, huh?" he muttered bitterly before striking the bottom of the iron against the man's head, knocking him out instantly. John and Javier wasted no time, swiftly moving the unconscious body to a hidden spot while Lenny began unlocking the stable gates.

Kate stood in stunned silence for a moment, her voice barely audible as she tried to suppress her surprise. "What happened to nice and easy?" she muttered.

Her comment elicited a chuckle from Lenny, who had already mounted one of the horses. "Can't get any easier than this. Let’s try to get 'em out of here without drawing too much attention," he replied casually.

Despite her swirling thoughts and unease, Kate pushed her concerns aside and mounted one of the horses. Following the three bandits out of the barn, she joined them as they sped off through the sprawling property, the rush of adrenaline mixing with a sense of trepidation.

The thundering hooves of their stolen horses echoed through the property. Behind them, shouts and the pounding of boots indicated that their presence had been discovered. Several ranch hands emerged from the buildings, brandishing rifles and shouting warnings.

John, Kate, Javier, and Lenny spurred their horses into a full gallop, kicking up dust and dirt as they raced across the open fields. The pursuing ranch hands fired off a few rounds in their direction, but the distance and the speed of their mounts made accurate shooting difficult.

As they reached the fence at the edge of the property, they leapt over the barrier. The group plunged into a dense thicket of trees, the branches clawing at their faces and clothes. The sounds of pursuit faded behind them as the guards were forced to slow down and eventually give up the chase. They whistled loudly, and soon their own horses caught up and began to follow in tow. 

Javier led the way as they made their way through the landscape to find the supposed buyers at Clemens Cove. 

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The encounter with the buyers proved to be an intriguing yet unsettling experience. They were met by a pair of brothers who seemed to operate in uncanny harmony, sometimes speaking in unison and shrouding their business with secrecy. Details about their clientele and operations were kept hidden, with only a vague promise that one of them would be available for future dealings, if they wished to become business partners.

During the negotiation, one of the brothers made a direct offer to purchase Kate’s prized black Hungarian outright, offering her a substantial sum. However, Kate politely declined without hesitation. Her bond with the mare ran deep, and no amount of money could sway her decision to part with her cherished companion.

The brothers’ offer of 50 cents on the dollar for the stolen horses was not quite what John had anticipated, but it still amounted to a respectable deal given the circumstances.

After concluding their business at Clemens Cove, the posse set off back towards the rolling plains. The sun had dipped low on the horizon, casting a warm and serene glow over the lush green hills. Their horses trotted steadily along the trail as the  landscape unfolded around them, painted in hues of amber and gold, as they made their way back to camp.

"Hoyden wench…" Kate echoed with a chuckle, mimicking the ranch hand's harsh drawl. "I've been called a lot of things, but that sure is a first."

Javier, riding alongside her, piped up from the saddle, his expression puzzled. "What the hell does that mean, anyway?"

Lenny let out an exasperated sigh. " 'Wench' was a term used by slavers for black women. And 'hoyden' means she's too much of a 'tomboy’,'' he explained.

"Well, I can understand the 'tomboy' part, but she's not even—"

"Doesn't matter, amigo," John interjected, his tone matter-of-fact. "If ya skin ain't as white as a baby's bottom, it's all the same to them."

Kate nodded in agreement, her thoughts drifting back to the locals she had observed while running letters with Arthur. Witnessing their prejudice up close and personal was a stark reminder of the challenges faced by Lenny and Tilly in this region. As a woman of Italian descent, her skin carried a honey-brown hue, bronzed by the Lemoyne sun. Even this slight difference posed a threat to the narrow-minded locals, a reality that churned her stomach with discomfort.

"I'm ‘bout ready to get the hell out of dodge," Lenny added, his voice tinged with exasperation. "Speakin’ of racist hillbillies, Javier and I are heading out to Shady Belle. Got a tip there's some raiders sittin’ on guns and ammo. You guys want in?" He turned to John and Kate with a casual invitation.

Kate shook her head, "thanks Lenny, but I think I'll pass this time."

John chimed in with a polite refusal. "As much as I love killing racists, I gotta get back to Abigail for dinner."

Javier and Lenny exchanged nods of understanding. "No worries, compadres," Javier replied. "We'll catch up with you later."

As they bid farewell, Kate and John veered onto the familiar dirt path that led back to Clemens Point. 

The gentle melody of song birds and the steady pounding of hooves on the dry soil filled the atmosphere. Before they could approach the camp, John's voice broke the peaceful ambiance. 

"Hey, I know I sound stupid for saying this, but thank you for being a friend to Abigail. All of this has been really hard on her," he explained, his tone earnest and reflective. He glanced ahead, his thoughts drifting to his woman back at camp. "I know it may not look like it, but I'm trying—I'm working on being the kind of father she wants me to be and the husband she needs."

Kate gave him a sympathetic look, her eyes softening. “You don't sound stupid, John. This life ain’t easy for nobody, especially when there's a child in the mix.” She was slightly surprised to hear him open up to her. 

John sighed, his expression heavy with regret. “Still, I know you and I ain’t all that close, but, I did somethin’ pretty bad. I worry she might never forgive me for it.”

With a sideways glance, Kate nodded reluctantly. “Yeahhh, Abigail already told me ‘bout all that.”

“Shit, she did?” John's eyes widened in surprise.

She couldn't help but chuckle, a hint of mischief in her voice. “Oh yeah, she’s told me everything John.” Abigail didn't babble to Kate just for the sake of gossip; she understood that Abigail needed someone to confide in, someone to listen and truly hear her. She needed to feel seen, heard, and understood. Especially in times like these. 

“Well goddamn, now I feel like a proper dumbass.”

“She still loves you, John, and your boy does too. But love doesn’t come for free—it takes a lot of effort. Keep pushin’ to be a better man, she sees your effort. I promise you.” Kate's words were gentle yet firm,

"Thanks, Kate. Say, you’ve been ridin’ with us for a while now. You think you’re stickin’ ‘round for the long haul?” John asked, his tone curious.

Kate shrugged, a small smile playing on her lips. “I can’t say for certain. But for now, that’s the plan. Never thought I’d be workin’ with outlaws, but I guess it’s sometimes kinda fun,” she replied, hinting at their recent endeavor. Though petty horse theft was one thing, running from the law for murder was another.

“I noticed you and Arthur get along pretty well. He the reason you're stayin’ put?” John probed further. No doubt trying to get a grasp on his brother's affairs.

“Arthur’s a bit of a mystery to me. But we’re just friends, is all,” Kate answered, her tone casual yet guarded. She knew things between her and Arthur were only just beginning, but it was still undoubtedly complicated. The fact that some of the members had taken notice of their relationship sparked a tinge of worry. 

“You’re a tough woman to read sometimes,” he smirked, the scar on his cheek crinkled slightly. “Well, whatever the case. Take care of yourself, ya hear?” He expressed a genuine smile as he rode ahead back into camp. 

Kate followed behind, the aroma of Pearson’s signature stew filling her lungs with its savory fragrance. She left Lorena to graze peacefully among her own four-legged companions and headed toward the chuck wagon, eager to enjoy a well-earned meal after a day filled with adventure. The camp was alive with the usual sounds—crackling fire, distant chatter, and the occasional whinny of horses—creating a familiar and comforting backdrop to the evening.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As Arthur returned to camp under the blanket of stars, the world seemed silent except for the faint rustle of night creatures and the distant crackle of a dying fire. He dismounted his mare with practiced quiet, the shadows of night his ally in avoiding unwanted company.

Exhaustion weighed heavily on him, his frustration palpable in the tight set of his jaw and the weariness etched in his movements. Tonight, he had no patience for idle chatter or bullshit from the guys. Especially the ones awake at this hour.

Burning the tobacco fields with Sean had proven to be no easy task. Though never any job orchestrated by Dutch ever was. It was nights like these where Arthur questioned when all the shooting and robbing would end. What the point of it all was. 

Behind his tent, the open end of the wagon served as a makeshift wall. Arthur rummaged through crates, finding what he needed—a needle, thread, alcohol, and cloth. Wincing as he prodded the bullet graze just under his armpit.

“I’m gettin’ too old for this shit” he mumbled to himself.

Getting shot had never been part of Arthur's plan on any job. He prided himself on his quick draw and accuracy, always aiming to fire first and hit his mark before danger could strike him. But shooting under cover of night, navigating through a blazing tobacco field while avoiding being burned alive—such challenges could make even the finest gunslinger stumble.

The guards had descended upon them as soon as the smoke rose, but Sean had urged them to press on, insisting they keep pouring the moonshine without hesitation. Arthur couldn't help but worry that the young Irishman's ambition might one day lead him into an early grave.

Surprisingly, the only injury Arthur had sustained was a bullet graze, still needing a few stitches but nothing life-threatening. Meanwhile, Sean had returned unscathed, already regaling their escapade around the campfire with a bottle in hand.

Under the cool night air, Arthur peeled off his sweat-dampened shirt, the chill of the air contrasting sharply with the warmth of his body. The lantern's dim glow cast shadows, highlighting the glistening of sweat on his chest and stomach.

He dipped the cloth into the alcohol, its sharp scent biting into his senses. As he attempted to clean the wound tucked under his arm, frustration crept in. The injury was beyond his line of sight, a challenge exacerbated by his own size.

Placing one arm against the side of the wagon for support, Arthur tried again, unaware of Kate's quiet approach behind him amidst the backdrop of the night's stillness.

“Need some help there, big guy?” Kate's voice was endearing, soft, almost motherly. The tone made Arthur's knees weak and his face grow warm.

Startled, Arthur nearly leapt out of his skin, quickly lowering his arm and stepping back, almost out of the lamplight. The nickname, though used innocently, stirred something akin to shame in his belly.

"What're you doin' up?" Arthur asked, attempting to appear unbothered.

Kate shrugged, her demeanor relaxed. "Couldn’t sleep. I was brushing Lorena when I saw you come in. Figured I’d say hi," she explained. "You want some help with that?" She gestured to where small trickles of blood traced down his side, her eyes lingering slowly over his bare torso.

If it weren’t for the cover of night, Kate would have seen the deep blush that crept up to his ears. "I think I’ll be alright," Arthur managed, his mouth suddenly dry.

Kate took a step closer, her gaze shifting to his shirt hanging from the side of the wagon, a round, deep red stain contrasting against its usual pale blue.

"Well, it sure don't look alright," she noted, her eyes returning to his side. "Tough spot to reach too."

Arthur's breath quickened. "I’m fine, don’t worry 'bout me," he replied, a hint of nervousness creeping into his tone.

Kate only brushed him off with a playful wave of her arm, “oh quit it! You stitched me up before, let me return the favor.” Before Arthur could react she placed a gentle hand on his bicep, “here, turn around.” She said quietly.

He complied, turning his back to her. His body froze when her fingers returned with the wet alcohol cloth. Barely noticing the sting, as her hands alone felt like fire against his cold skin. Her warmth is intoxicating. 

A moment's silence embraced them, and Arthur prayed she couldn’t hear the beat of his heart as it raced in his chest.

Her words startled him from his thoughts, “see, ain’t so bad,” her tone soft like she was comforting a child. “Why’d ya hesitate?” A hint of curiosity and concern filled her voice from behind him.  

Arthur lowered his head slightly, “I um, well I know I ain’t much to look at.” He mumbled. 

Kate continued to clean his wound tenderly, “what do you mean by that?” 

He let out a deep sigh, there was no point in being dishonest with her, “I…I just don’t like folk seein’ me without a shirt. I ain’t what I used to be. I’m gettin’ old, gettin’ heavy too.” His hand subconsciously rubbed over his belly. 

Arthur's weight was his biggest insecurity, a constant reminder of his struggles and the pain he carried. Years had passed since Eliza and Isaac's deaths, but part of him had withered away back then. The guilt had gnawed at him, devouring his spirit day by day. He sought solace in alcohol, drowning himself in the numbness it offered. His relationship with food became a twisted dance of indulgence and deprivation.

Some days, he ate to fill the emptiness inside, seeking comfort in the fleeting sensation of fullness. Other days, food seemed an enemy, a symbol of his lack of control. He despised his belly, the way it was soft and curved, a stark contrast to the man he once knew in the mirror. His size served as a relentless reminder of his deepest failure, haunting him with each glance.

Each morning he woke, Arthur grappled with the weight of existence. The world, in its merciless ways, kept him breathing, a living monument to his own remorse. He often wondered if the world would be better off without him, a sentiment that lingered like a dark cloud over his soul.

Kate sensed Arthur's tension, the silent turmoil that echoed beneath the pads of her fingers as she tended to his wound. She felt the subtle movement of his muscles, synchronized with the rise and fall of his breath. "You're a strong man, Arthur. Age and scars don't make you any less handsome," she reassured him with genuine honesty, her voice a soothing balm.

With practiced ease, Kate finished cleaning his wound and reached for the needle and thread. She gently maneuvered his arm to rest on the side of the wagon, adjusting her position for a better angle to begin stitching. Arthur's nerves betrayed him, his hand clenching into a tight fist at his side as he tried to compose himself. His head felt dizzy, as if he had been holding his breath all this time.

"I reckon you're just sayin' that to be kind," Arthur finally admitted, his self-doubt palpable in the air.

Kate chuckled softly, the sound carrying warmth and sincerity. "I've met my fair share of ugly bastards in my lifetime, but believe me, you are certainly not one of them," she assured him, her voice like a gentle flame against his skin. Her words were a rare gift, stirring something deep within him that he had long kept hidden. Arthur closed his eyes briefly, letting her words sink in.

"You're a very handsome cowboy, wrinkles, scars, size and all. I think you're a lovely man," Kate affirmed, her words carrying a sincerity that tugged at Arthur's heart. "Besides, I know I'm not the picturesque woman myself. I'm no stranger to the cruel effects of time and livin' rough. Today, I was even called a ‘hoyden wench’ by some bona fide racist ranch hand," she added with a light laugh, as if brushing off the insult.

Kate had a way of making Arthur feel like they had known each other for a lifetime. Since the day she opened up to him about her life, she had been unapologetically honest with him. It was as if she already knew she could trust him with her personal tragedies.

Hosea's words echoed in Arthur's mind, a comforting reminder of the wisdom his old father figure imparted. Hosea simply wanted happiness for him—not wealth in money, but richness in love. He wanted Arthur to find purpose and meaning in life, to share that journey with another soul.

As Kate's needle deftly worked the thread through his skin, Arthur felt a warmth bloom in his chest. Kate's words eased a heavy burden, if only momentarily. 

He shrugged his shoulders slightly, summoning the courage to speak. “Well, I’ll say this. There ain’t nothin’ wrong with a lady who can hold her own,” he began, his voice laced with sincerity. “You’ve got a strength and beauty that’s hard to come by. I think it’s pretty admirable.”

Kate giggled softly, the sound sending a warm flutter through Arthur’s chest. “Thanks, Arthur. First time I’ve heard that in a while,” she replied, her eyes meeting his.

Arthur marveled at how he had summoned the courage to kiss her the other night, feeling as if he could barely face her now. Yet, if she leaned in to kiss him at this moment, he knew he would succumb to his desire, despite what he had told her before. She lit a fire in him.

“S’true. You’re the prettiest girl in the whole damn holler,” Arthur said, unable to hide the light chortle that escaped him.

Kate leaned closer, her breath tickling his neck as she whispered, “You have quite a sweet side, Arthur. I adore that about you,” her hand lightly squeezing his arm.

His heart swelled, and Arthur knew this was the moment. He needed to tell her, despite the nerves that threatened to overpower him. Hosea may have been right; she had stayed by his side despite everything. But as he searched for the words, unsure of how to broach the subject, his nerves got the better of him once again. There was never an easy way to say it. Just the memories of them alone felt like acid in his throat. 

Kate took a step back, placing her tools down on the back of the wagon. “I reckon I’m about done stitching this. Try to stay out of the crossfire next time, yeah?” She teased, holding up his bloody shirt with a knowing look as she handed it back to him.

Arthur felt a pang of regret. “Wasn’t my intention to get shot,” he admitted, his voice tinged with frustration. He slipped the shirt over his shoulders, tugging the sleeves down his arms.

“Nobody intends to get shot,” Kate mused, taking a step back to give him space.

Turning to face her, Arthur was struck by the sight of her eyes, a sadness that mirrored his own that evening under the moonlit sky when they kissed. His heart throbbed at the sight. Since the day he met her at Emerald Ranch, she had a welcoming presence that drew him in, along with a deep sorrow that resonated with his own. It was as if she knew him before she even met him.

He looked down, running a hand over the back of his neck. “I appreciate your help, darlin’,” he murmured. Then, letting out a deep breath, he added, “though, I really don’t deserve it.”

Kate brushed off his self-doubt. “Don’t fuss over it, Arthur. I’m here whenever you need a hand,” she assured him. “I think you should get some rest though; from Sean’s stories, it sounds like it’s been a long day.”

Arthur nodded silently, watching as Kate bid him farewell and faded back into the night. His heart silently begged, please don’t go. But she was gone, leaving him alone with his thoughts under the blanket of stars.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate lay beneath the star-studded sky, her eyes fixed on the milky purple and white swirl above, like celestial clouds in motion. Her heart echoed the rhythm of hooves against her ribs. Thoughts of Arthur filled her mind, his presence vivid in her thoughts.

The image of his body lingered before her, along with the stories he shared about himself. A longing surged within her to reveal how beautiful she found him, to explore him with kisses and her wandering hands.

Patience wavered as a persistent ache in her belly reminded her of the closeness she craved. Intimate moments with Arthur kindled her core, igniting a blaze of desire. Each quiet, vulnerable encounter with him deepened their connection. Funny how his true colors always showed when he was alone with her. 

Kate smiled to herself, feeling a rush of desire she hadn't known for what felt like a century. As good as she was on her own. She felt like life had finally granted her an anecdote to her lonely heart. 

---

AN: Phew, its out there. I know that was pretty dialogue heavy, so I hope I didn't bore you guys. Next chapter is going to be a long one, and may take me awhile. But it will be worth it, I promise!

As always, thanks for all the love!

[daitranscripts]

Trespasser Pt. 18

Ataashi

Trespasser Masterpost Previous: The Darvaarad

They enter a room, and a dragon roars in the distance.

PC: Dragon’s breath is… an actual dragon?

Spearman: Teth al! Bas!

Viddasala: Inquisition! Nehraa Ataashi-asaara meravas adim kata!

Choice dependent dialogue:

Allied Qunari/Did not complete Bull’s personal quest [1]

Saved the Chargers/Did not recruit Bull [2]

1 - Allied Qunari/Did not complete Bull’s personal quest

Bull in party Viddasala: Hissrad! Now, please. Vinek kathas. Iron Bull: Understood, ma’am. Bull draws his weapon and turns on the party. Iron Bull: Change of plans. Nothing personal… bas.

Bull not in party Viddasala: Hissrad! We need you. Vinek kathas. Bull walks in. Iron Bull: Good call leaving me behind. The Viddasala asked me to lend a hand, though. Nothing personal… bas.

The party fights until all the Qunari fall.

[These banters are in order of priority: The game will try to trigger three of the lines, going from the top down. Only one of the first group will trigger before moving on to the next group. The second and third banters will pull from the second group based on party members and list priority. If Varric and/or Dorian are in the party, they will always speak twice with their lines from the third group, even if it adds a fourth line.]

Party comments:

Dorian: The Iron Bull must have been so proud of himself. “Kadan…” (Laughs bitterly.)

Dorian: So, the Iron Bull. Trust a Qunari and see where it gets you.

Varric: Still can’t believe Bull turned on us.

Cole: the Iron Bull… He was kind but always ready underneath.

Sera: Frigging Bull. Pissballs!

Vivienne: The Iron Bull’s betrayal was inevitable, dear.

Cassandra: The Iron Bull…

Blackwall: So the Bull turned.

Party comments:

Blackwall: He was honest with you from the start, I’ll give him that much.

Cassandra: I should have known. It was my duty to have known.

Vivienne (“ma’am” banter triggered ): All that time, calling me “ma’am”… clever boy.

Vivienne (Bull never called Vivienne “ma’am”): I believe that when we are done here, there will be an Exalted March on Par Vollen.

Sera: This whole time? Just… frig, frigging, lop-horned son of a pissing shit! Rrrgh!

Cole: I didn’t feel it. There wasn’t any pain.

Party comments:

Varric: He’s a better liar than I gave him credit for.

Dorian: Vishante Kaffas.

Dialogue options:

Angry (romanced): That lying asshole used me! PC: Cheating, lying, manipulative Ben-Hassrath bastard! How could he lie beside me for years, and… and… ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Sad (romanced): I loved him. PC: Everything we had, everything I thought we… Katoh. Katoh. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Confused: I can’t believe it. PC: I still don’t understand how he could fight beside us for years, and just… ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Stoic: We deal with it later.

PC: Come on. Let’s move. [6]

2 - Saved the Chargers/Did not recruit Bull

Bull not in party/not recruited Viddasala: You have come far enough, Inquisitor. No more. [6]

Bull in party Viddasala: Hissrad! Now, please. Vinek kathas. Iron Bull: Not a chance, ma’am.

They fight the Qunari.

Party comments:

Dorian/Bull romance Dorian: Are you all right? Iron Bull: Never better, kadan. Dorian: Glad to hear it… amatus. ㅤㅤ ㅤ

Dorian: Are you all right, Bull?

Varric: You okay, Tiny?

Cole: Words like a whip. An old name burns like a broken dreadnaught. The Iron Bull, you’re hurt.

Sera: Bull, you good? I mean, I can see how what’s-her-name could get in someone’s head.

Vivienne: No regrets at turning your back on your people, Iron Bull?

Cassandra: Bull, what you did cannot have been easy.

Blackwall: For a moment there, Bull, I thought you were going to turn on us. You all right?

Iron Bull: The Iron Bull is just fine. When this is over, drinks are on me. Probably a lot of ‘em.

Romanced Iron Bull: You ready to finish this, kadan?

General: Ohhhhh, yes. [3]

General: If you’re here. [4]

General: Readier than you are! [5]

3 - General: Ohhhhh, yes. PC: Let’s go kick the Viddasala’s ass. Iron Bull: Damn right. [6]

4 - General: If you’re here. PC: As long as you’re by my side. Iron Bull: Always. [6]

5 - General: Readier than you are! PC: Just try to keep up, darling. Iron Bull: (Laughs.) [6]

Not romanced Iron Bull: All right, break time’s over. Let’s do this. [6]

6 - Scene continues.

The PC looks around and finds a note tacked up nearby.

Portions of this are in indecipherable Qunlat, with what might be formulas in an unfamiliar number system. One section has been translated for viddathari workers in the factory, then circled, repeatedly underlined, with arrows drawn around it by someone who was clearly very insistent that it be read: ㅤㅤ ㅤ For primers, combine NO MORE THAN ONE PART Ataashi venom with an equal amount of deathroot auxin and THREE PARTS powdered silverite. Adding more venom WILL DISSOLVE THE CASING ON THE PRIMERS HERE IN THE FACTORY AND FILL THE ROOM WITH DEADLY GAS. Whoever keeps getting the formula wrong needs to see me immediately! We have a great many primers to make on a tight schedule and cannot afford any more delays due to mistakes!

They continue through the gaatlok factory until they find the dragon in the venom extraction chamber.

Party comments:

Iron Bull: So boss, we gonna fight the dragon or what?

Blackwall: This monster is too dangerous. We can’t let the Qunari keep it.

Vivienne: If this creature is as vital to the Qunari operation as it looks, we should destroy it at once, dear.

Dorian: The Qunari obviously need the dragon’s venom. No dragon, no more plan.

PC: We can’t leave the dragon here. Whatever they’re using it for can’t be good for us.

Party comments:

Cassandra: Her captors have already mutilated her. It seems needlessly cruel to kill her.

Cole: She’s scared. She doesn’t want to be here. They hurt her.

Sera: They pulled so much… life or something out of her. That’s not… Ugh! How’d they ruin fighting a dragon?

Varric: This dragon’s in bad shape. Seems like kicking a wounded puppy. You know, the giant fire-breathing kind.

The PC moves near the gate cranks.

Blackwall: Over there! I think that wheel opens the gate!

Cassandra: That wheel should open up the main gate!

Iron Bull: The controls for these gates are over there, boss!

They begin to open the gate.

Cole: Yes! We're helping her!

Dorian: You've got it! It's opening!

Sera: The doors are opening! Keep doing the thing!

Vivienne: That's it, darling! Keep going!

The Viddasala calls in more reinforcements.

Viddasala: Ataashi itwa—karasaam!

Sera (married): If that bint ruins my honeymoon, I will wear her Qun for a boot! Let's wrap it up, love!

Sera (romanced): She's next, right? Because you, her, and a dragon in one day? Otter's frigging pocket!

Sera (not-romanced): Why do the pretty ones have to run their mouths! Dragon first, then right up her business!

The Viddasala shouts through the fight.

Viddasala: This is the honor of the Inquisition? Attacking an innocent creature?

Viddasala: We will not let you cut down the ataashi!

Viddasala: Parshaara!

Viddasala: Meravas adim kata!

The PC opens the gate before opening the barriers.

Blackwall: The gate is ready! Now we have to clear a path!

Cassandra: The gate is open! Now we move the rings!

Iron Bull: Halfway there, boss! We've got the gate. Let's open the barriers!

The PC starts to turn the barriers.

Vivienne: Turn the rings! Those barriers are holding the dragon!

Dorian: If we move those rings, we can clear a path for the dragon!

Varric: If we can move these rings, we can let the dragon loose!

The dragon gets damaged as the PC moves the barriers.

Vivienne: The barriers are killing it!

Dorian: If we're trying to kill the monster, that certainly works.

The barriers get blocked by debris.

Blackwall: It's stuck on something!

Cassandra: The barrier is blocked! It cannot move!

Iron Bull: There's a bunch of crap stopping it from moving, boss!

The PC sets the barriers but the gate is closed.

PC: The barriers are set. Now we just need to open the gate!

The PC opens the gates and the barriers are open. The dragon flies off, taking a Qunari with it.

Cole: She’s free! She’s leaving!

Sera: Oh, this will be legend!

Iron Bull: That's it! There goes our dragon!

Next: Agent of Fen’Harel

[omegaremix]

Omega Radio for June 28, 2021; #275.

Klaus Mann: “8Ω”

Man Is The Bastard: “Cat Scratch Fever Dreams”

American Pleasure Club: “Ban This Book”

Bad News: “Interference”

Disinformation: “National Grid”

Bruce Gilbert: “National Grid Pts. 1 & 2″

False Maria: “L.A. Sucks” + “I Really Am Alright”

Moonbeam Terror: “Revenant”

Pod Blotz: “Unified Totality”

Sonic Warfare: “The Nature Of Duality”

Magik Markers: Inverted Belgium (live)

John Wiese: “Mystical Finland” (live)

Ritual Chair: “Live At Rec. Center, 4.13″

FFH & Prurient: “AM. KR. RS. YS. KW.”

Carlos Giffoni: “Severance Pt. III”

Valentina Artaud / Monochromatica: “Rigor Romance”

Pleasure Korps: “Death And Love Can Both Be Bought”

Lana Del Rabies: “The Dies Of March” + “Don’t Tell Her Where She’s Been”

JS Aurelius: “Improvised Acoustic Wreckage, Third Collision”

Pedestrian Deposit: “Girl On A Bicycle”

Canal Street Electronics / Michael Berdan: “Phantasm Rhapsody In E”

Merzbow & Genesis P. Orridge: “All Beauty Is Our Enemy”

Merzbow: “Ghost Rider”

Etant Donnes ft. Alan Vega: “Ghost Rider” + “Brutal Piss Rods”

Wolf Eyes: “We Really Hate You”

Whitehouse: “A Cunt Like You”

Bonus Omega; 275th broadcast.

[aricr0cs]

Okay yall. I finished origins.

That was both completely different to how I expected my first playthrough to go and also A COMPLETE TRAINWRECK AND I LOVED EVERY STEP GNGBGG

So I watched my gf play and developed my own thoughts and feelings as to the choices I'd make and how my warden would react and I was so wrong about every single one of those choices.

I tend to simp for Sten so I figured I wouldn't romance anyone. My gf figured id get ninjamanced by Leliana. I in turn got ninjamanced by both Alistair AND Zevran gbgbg...... and bestsies with Leli bgbgbg

I thought I'd power femme Anora as queen. Instead when I thought about how my warden would feel, I got emo cuz she'd think he'd make a great king and chose him knowing she wouldn't be able to be with him anymore.

I thought I'd tell Morrigan to fuck off on the dark ritual because I personally find it reprehensible. Instead I spent like ten minutes holding my controller and crying like a baby because technically the relationship ended on good terms and my warden will love the King until she dies and would do ANYTHING to make it so that he doesn't die.

Followed by emotional whiplash because I got to talk to all my companions before marching and zevran fuckn GAVE ME AN EARRING I GOT NINJAMANCED BY HIM TWICE LMAOOOO

Don't know if I've ever mentioned it on this blog but Zev is my second favorite character in the entire franchise. I just adore him. Precious absurd murder bean.

Hell I got emotional when he chose to not betray the warden (even tho I assure you I stuffed cake into that glorious bastard like I was a cake factory but I STILL happy cried about it ynhnhh).

So I had to look SO ridiculous. Snot crying but then shrieking and laughing because of how ridiculous Zevran is. Homie didn't even wait for the warden to wash the new kings smell outta her bedsheets gnhnhg

[dhr-ao3]

Partnership

Partnership https://ift.tt/4w2Bag9 by ShesaSleepyWriter 5 years later and the bastard has the balls to show up, looking more handsome than she remembered, and take half her job?! If she weren't so in love with him she really would hate him. If he weren't so in love with her he'd feel badly about it. If he hadn't found out she'd been fending off a predator the whole time he'd been gone, often unsuccessfully, he'd feel like less of a failure. But she is in love with him. And he is love with her. And she has been fighting, and it has been bad... but they're in it together now, and from now on. Life's crazy like that, apparently. And as long as they're happy, with blond curly-haired babies on the horizon... his parents are WAY too excited for them. (and Pansy says 'I told you so') Words: 1875, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: F/M Characters: Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger, Pansy Parkinson, Narcissa Black Malfoy, Lucius Malfoy, Harry Potter, Kingsley Shacklebolt, Theodore Nott, Blaise Zabini, Ron Weasley, Nymphadora Tonks, Andromeda Black Tonks Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley Additional Tags: Redeemed Draco, Draco loves Hermione, Hermione Granger & Pansy Parkinson Friendship, Protective Theodore Nott, Protective Blaise Zabini, Ron Weasley Bashing, Stalker Ron Weasley, Good Lucius Malfoy, Good Narcissa Malfoy, crooksie lives, Sirius Black Lives, BAMF Kingsley as Minister, Romance, Smut, Fluff via AO3 works tagged 'Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy' https://ift.tt/UOZdwra March 27, 2024 at 07:20AM

[clocks-are-round]

WHAT THE FUCK. After finding that last snippet I did more digging in my google docs. what the fuckk hahaha

it’s titled “april fools” from March 2022, so like exactly two years ago. i have cued it for the next April 1st

some things are best left unpublished but frankly i don’t like to take that much psychic damage and NOT inflict it on the next idly curious RvB fan.

i remember now, i was going to write a fic with the most bastardized fandomy takes on each character possible but i legitimately can’t tell if that psa was a real attempt at that or if i physically could not bring myself to (likely) and went for the easier to deal with ‘react to fandom’ instead

Prepare for lots of Donut innuendos

(it’s not actually that bad, i very much did back out of the initial concept immediately, it just caught me really off guard haha)

——

I’m going t o fucking c r y. this was pain to write. (first thing i wrote. haven’t even written the fic yet)

fandom cringe versions plZ i hate it

Simmons: ;w; anxiety boi

Grif: uwu sleepy boi

Caboose: owo can do no wrong boi

Donut: owo can do no wrong femboi

i don’t know if i can do this. holy shit. i know it’s for april fools but if it causes pain to write aren’t i the fool?

ImPorTaNt RvB PSA

Simmons: Hi everyone, I’m Dick Simmons from popular webseries Red vs Blue.

Grif: And I’m Dexter Grif from the same show.

Caboose: And I am Caboose

Simmons: … Hi Caboose.

Caboose: What are we talking about today?

Caboose: And now, the weather! Spoiler, it is rain.

Simmons: Uh… No idea how to segue that back. So, we’re supposed to read these fan stories. This first one is about me and Grif it looks like, and– Wait, wait what??

Grif: What? What is it, let me see. *starts laughing hysterically*

Simmons: *flustered* What is this mushy gushy romance stuff? I’d just– I’d just like to set the record straight that if I did hypothetically have feelings for a person that I knew I totally wouldn’t do that. I mean, pine for somebody? For a decade? That’s some bullshit, any self-respecting person would move on in that amount of time–

Lopez: [Honestly, you two are not subtle. Even I’ve noticed and I try my hardest to ignore you all.]

Grif: You would! You would act like that around a crush! Holy shit, they nailed you, Simmons!

Donut: Did someone say Donut?

Donut: Wait a minute! Fanfiction?? Those are my people! Let me host this one please please please? I’ll be the hostess with the mostest! I’ll put my Donut whole into it!

Simmons: Yeah, I need to go bleach my eyes, so be my guest.

Grif: And I just wanted to watch Simmons die as he read all this. It’s no fun if it’s you, Donut.

Donut: Well, I’m excited. I can’t wait to read how deep they’ve penetrated into you and Simmons’ relationship! Looks like you two are in a lot of these.

Simmons: Lalala I can’t hear you. I can’t hear anything and therefore do not need to respond to any awkward topics.

Donut: Ooh, they’re all romantic.

Grif: Oh god, yeah, let’s go.

Doc: Could I be co-host? I haven’t helped host one of these in forever!

Donut: I thought you didn’t like this kind of thing?

Doc: Well, we’re keeping it PG, I’ll be just fine.

Donut: Ehhhh

Doc: Donut. We’re keeping it PG, right? *O’Malley* I hope not. I’d like to see some carnage. Shut up, you fool. It’s fiction. *Doc* I didn’t say anything. *O’Malley* You were about to chastise me.

Donut: Depends… does PG stand for pornogr–

Doc: Donut! *O’Malley* Or pussy grande. *Doc* O’Malley! There’s way more out there than just smut! Even in the romance genre there are comedies, introspective pieces, adventure, slice-of-life, drama…

Donut: Well, yeah, but I figured we could do a little of everything.

Lopez: [Jesus christ, just choose one. I’m going to burn this anyways.]

Donut: Good idea, Lopez! Burn it to discs! We can send them out as audiobooks!

Lopez: [I meant in a fire.]

Donut: Yeah, it is a fire idea, Lopez. Jeez, now you’re just fishing for compliments. *clears throat*

Doc: We’re doing a “safe for work” one, right? *O’Malley mutters* You are a wet, wretched blanket. I hope you know that.

Donut: Yeah, yeah. Jeez. Now I have to clear my throat dramatically again! *clears throat*

——

you know what? fuck it. this is about in line with my other fake psas maybe i’ll complete it and post it on ao3. eventually. on an april 1st, naturally lol

[acorrespondence]

*grabby hands* gimme all the heavy heart secrets pls pls pls

Did I already tell you that heavy heart had a different working title? I feel like I did, which means it’s no longer a secret. If not, it was “i’ve sent your saddle home,” after a line in the Hank Williams Sr. Song “Dear John.” I think the overall vibe of Heirloom by sleeping at last (where the posted title comes from) fits the vibe of the fic way more, so I’m very happy to have settled on it.

Another secret, I suppose, is that I had an extremely difficult time coming up with Pemberley’s name. I don’t even generally like regency romance as a genre, at least in its traditional structure with its common tropes, and found Pride and Prejudice a bit of a slog when I read it in high school. But I was trying to think of names inspired by literature and came to it kind of randomly. I guess the thought process was thus: I was considering the tradition in the American South of giving children the mother’s maiden name (or other family name that disappeared through marriage) irrespective of gender, and it didn’t seem too much of a leap from literary surnames to literary place names (it fits the same theme of reclaiming lost inheritance, particularly the kind of inheritance that’s traditionally barred to women, as an overwritten surname being reclaimed in what’s by necessity a roundabout/bastardized way, that being the only way available; plus, inheritance in a less tangible sense—inheritance of trauma, inheritance of a place and its ghosts and memories—is very much one of the story’s central themes). I also thought it was pretty recognizable as a Name Inspired By Literature, from a very popular set of books, and therefore something that a) Pem’s mother might have thought of if Boyd suggested Literary Names despite maybe being less well-read (at least when it comes to the “classics”) and b) is unique and pretentious enough Boyd would have agreed to it.

In the vein of names, another secret: Pemberley’s middle name, Anne, was inspired by Anne of Green Gables. Felicity’s was originally going to be Jo after Jo March, but then I decided that since Felicity isn’t literature-inspired, they probably made a conscious decision to let that be Pemberley’s Thing. So, I switched it to Joan after Joan of Arc (not-so-coincidentally, I think this warrior’s name fits her personality just as well. Plus, I like the symmetry of Felicity Joan and Pemberley Anne.)

(Ask game here)

[usernoneexistent]

Challenge: All You need is love @hp-12monthsofmagic

A/N: I don't know what demon possessed me but I wrote this in like two days and then she had the audicatity to ask me to draw not just one but four drawings however o realised that I didn't have the time so here it is. So, Zola is tired from living with a loveless home but a simple letter from someone special is exactly what she needed.

Warnings: swearing, verbal abuse, child neglect, classism, no romance but angst with a hopeful ending

The night was cooling down London from the Summer heat earlier. The sun lingered around longer despite it being close to midnight. Zola wasn't even doing anything exciting, just hanging around the council block playground before a group of older kids from the block took over. She was smart enough to know when to move out of the way.

Instead she opted for walking aimlessly through her neighbourhood in the borough of London. Children screaming happily, ice cream vans and teens on their bikes filled the Summer night.

Zola had spent most of her summer either writing to her best friend, Tarra or seeing if Michael, a guy from her block was free. None of her old mates from primary wanted to hang out with the girl going to 'boarding school'. Like all of a sudden she has become one of those snobs from the West end.

And staying home wasn't an option for her. Auntie Gracie-Mae and uncle Andrew weren't exactly fun company either. They barely tolerated her presence so why stay any longer. Though now she figured would be a good time to head back to their council flat.

Zola waltzed back in without care that she made loud noise in the middle of the night. The TV was blarring in the background anyway. As she stomped pass the crack of the living room door where uncle Andrew has been sitting there since he woke up in the afternoon.

"Zola! What did I say about slamming the door?!" He yelled, slurring his words. The bastard was drunk and Auntie Gracie-Mae was off on the night shift.

She hated being alone with the slob. He didn't do anything but watch TV, eat, yell and sleep. Andrew was too lazy to even get out of the sofa.

"What did you say, you little bitch!" He yelled louder, grunting from the sofa.

"Fuck you, Andrew!" Zola slammed the door again. 

"I said fuck you!" Zola repeated before marching to her bedroom, slamming another door. She grabbed a chair to lock her door before letting frustrated groan to the pillow. Remnants of her makeup remained on the pillow. 

She looked at the news articles that she had converted as posters. All these cursebreakers free and full of fun and adventure. That's all she wanted, every Summer felt like a prison with them. Her father doesn't bother writing but her brother, Jeremiah did occasionally send an owl but ultimately she was all alone.

She clutched the pillow, hugging it tightly. No one wanted her. Zola was alone in this miserable apartment. Angry or sad tears, Zola wasn't sure threaten to leave her eyes.

"Everyone sucks." She muttered.

Zola wished she had a normal family or as normal as she could get. She was jealous of Tarra, her parents there for everything and even her cousin, Duncan. Yeah, he would moan about his father but it was clear that he wanted to be there for him. Her parents never did that for her. Her father decided robbing Gringotts was worth more than her and her mother...well she probably took one look at Zola and noped out.

A knock on her window brought her out of her own self pity party. A barn owl was outside with a letter inbetween her beak. She knew that owl immediately; Tori, Tarragon's owl.

Zola let in the owl and took the letter. Her fingers fumbled to open it quickly. She scanned each word meticulously, soaking in everything.

"Damn you, Tarra." Zola cracked a wide grin. "Always know how to make my day."

The timing couldn't have been any better. Tarra was inviting her to Scotland to stay with her and Duncan for a while. Without much thought, Zola grabbed whatever she felt she needed and stuffed it into a bag. Including her secret stash of gallons, sickles and knuts. 

She boldly strutted past Andrew with new found confidence.

"Where are you going?"

"None of your business, not like you ever care." Zola opened the front door. "Oh and I may never come back. You can tell Auntie Gracie-Mae that."

Andrew looked startled through the door before Zola slammed the door one last time.

Before Zola could change her mind a gust of wind before a royal purple triple decker bus was infront of her.

She looked for a secluded road before putting her wand hand up in the air. She felt stupid but she was sure this was how she could get the knight bus.

"You comin' on?"

Zola blinked before registering what was going on. A man in a purple uniform and a worn out soldiers cap

"Right."

She hopped on, paying eleven sickles for a ticket and told her destination to the Tentsmuir, Scotland. The man was the conductor who welcomed her aboard and showed about.

Metal beds in rows took up majority of the space. Some curtains were closed from other passengers. The few who hadn't closed their curtains stared at the fourteen year old. Zola simply gave a glare back in retaliation and chucked her bag onto the bed.

She closed the curtains for privacy and pulled out the smooshed letters from Tarra. Every letter of Tarra telling her she missed her best friend and was lonely without her when she was in Romania, England or Scotland. While Zola doubt that Tarra would ever feel lonely surrounded by animals a her words filled her heart more than any snogging with Michael ever did.

At some point, Zola's body finally caved into to sleep after staying up for so long. Though when she woke up, she felt her neck sore and the letters spread on stomach and chest.

The bus halted to a forceful stop. Her letters flew off the bed and her bag rolled to the middle of the floor.

"We have arrived at Tentsmuir." The conductor announced. "Thanks for taking the Knight bus, we hope you had a pleasant stay."

It was a beautiful sight of the sunrise along if the forest behind where she could find the stone cottage. She walked through the patches of grass with hope that she could gain a new home.

Zola hurriedly grabbed everything and stumbled out the bus. It left immediately leaving her at a muggle road. She covered her eyes as the stream of sunlight of the sun rising beamed in her face.

[mermaidsirennikita]

Do you have recs for couples that have a dynamic like Nellie and Lockwood/where the hero realises and admits to his feelings first and is 1000% in? I love them a lot ❤️

For sure!

Historical romance:

A Wicked Game by Kate Bateman. Hero and heroine grew up together, their families were enemies, and they kind of had an uneasy friendship but not really. He goes off to the navy, and when he comes back after years of imprisonment he's resolved to marry her. She's less certain, but she promised him three kisses (anywhere he wants) if he came back alive...

Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage by Jennifer Ashley. Kind of a twist in that the hero and heroine are married but have been separated for three years. They had a very impetuous elopement situation, where he basically met her and swept her off her feet. Now he's resolved to get her back, whereas she's much more resistant. He's ALL in.

The Madness of Lord Ian MacKenzie by Jennifer Ashley. I think this one is similar, it's been a while since I've read it (and it comes before Lady Isabella). Hero is super straightforward and he's on the autism spectrum. I know he just like, immediately pursues the heroine, who's about to get engaged to another man.

The Countess by Sophie Jordan (out in March, if you wanna pre-order) has a twist on this. The heroine is married and has an eighteen year old daughter, and her husband wants her daughter to marry this rich businessman. Businessman is more interested in the mom, and while she's understandably like no fucking way, he basically pretends to court the daughter with the ultimate goal of getting close to her. It's real good.

Forbidden by Elizabeth Lowell is an old school medieval that has this in spades. The hero is found by the heroine, and he actually has amnesia so he has no idea who he is, but he knows he's really into her. She's resistant, in part because she knows some things that will change everything between them--it's high drama, high angst, and I fucking adore it. (Also has a sex scene with light femdom vibes, which is never a bad thing.)

The Perfect Crimes of Marian Hayes by Cat Sebastian. This book actually kicks off with the heroine killing the hero's dad, lol--her husband. The hero was the husband's bastard son, and he and the heroine know each other because he's been trying to blackmail her. They end up on this kind of rollicking adventure together, and he's a little subby and she's a bit of a domme. Notable: both of them are bi, and she also has trauma/a dislike of penetration, so they get more creative with sex. He.... is not afraid of being penetrated, lol.

Heartbreaker by Sarah MacLean. A big thing from this book is that she's a thief and excels by going unnoticed, but he has ALWAYS noticed her and is kind of obsessed with her. I think there's a moment where she's next to him when he's driving a carriage thing, and her hair comes undone and he's so distracted by it that he like, crashes. Lockwood and Calyborn are SIMPS.

A Lady for A Duke by Alexis Hall. Notable in that the heroine is trans and was friends with the hero pre-transition, and doesn't want him to like, sacrifice anything for her. Once he realizes he wants her, though, he WANTS her and pursues her.

Married by Morning by Lisa Kleypas. These two had an enemies to lovers deal in previous books, but in this one he's like "LET'S JUST GIVE UP THE GAME". He has a bit of a dominant streak in the bedroom, too--she's his sisters' governess. He does make her ask him to touch her pussy and specifically say it out loud.

Thief of Shadows by Elizabeth Hoyt. Once Winter realizes he loves Isabel, he's SUPER all in while she's in denial. Lol I'll never forget the proposal where she's like "Winter, I can't marry you" and he's very calmly like "actually you can".

Contemporary:

Her Halloween Treat by Tiffany Reisz. This is a GREAT category romance, super hot--they were kind of childhood sweethearts, he was her brother's best friend, she goes home after finding out that her boyfriend is married. The hero gives her a good time, bu he's actually in looove with her. Halloween actually isn't a huge part of the book, lol.

[mec-writes]

"Lights, Camera, Action!" - a short story by MEC

Ever since I was a little girl, I was destined for stardom. When I was three, I booked my first commercial. At five, I had supporting roles in a bunch of smaller, indie films. By the time I was ten, I was shooting my first tv pilot. I was so excited, sitting in the makeup chair, getting dolled up to go on camera, ready to play the character of Millie Roberts.

Our Little Life was the darling of television and it was all thanks to me. I could make the audience swoon with just one line. Plus, I was definitely better than any of the adult leads. Especially Harlan Jacobs who played my dad on the show, the bastard.

Every day, he’d march onto set with the same three words, “Where’s my coffee?!” He knew how to recite that better than any of his lines. Shoots lasted hours later than they were supposed to, which you really can’t do when you shoot in front of a live audience. The audience would always have to be sent home before we were done because he kept screwing up. Talentless, completely talentless. Makes me wonder why he wasn’t fired after the pilot.

I remember one time, when the network answered the cries of paranoid parents to do an episode for season two about the dangers of drug use, no one could find him. Eventually, a production assistant spotted him in his car, passed out with white powder up his nose. Pretty ironic. 

After the show ended in ‘95, I needed to prove that I wasn’t just a washed up child star. I could dazzle people, even at seventeen. I told my agent, “Don’t send me a script unless it knocks me dead.” Apparently, he thought that meant sending me Operation Dark Shadow, a practically plotless action movie script. Well, the producers of the film thought it’d be a hit, and I’ll admit, the character they wanted me to play was a far cry from who people knew me as. Emerald Jones, renegade spy. After escaping the (quite generic) spy academy where she was trained from childhood, she escapes while somehow running around in a tight, black tank top and shorts! Kill me.

Still, people have always liked sexy girls fighting each other. Ask any man who was a teenager in the 90’s, they probably had my poster on their wall. Millie Roberts was gone, and everything was coming up Emerald! That is, until the premiere. Thanks to one of the film’s producers, Harlan got an invite. He walked right up to me and kissed me on the forehead. 

In one swoop, it was goodbye to my new start and hello to a dozen newspaper headlines that read some variation of, “The Show Might Be Over but Millie Roberts Lives On!”, “Even When She’s Killing Bad Guys, She’ll Always be His Little Girl!”, “Hey, Let’s Baby This Actress as Much as Possible!”. All I could think was, “Dammit, I was so close!”

He only showed up because he knew he was on the decline. He knew Hollywood was done with him. Even when the film’s sequel came out, all anyone could ask was things about Millie. Did I keep in touch with any of the cast? Is it true that I had a fling with the director who did the series finale? Would HARLAN be showing up again? No one even cared that I had booked a mini series (Okay, admittedly I’ve even forgotten what it was supposed to be about). Still, couldn’t anyone take the hint?

As the year of ‘98 rolled in, it was time to try revamping again. I turned down the offer to make a third movie with Emerald, and opted to take a script for a romance movie called, The Lives we Live. If I couldn’t be an action star, I’d break into the rom-com world. I played Gloria Bluestone, your typical high strung, no nonsense New Yorker. She was a reporter (well, obviously…), who had no time for love (well, obviously!) until she met Mr. Right (WELL, OBVIOUSLY). This time, I made sure no one from Our Little Life got an invite.

The film was the hit of the summer. Instead of teenage boys, it was the hopelessly romantic working women who purchased movie posters to put up on their wall. It was worth every reporter asking me if me and Jason Cray, who played my love interest, had anything going on in real life. Seriously, did no one realize he forgot to take off his wedding band during his audition tape?

I booked four more rom-coms after that. Four more tightly wound, working protagonists who spoke to single women everywhere. Gloria was reskinned as Annie-May, Johanna, C.J. and Olive. I even surprised the masses when I went on Broadway to do a stage adaptation of Pride and Prejudice. I showed everyone how Jane Bennet was supposed to be played. 2002 was gonna be my year, I’d shed Millie forever.

Then…2008 happened. The network sent an email out to my old costars and I, asking if we’d like to come back for the twenty year anniversary of Our Little Life. I have never typed the word, “no” so fast in my entire life. That’s all I sent, “no”.

At that point, I was busy getting ready for a convention, I had just finished filming a superhero movie. The character I played, Milky Way was from some comic book series called Galaxy Defenders. During the Q&A panel, a fan walked up to the mic to ask me a particular question, “Is it because of this panel that you had to skip the reunion for-” “That’s enough questions for today.” We had thirty minutes to go, I didn’t care. After my panel, I ended up looking up clips of the reunion. Yep, just like I thought, sufficiently awkward.

Marla Cooke, who played my mom, had so much botox pumped in her, she was unrecognizable. Jeffery Jones and Talia Whitney, who played my older siblings, had barely booked a radio ad since the show ended, so I assume they took the reunion gig for the cash. Then, of course, there was Harlan. I’d be lying if I said that I wasn’t shocked he was even still alive. All that coke and caffeine…

It was clear that the interviewer wasn’t told that I wouldn't be in attendance. All his questions sounded half finished, like he couldn't get a clear answer since not everyone was there. Then Harlan did the unthinkable, he acted kind for the first time in his life. He looked right at the camera and said, “Shayla, we miss you. I don’t know why you didn’t choose to come today but please know, you’ll always be Millie to us.”

I know, that’s the problem.

[izzybellgee]

💓📺 Share ten different favorite couples (canon or headcanon) from ten different pieces of media in no particular order 🎮💘 Then send this to 10 people (anon or not, your choice) to spread the love 💞😘

Oh thank you!!!!!!! Ten of my favorite couples, in no particular order:

Shakarian - Mass Effect: every time i think im free of this ship's pull, shepard and garrus pull me back in with the most heartwrenching friends to lovers, you-complete-me ass romance. hurts my feelings (affectionate)

Mithrax /the Guardian - Destiny 2: im normal im well adjusted come closer i am just a normal destiny 2 player

Alistair/the Warden - Dragon Age: Origins: I am not immune to snarky handsome bastard prince send tweet

Varric/Cassandra - Dragon Age Inquisition: going to skip Solavellan and talk about my true passionate ship for this game, cass and varric. their personality foils, the enemies to lovers, she loves his romance novels, im screaming crying throwing up etc

Bigby/Snow - Fables/TWAU: its been 9000 years but they still have a place in my heart

KuroFai - Tsubasa Resevoir Chronicles: the og. my original skrunkly boys. i would kill for them

Ahiru/Fakir - Princess Tutu: i would also die for them, my favorite tragedy characters fighting the narrative for their own happy ending

Sora/Riku/Kairi - Kingdom Hearts: [riku voice] this is my boyfriend sora and his girlfriend kairi

Stelle/March/Dan Heng - Honkai Star Rail: [march voice] this is my girlfriend stelle and her boyfriend dan heng

me / beidou - genshin impact: my wife

thanks again!!!! i love talking about my ships

[darlenefblog]

Billionaire romance books - my take on them. Who doesn't love a billionaire.

Fetching a Billionaire

Juliet Sterling

105 pages, Kindle Edition

Published March 21, 2024

A cute story and easy read. Unfortunately, there are errors that a good editing job would have taken care of. The worst is in the beginning his parents are dead & he was raised by his grandfather. Later in the book they have dinner with his parents...obviously not dead.

A 3 star review

The Boss #1

The Boss: Book One

Cari Quinn, Taryn Elliott

156 pages, Kindle Edition

First published October 27, 2015

as filthy as you think and a boring as hell. Nothing but a fuck-fest, the conversations are boring, the characters are boring. I skipped around to see if there were redeemable parts...nope.

Got free from the author.

A 1 star review

Cocky Bastard Series #2

Stuck-Up Suit

Vi Keeland, Penelope Ward

245 pages, ebook

First published April 11, 2016

better than I'd thought it would be. I got it free from the author and took a chance. The characters were well written, the plot was interesting. An adult romance book with the cursing and sex scenes. At least the sex wasn't graphic, thank goodness for that.

Got free from the author.

A 4 star review

Undercover Billionaire

Amy Andrews

188 pages, Kindle Edition

Published March 31, 2020

In 2024 romance it has hot sex and a few curse words. The writing reminds me of an old fashioned Harlequin novel, same kind of plot. An interesting story & characters that kept me reading.

A 3 star review

[inthefoxholes]

1000% yes. It just not only makes the characters one-dimensional, it also completely takes me out of the story. How often do Rook and their romance reassure each other that they’ll make it out alive in the last two quests?? Why? What kind of assumption is that, going against gods? Why is everyone so upbeat about this? I guess it was supposed to be romantic/touching, but when Rook promised Lucanis that they‘d definitely see each other again when all was over I was so angry, that is such a disingenuous thing to say before something that is for all intents and purposes a suicide mission. (But it wasn’t, and again the emotional response fell flat and it all felt goofy rather than epic)

And I would also add to the very valid points made above, that this emotional flatness is a corollary to the sanitized world of datv. Conflicts in previous games arose because something was terribly wrong, and this wrongness could often enough not be talked away - action was required. Alastair‘s conflict arose from the fact that he was a bastard and given away for political reasons, and now called upon to take responsibility by the same system that had discarded him before. Just listening to him is not enough. As a player you have to actually support him through this by your actions (or not, and potentially lose him). (And that’s just one example, let’s not even talk about your crew from da 2, where everyone was so traumatized that any help you could offer was first and foremost damage control.)

There is nothing like this in veilguard? Lucanis is possessed by an actual fucking demon, and it’s kinda unproblematic? Because there are no Templars anymore and people are suddenly super chill with abominations? Harding manages to pacify (?) an actual fucking titan, a being of unfathomable age and scope by… I don’t even know, have someone tell her feelings are ok, a truth she not only integrates into herself in a matter of seconds but then manages to instill in a being that should be beyond her horizon of understanding? And this is not something we should ruminate on? The titans, the monstrous thing that was done to them? It’s just ok now? I don’t even know what Neve is supposed to represent or solve. There are lichs in this world and we‘re not gonna ask about them?? They’re not gonna help us, have never helped anyone, are super fine with slavery and exalted marches, no explanation given? But they are still the good guys, kinda? I could go on. (Don’t get me started on Illario - what the fuck do you mean I can’t kill him?? He betrayed Lucanis, kept him in a torture-prison for a YEAR, and my choices are reconciliation or prison? How insulting is this to what Lucanis went through?)

It’s like there’s no conflict allowed in the world, apart from the big one (and how very fortunate that every companion quest ties neatly into this), and that gets resolved far too easily, without any messiness, any damage, any depth.

The thing is, it's not about the Therapy Speak. It's not that everyone who disliked DAV hates healthy communication as a dynamic in fiction. It's not even about only being allowed to be a good guy, really, because most of us did do that anyways (though the option not being there is a loss I grieve even if I never chose it myself, but that's another rant for another day).

It's that DAV does all that stuff at the expense of being believable. At the expense of characters being permitted to have personalities. At the expense of emotions behaving the way emotions actually work for people. At the expense of letting the plot build tension through the stakes we're forced to grapple with.

Half the fics out there take the conflicts between the characters in the previous games and resolve them. I do it myself ALL THE TIME because I like to find a path to resolution through just about any conflict, that's what fascinates me about telling these stories. But the higher the stakes, the harder a conflict is to resolve. You CAN resolve any conflict, you CAN communicate healthily through any emotion, but you can't skip the time it takes to process it all to even be able to communicate it. As someone whose got CPTSD and recovered from many Traumas, I can tell you that the TIME it takes to work through it is not something you can fast track, and the ups and downs of your emotions on that journey can't be skipped. It doesn't matter if you know exactly how to do it, exactly how it's going to feel, or exactly what the end state will be, you CAN'T speedrun it.

DAV has stakes that are astronomical, but nobody treats them that way. Nobody experiences denial - a common psychological reaction to being presented with information that shatters your worldview. Nobody expresses any distrust in the establishments handing out this information - something common among cultures that have at times been at war, even if those wars are "resolved" in the present. Nobody really ever breaks down - something that any person is capable of under extreme circumstances, especially when facing multiple crises of faith that challenge everything they thought they knew about themselves. Nobody blows their lid because they've been repressing the hell out of everything. Nobody grieves for southern Thedas, the entire thing dying off screen and giving you, the player, NO way to engage with it in any way.

Not to mention there are barely any inter-party conflicts, when there should be a lot more. Why is everyone (except Spite) fine with it if Emmrich sacrifices Manfred to become a lich? Why is everyone fine with Illario potentially being set free if he was working with the venatori and Elgar'nan, two sources that have actively attacked everyone in the party? Why doesn't Neve resent Lucanis if Treviso is picked? Why doesn't Harding get pissed off at Nevarra for having a secret society of liches that never helped during the Inquisition's war against the breach and corypheus? Why doesn't Harding feel ANYTHING about Ferelden and the rest of the south? Shouldn't Harding resent the fact that she's stuck in the north while her home dies?

All of these conflicts ARE resolvable, but not easily. And it's not believable that they're never brought up. It's not believable that these characters skip through everything that happens with like, barely a frowny face most of the time. In DAO, Alistair leaves if you don't treat his conflicts with respect. In DA2, your party members try to kill each other if you don't pay attention to their conflicts/emotional needs. In DAI, people can leave or betray you, Cassandra throws a chair at Varric and tries to body him out a window. ALL of these can be resolved but it takes effort, and the characters get to SHOW that they're bothered by them and struggling the way a person would when faced with those emotions.

The problem isn't the therapy speak, or that everyone is loyal and won't leave, or that they aren't mean to each other enough. It's that it's toxic positivity. It's toxic as fuck to imply that anger or grief should be smiled over or else you're giving up, and it's damaging to people to avoid engaging with their own negative emotional responses to extremely negative stimuli. It's pasting optimism over very real, very weighty issues, sweeping it all under the rug, and you keep waiting for the lid to blow off the pressure cooker that creates, but it never does. It never becomes anything that emulates real emotions, which is why the whole damn thing feels hollow. Everything's dying and nobody cares, not even about themselves, and that's NOT healthy communication.

It's bullshit, half-assed storytelling that didn't tell us the actual story, just the vague idea of what it could have been.