#and they have actual backstories you can flesh out

[ryin-silverfish]

Trivia collection: Nezha in the Tang-Song period

Quick primer: Nezha originates from an Indian deity that gets incorporated into the Buddhist pantheon and imported into China via the spread of Buddhism, then becomes progressively more sinicized + Daoist-ized as a popular folk deity.

Neither his iconography nor backstories stay the same throughout this long process of localization and syncretism, and the vernacular novels that define his modern popular image come relatively late in Nezha's evolution.

This post focuses on Nezha in the Tang-Song period——when he first appeared in translated ritual texts + when the "returning his flesh and blood" thing showed up in written sources.

...

-Before we get to the defining early ritual texts, we must start with the brief mentions of Nezha/Nalakuvara in translated Buddhist scriptures.

-The earliest mention of Nalakuvara as the son of Pishamen, a.k.a. Vaisravana, appeared in the Northern-Southern dynasty translation of Buddhacharita (佛所行赞). Here, he is not refered to using transliterations that have "Na/Nezha" as its first two characters, but as Naluo Jiupo.

-In Bhaiṣajya-vastu, one section of Mūlasarvāstivāda Vinayapiṭaka (根本说一切有部毗奈耶药事), Nezha is brought up in a conversation between Sakyamuni and Ananda. Sakyamuni basically pointed at a mountain and said "100 years after my death, two brothers——Nezha and Pozha——will come along and build a temple here".

-Other scriptures described him as a Yaksha general (in 不空羂索神变真言经), a Devaraja (in 大佛顶陀罗尼), or a "ghost/demon king" (in 吽迦陀野仪轨).

I suppose you can find reasoning for all these readings in the Indo-Buddhist deity he's based on:

1)Nalakuvara the original is the son of Kubera. Vaisravana is either Kubera's epithet or his father.

2) In the Atharva Veda and Satapatha Brahmana, Kubera/Vaisravana rules over either evil spirits or Rakshas.

3) Yaksha/Raksha being among his subjects kinda carried over to the Mahabharata and Ramayana too, in which he's a wealth god who ruled over the city of Lanka, before his half-brother, Ravana, comes along and forced him to move out.

(Nalakuvara also had a wife in Ramayana. Ravana assaulted her, and he put a curse onto Ravana in response.)

4) Buddhism incorporated Kubera into their pantheon as a guardian deity under the name Vaisravana: here, he is the Devaraja of the North and lord of the Yakshas.

5) Because the Indian sources don't have a consensus on whether Nalakuvara's father is a Yaksha/Raksha or a god either, the translated scriptures also can't agree on the specific details of Nezha other than him being a guardian deity.

-It is in Tang Buddhist texts about Pishamen worship that Nezha's status as Pishamen's third son becomes more firmly established.

-However, there are actually 2 different variants of his relation to Pishamen: one said he was Pishamen's grandson, while the other said he was Pishamen's third son.

-The first variant is from Amoghavajra's translation of a ritual text, 北方毗沙门天王随军护法仪轨. In this text, he wields a halberd, "sees all four directions with his fierce eye" (尔时哪吒太子，手捧戟，以恶眼见四方), and will bonk monks and nuns over the head with his vajra club for harboring wicked and murderous thoughts.

-In this text, he is also described as a protector of kings and officials, a subduer of the wicked, and has a mantra one can recite.

-The second variant is found in two other Pishamen-related texts translated by Amoghavajra, 北方毗沙门天王随军护法真言 and 毗沙门仪轨.

-Apart from being Pishamen's third son, both texts also give him the role of pagoda-carrier. In the latter text, it is mentioned that the 21th day of every month is when he hands the pagoda back to his father.

-Another Tang source, 开天传信记, features a story where Nezha protects Xuan Lv, disciple of Śubhakarasiṃha, from a fall, introduces himself as Pishamen's son, and presents a Buddha tooth relic to the Buddhist master.

-He's described as a "youth" here, but honestly, 少年 could refer to anything between a young teen and a young adult. This story has an earlier predecessor in Ennin's travel diary, where he also mentioned Nezha giving a tooth relic to a monk.

-Finally for the Tang dynasty, there is a specific genre of Dunhuang paintings called "Heavenly King Pishamen arrives at Nezha's banquet". Usually, the painting is located on the west wall of the painting cave's antechamber.

[Mogao Cave 146, main chamber ceiling, northwestern corner. Nezha is likely the small figure on the left, clasping his palms together over his head.]

One Dunhuang text, the P.3564 Mogao Cave Merit Records from 933 CE, gives some context on the aforementioned genre: Pishamen goes to Nezha's banquet, but he either arrives late or not a lot of people show up, and Nezha gets so angry that he's ready to stab Pishamen with a sword, until Pishamen reveals that Amitabha is inside his palm and he cheers up again.

-Based on other inscriptions in Cave 72 where the "Nezha Banquet" paintings are titled as "Amitabha Enters the Pagoda and Arrives at Nezha's Banquet" and "Heavenly Lord Pishamen Invites Amitabha into the Pagoda for Nezha's Banquet", we can make some guesses about the above story.

-Perhaps Pishamen promises Nezha that guests/Amitabha will come to his banquet, no one shows up, thus Nezha gets murderously mad at him until Pishamen reveals Amitabha sitting inside his pagoda like a surprise present?

(Sidenote: later, Pishamen gets syncretized with the historical Tang general, Li Jing, and becomes a separate character known as "Devaraja Li". It wasn't a thing in the Tang-Song sources yet, though.)

-Nezha returning his flesh and bone to his parents is a thing that first shows up in Buddhist compendiums of the Song dynasty (景德传灯录，五灯会元) as a Chan riddle. Being a riddle, it just states that he returns his bones to his father, his flesh to his mother, then sits atop a lotus and preached the Buddhist laws to his parents.

-The "return of flesh & bone" may have been a derivative of Nezha's quote in the aforementioned Tooth Relic story, where he's like "I'll even give up my head and eyes, why won't I offer up [the relic]?"

-The way this riddle has been used, though, is very much centered around identity, seeing through the emptiness of the Five Skandas, and the delusion of the false self.

-There's also this Southern Song quote from 如净和尚语录 that described an opera performance scene where Nezha appeared on stage, likely performing the above narrative of "returning his flesh and bones" because he's described as taking off his clothes.

"…十二峰前上戏棚,那咤赤脱点天强。"

-Su Zhe, brother of the famous poet Su Shi, has an entire poem dedicated to Nezha. Here's a translation of the relevant lines, from Meir Shahar's Oedipal God:

The Northern Heavenly King had a son who was mad: He only venerated the Buddha—not his dad. The Buddha, knowing he was crazy and hard to be told, Ordered the father a magic stupa in his left hand to hold. Approaching the Buddha, the child bowed his head, Not unlike revering his dad.

-Aside from that, he's also known in Song sayings and poems for his wrathful demeanor——to the point of often having the adjective "Wrathful" attached to his name (忿怒哪吒).

-Fun fact, the discrepancy between Nezha having 6 arms or 8 arms appears in this period too, though 8 arms are the more commonly accepted version in textual sources.

-Lastly, a story from the Southern Song compendium Yijian Zhi mentions Daoist Master Cheng from the Mt. Mao tradition using Nezha's Fireball Spell to defeat a stone demon. This may be the first appearance of a Daoist-ized Nezha.

TL;DR: Nezha in the Tang-Song period was very much a Buddhist guardian deity who miiiight also be a Yaksha general, most well-known for his wrathful demeanor and multi-headed, multi-armed form.

The earliest mentions of the "Returning of flesh and bones" also don't have its later association with filial piety/father-son conflict, and is mostly a Chan Buddhist riddle.

Bibliography:

付方彦，《哪吒形象流变研究》

郭俊叶，《托塔天王与哪吒——兼谈敦煌毗沙门天王赴哪吒会图》

李小荣, 《那吒故事起源补考》

刘文刚，《哪吒神形象演化考论》

罗俊，《符号学视角下中国古代哪吒形象的演变》

任婧,《从无名氏到大英雄：论哪吒形象的演变与东传》

Shahar, Meir. Oedipal God: The Chinese Nezha and His Indian Origins. University of Hawai'i Press, 2015.

王彦明，《哪吒话头的禅林传播与明清小说的多元互动》

[datura-tea]

anyway sorry i haven't been around here much - i've been busy with irl stuff! like dnd! i've been playing with some friends and it's been really fun so far :)

here's my character, badette:

she's a barbarian tiefling who was raised by giants, and can, consequently, become a giant when she's in a rage! also she has wings and can fly. so imagine you're fighting something and then you see a flying, raging, giant pink tiefling about to attack you with her greataxe. i'd be terrified

[pyrriax]

hi tumblr im pyrr pyrriax and im in my trimonthly artist arc, lord help me and all the projects that are currently sitting in my drafts while i am lured in by the siren song of drawing

[afterthelambs]

.

[tahbhie]

The Act of Writing Psychotic Characters 

Part 1: Attention vs Intention

It's been a while since I received this request, and I ensured I took my time with the thoughts, evaluation, and analysis. This topic will be covered in three parts, so here's the first.

Before we proceed, please note that I am not a psychiatrist, psychologist, or any professional in that field. This is just an insight into how this kind of concept can fit into your novels.

Okay, let's begin.

The Attention vs Intention part of this topic will discuss two ways of portraying these type of characters in scenes. 

First, you need to understand that psychotic characters aren't psychotic based solely on their speeches or actions. If that's all you have in mind before approaching a story, you might leave a huge gap in the execution.

Rather, it's how they feel—the desire to satisfy their current emotions.

They have drives and motives, but most especially beliefs which, in most cases, are hardly understandable by other people. It's wrong and unacceptable by society, but to them, they wouldn't do it any differently.

That's why most psychotic characters have no remorse. You simply can't apologize or feel sorry if you don't 'believe' that you're in the wrong.

➜ Attention Psychosis

Psychotic characters whose main purpose in a story is limited to presence (i.e., showing up in scenes and visibly serving the role of a psychotic character) are attention psychotics. You don't flesh out their backstory or why they are who they are.

Their drives and motives aren't talked about enough to the point of justification. Readers hardly care about them, but the action they bring to the scene creates a rich narrative with the purpose of psychosis.

In summary, their role is minor. We see such cases in movies like The Babysitter.

Let's agree that none of the cult characters in that movie are exactly sane, as their main aim is to end their victims’ lives in the sickest ways possible. However, there's a certain character, Max, who simply enjoys the idea of "killing and seeing people bleed."

That has exceeded the central idea of being a cultist who gets involved in blood sacrifice to achieve their 'dream life' like the rest of the characters. It's now something more and different.

Something that has to do with homicidal ideation.

Max worked in a diner where he dealt with people that annoyed him so greatly that he wanted to kill them. So he got the opportunity to join a cult and do just that.

It was plain clear this guy had something else going on for him, but throughout the movie, his character had no special attention or even a peek into his thoughts. Although, it still worried the audience. Job done.

➜ Intention Psychosis

When a story is centered around a character's mental state, their motives, drives, beliefs, actions, and the story actually unfolds by going deeper into this concept, you have intention psychosis.

If not entirely, at least mostly, it defines the entire plot surrounding that character. People get to understand why they are who they are, their mode of action, what drives them, and even a peek into how they perceive the world around them.

Such scenarios are seen in movies like The Joker and Pyramid game (Korea). The audience gets a glimpse into their overall life and understands at least to an extent why they are the way they are.

Their beliefs get twisted for certain reasons, and there was just no stopping them. Here the characters were more than a presence; they were a central core.

In the movie Joker, we watched Arthur’s impoverished life unfold, with every event and incident worsening his condition further.

Baek Ha-rin in Pyramid Game literally created an entire game system to watch a student, who happened to be her old friend, suffer both physically and mentally. She went to great lengths to carry out this nefarious act under the guise of the game. Although this movie encompassed more than just this storyline, it was hard to ignore the unhealthy drive and actions of the young lady with an innocent face.

Before incorporating a psychotic character in your novel, determine their form of portrayal and appearance in the overall story. Are they going to serve as an attention psychotic or an intention psychotic?

Inspired by @sothera

Stay tuned for the next part!

۝ Before you go! ۝

My Characters and I is an extensive one-on-one coaching session designed to create characters that leap off the pages and become best friends with your readers.

What's a great story without remarkable characters? Spots are filling up fast, so grab yours now and get ahead of millions of writers out there.

👇👇👇

[nyerus]

A Masterpost for the Revised Version of TGCF

Due to the amount and frequency of misinformation about the revised version of TGCF, I wanted to make a post to serve as a resource for those who are confused about it, while also helping to debunk some of the sensationalist rumors floating around.

This post will be edited to include new things as needed.

⚠️Spoiler Warning: if you have not finished reading the original novel, or want to experience the new scenes from the revised naturally/fresh, please proceed with caution! I've intentionally kept things as vague as possible, but some spoilers are unavoidable!⚠️

✨ PART ONE: Frequently Asked Questions ✨

🔹What is the "revised" version of TGCF?

MXTX had been working on a revised version of TGCF since completing the original, as mentioned this in her postscript/afterword, and in an online interview (Q.27) done years ago just as she competed TGCF. That's all that was known for several years.

In early 2023, TGCF was finally released in print format in mainland China — and this was revealed to be the revised version! Due to regulations, this was a censored edition. However, in early 2024, the uncensored edition was uploaded to JJWXC (the site where all of MXTX's webnovels were originally published)! It's currently fully available to read in Simplified Chinese.

If you want a more in-depth explanation about the revised, please see my post about that here.

🔹What does the revised change compared to the original?

Several scenes have been added, some removed, others expanded upon. Overall, MXTX reportedly wrote 100k characters (words) of new content. While the overarching plot of each arc and the novel as a whole remains the same, it's a more cohesive and polished story. Pacing in each part of the story has been adjusted to flow better, especially in arcs notorious for feeling slow or disjointed.

Some segments have had fairly significant changes — namely the Bloody Banquet/Fang Xin Guoshi arc. (Though it still plays out much the same way.) Most others have smaller changes.

A new extra was also added, called "the Ghost King Dressed Down," which has been translated by Scarabsi on twitter.

🔹How does the revised version effect characters?

Apart from certain minor characters — such as the child Lang Ying who was removed entirely — there haven't been many drastic changes. The biggest thing was side characters like Lang Qianqiu and Ling Wen being given notably more backstory to further flesh them out. Their characterization itself hasn't changed, however.

🔹Which version is canon, then?

Whichever you want, and you can mix-and-match! MXTX has given fans her blessings and encouragement!

🔹How do I read the revised version in English?

Currently, there are no official or unofficial English translations of the whole revised version. Nor are there any plans to do so for the near future.

However, there are English fan translations of a few notable chapters, which you can read here. There's also instructions on that site on how to read the rest of the updated webnovel in English, using a browser extension.

Additionally, the audio drama is adapting the uncensored revised version, and has been doing an amazing job! Check out how to listen to that with English subs here.

✨PART TWO: Debunking Rumors & Clearing up Misinformation✨

Note that all chapter numbers given will be referencing the webnovel's. The old chapters are also available towards the bottom of the page as "serialized versions."

(Translated screenshots provided are janky because it's just basic google MTL!)

🔸"Mentions of Mu Qing's mother was removed from the revised!"

Not at all! Both his parents are still mentioned, along with how Mu Qing is the primary breadwinner due to his mom's failing eyesight. (Ch. 57)

🔸"The earring scene isn't there anymore!"

The earring scene is still very much there! Not actually sure why this is a rumor at all, when the whole earring thing spans several chapters. Here's the conclusion of it (Ch. 59):

🔸"Characters have been butchered in general, with Mu Qing especially getting scenes cut!"

No character (who didn't straight-up get deleted) has been butchered. Nor has any character been singled out for having their scenes deleted/changed, because that's happened to every character — yes, including Xie Lian and Hua Cheng! — and they also have new scenes added!

E.g. the scene where Mu Qing picks the cherries is removed, because that whole section was changed. (However, it's still mentioned that others are prejudiced against him due to his background, and so on.) Meanwhile, there's a brand-new scene that shows Mu Qing's aptitude in treating wounds, as well as he and Feng Xin having new hijinks as "junior officials" with Xie Lian, and more.

Despite the rumors, characters haven't been flattened to make them more one-dimensional compared to Hualian. Perhaps the idea of certain scenes being cut sounds scary for characterization, but a lot of the original has been retained one way or another. In many cases, MXTX just condensed things, or moved them around. The revised is meant to be looked at as a whole, after all.

🔸"Mu Qing now leaves for no reason in Book/Arc 4, instead of for his mother!"

Mu Qing clearly states in the revised that he wants to leave in order to find a way to improve their situation, since they anyways cannot agree amongst themselves. Just like in the original, he was frustrated and felt there was no point in continuing along the same path. (Ch 152)

And yes, he does not bring up his mother in the revised scene. For context: there is a three year gap between the end of Book/Arc 2 and the start of 4. Which means in the original, Mu Qing didn't mention his mother for those three years. Given the events leading to his departure, and what follows, this causes several inconsistencies.

That is a whole topic unto itself, however. But it's not surprising the revised did it a bit differently.

🔸"Feng Xin isn't as funny anymore!"

Feng Xin is actually one of the least changed characters! This rumor likely stems from the scene where Xie Lian reveals his password, to Feng Xin, who no longer rolls on the floor while laughing. Or maybe it's a miscommunication based on the printed revised, which censored some of his (and Qi Rong's) cursing. But that was only for the printed!

🔸"Ling Wen's character isn't as interesting because of the changes!"

People will really say anything on the internet. She's been given more depth and complexity, if anything. There's new scenes that expand on her background and early days in heaven, and her relationship with Bai Jing has been given a lot of extra attention. Her motivations and actions remain the same, but if the subtext was missed in the original, it could have led to some readers thinking of Ling Wen as certain way. Like a ruthless girlboss.

The revised reiterating that this isn't the case doesn't change or detract from her, as that was one of the points of her story to begin with. Plus, the revised arc gives Bai Jing much-needed characterization.

🔸"Ling Wen's ascension is now due to Jing Wen/not on her own merit/etc!"

Frankly, this rumor might be due to people not properly understanding how ascension works in TGCF, and thinking the revised is adding something that they forgot was already in the original. The revised didn't change anything about the manner in which Ling Wen ascended.

You can actually check out the revised Brocade Immortal arc here for yourself, as it's been fan translated!

🔸"The dynamic between Hualian is different in the revised!"

Their dynamic is exactly the same as before, only reinforced if anything. If the new additions are enough to destroy someone’s image of Hualian or turn it on its head, that’s definitely not a fault with either novel version!

🔸"The scene where Hua Cheng is disguised as Lang Ying and accidentally catches Xie Lian bathing is removed!"

Unfortunately, yes, the bathing scene is gone. However, Hua Cheng in disguise is still there — he's a village kid instead.

🔸"MXTX made changes to side characters/ships because she felt threatened by their popularity compared to her main couple!"

This one just doesn't really make sense, because several side characters were given *more* content — including their relationships.

Lang Qianqiu finally feels like an actual character. Quan Yizhen and Yin Yu have new stuff about them. Shi Wudu has some clever little cameos. Pei Ming’s feelings about Yushi Huang are brought up. Pei Xiu’s backstory is even more heartbreaking. Qi Rong has new scenes that make him feel genuinely menacing. Xiao Ying’s been completely revamped. These are just to name a few, and excluding things already talked about above.

It seems unlikely that MXTX would go through the trouble of adding to her side characters if she didn’t care about them, felt they weren’t important, or thought they were getting undeserved attention. Besides, popular characters like Shi Qingxuan and He Xuan had no cuts to their arc!

Looking at the actual metrics… MXTX has no need to feel threatened by her side ships vs her main ships.

[batbux]

One of the bats has to go undercover as a patient of a particularly suspect new and upcoming therapist. Bruce already has a backstory fleshed out and a cover identity, but that's no fun now is it.

Dick: Okay, the bat council is now in session. First things first-

Steph: I'm the realest.

Jason: Shut the fuck up.

Dick: No, no arguing. We're here on a MISSION.

Tim: That's right, a very important mission.

Dick: One of us has to go undercover as Dr. Hoffman's patient. But why? Why are we seeking therapy?

Tim: Wrong answers only. If any of you get too real, Dick can and will find you a real therapist.

Dick: And Tim, no superhero related answers. Bernard's PowerPoint nights give you too much of an advantage.

Tim: You're just jealous I know that Batman is actually a tulpa.

Jason: You shut the fuck up too.

---

Dick: Okay, I'll go first to get the obvious answer out of the way. I'm going because I'm secretly Batman, BUT I'm not here about that. I just have incredibly selective amnesia and can't remember the code to the Batmobile.

Jason: Oh that one's good. Let me think.

Steph: Hoffman is a man, right?

Dick: Right.

Steph: Easy, I'll claim womanly problems. Maybe get prescribed a vibrator.

Tim: *wheezes*

Dick: Ok Gotham's in the dark ages of psychology but not THAT much.

Steph: Spoilsport. Fine, I'm Batman's long lost twin sister.

Duke: Come on, we can't all go to therapy because of Batman.

Jason: I don't know, I feel like all of us should go to therapy because of Batman.

Cass: I'll go because I'm Batman.

Jason: I'd vote for you.

Duke: I think I would go because Metropolis isn't real.

Tim: Like, the whole city is-

Duke: It's a conspiracy. The government wants us to think there's this wonderful city where nothing bad ever happens and an actual alien from space saves the day. Tries to make us buy into some utopian bullshit.

Tim: Hoffman's just going to drive you there.

Duke: Ha! He's not getting ME to a secondary location. He might be in on it.

Steph: Compelling, definitely compelling. I nominate Duke's for first place.

Jason: Don't jump the gun.

Tim: Yeah, you haven't heard ours.

Steph: Well? Let's hear it then.

Tim: I'm an alien spy, sent here to study humans. Only I'm not doing well because I was taken in by rich people and they act weirder than me. I want to know what it means to be human, but whenever I look around all I see is how to make a good margarita. It makes me... sad.

Steph: That's no good. We said wrong answers only.

Jason: Solid four out of ten.

Tim: Fuck off.

Jason: I think I would go because I was convinced I was the second coming of Jesus which is all fine and good, but my whole family is Jewish so it's making things a little awkward at the dinner table.

Steph: You did come back from the dead.

Jason: I did and I'll tell him that. Took a little longer than three days this time, though.

Tim: Okay, I'll be honest. Jason and Duke's are the best.

Dick: Hold on- Damian, do you have an answer?

Damian: Of course. And not one so foolish.

Duke: Well?

Damian: Well, my whole family is comprised of vigilantes and I'm under a lot of stress to be one as well and continue the family tradition. I will of course swear him to secrecy and avoid naming any vigilantes by name.

Dick: ...

Jason: This is what I'm talking about. This is exactly what I'm-

Dick: Yes, okay. Game's over. All of you are getting psych referrals in your inbox by the morning.

Steph: What about-

Dick: Duke won.

[celestiamour]

‧₊˚✧ ❛[ pocket powerhouse ]❜

━━━ .°˖✧ requested by @klerns-birdie ˚₊ ⊹

ft. logan howlett x f! reader x wade wilson — xmen, marvel

╰₊✧ entering the void with their tiny, mighty companion┊1.4k words

setting: deadpool & wolverine (2024) worst! logan contains: canon typical blood & violence (and murder lol), reader is described as short & cute, super strength mutation, reader is the one who kills sabertooth in this one, fourth-wall break

➤ author's note: this was funnier in my head

they had you surrounded on all fronts, some standing before you and others on armored vehicles, holding their weapons and fists up ready to strike at any moment. if they didn’t clearly have bad intentions, then you would have been flattered at this little welcome party gathering together after only a few minutes of being sent into the void. they probably heard the ruckus wade and logan were making since they simply couldn’t keep their hands off of each other.

meaning, they couldn’t stop beating each other up and using any means necessary to shed blood or break bones despite it all being healed within the span of seconds.

you find the only successful way to get them to stop trying to kill each other is by threatening to kill them first, throwing a punch into the ground to destroy it under you as a means to grab their attention while shouting that you’ll decapitate them if they continue.

they listen to you most of the time and drop the mini battles, not because they believe you would actually do it, but because they believe they are humoring you by doing so (and because they know to sit down and shut up when a pretty woman tells them to). with super-strength as your mutation, you could do it with ease, they know you can— it’s just so difficult to think that such a cute little thing who pouts when ignored and is frequently used as an armrest due to short stature would ever do anything of the sort. you still have yet to act on your warnings, only depending on bloodlust-filled glares to settle them down much like a teacher waiting for her noisy class to be quiet.

logan thinks you all bark and no bite, wade compares you to an angry bunny, it’s safe to say they take what you say with a grain of salt, exchanging amused looks and admiring how cute you are when yelling profanities and gory details of how you’re going to maim them. (blah, blah, blah, proper name, place name— backstory stuff)

the three of you cringed at the failure of johnny storm, grimacing when his balls probably got crushed on a metal pole and every time he hit his head before getting captured. his end goal was clearly to escape, but you didn’t quite know how he was planning to get there when he set himself alight and started flying.

“i know you!” a large man with flowing blonde hair jumped off the tank, landing with a heavy thud on the compacted sand.

“oh my god, that’s sabertooth, peanut’s brother,” wade explained.

“brother? they don’t really look anything alike aside from being… uh… feral?”

“well you see, apparently there are some discrepancies about that. the author isn’t sure about anything because her bitch-ass still hasn’t watched any of the x-men movies or done her research. something about ‘being too busy with real life,’ can you believe that?”

“okay, you lost me when you started talking about ‘an author,’ but lay off her!”

sabertooth growled at logan, “ready to die?” 

“hey, don’t threaten him! i don’t care if he’s your brother, he’s my friend!” you interrupted, walking up to him, acting nonchalantly like he was a teddy bear when he was truly a grizzly. he was much taller than you too, towering over you and leaving you in his shadow.

“get outta my way, girlie” he barked, extending his claws, prepared to sink them into your flesh. “you’re lucky you’re cute, or else i already would have killed you.”

“aww, thank you! but i can’t accept compliments from someone who wants to kill my friend, so to that, i say ‘fuck off!’”

before he could let out a roar about how you should know who you’re talking to or swipe his claws at your face, you lifted your hand and slapped him across the face. it was much like a dramatic slap from television shows where the girl finds out her boyfriend is cheating on her or something, except his head went flying off into the distance and sprayed blood everywhere. it happened so quickly that his body stood there for a second before flopping over.

“oh my god!” wade exclaimed, cupping his face in his hands from surprise before excitedly clapping them together, “oh my god, that’s my girl— that’s our girl! see, that’s what happens when you enlist a y/n on your team, i told you that it was a good idea to take her with us!” he picked up the decapitated head and waved his arms around, paying no mind to the dripping red iron spilling on his costume, “you bitches saw that? she’s cute ‘n tiny but mighty, and she’ll absolutely fuck you up!”

the victory was short-lived as they took advantage of logan’s adamantium skeleton and other large pieces to scrap to trap all of you to a magnet. normally, this would be a breeze for you to get yourself out of, but you got hit in the head and quickly fell unconscious for them to ship you all away to cassandra.

when you finally woke up, you’re tied back-to-back with johnny and find your two companions in a similar position. “are you guys okay?”

“they’re asleep, but i’m okay,” logan answered, voice uncharacteristically amiable. despite being just as annoying as deadpool, he liked you a whole lot more and never spoke to you as roughly as he did to him. you were sweeter, more empathetic and understanding that he needed his own space, and, he isn’t going to lie, very easy on the eyes. “and you?”

“i’m okay! my head really hurts though…” you winced and shook your head a few times, trying to get the pounding sensation out. “god, this place is crazy. first we get teleported to this junkyard and then—”

“did you really mean what you said back there?”

“what did i say?”

“well… you…” god, he felt stupid, he was about to back out and say ‘nevermind,’ but he knows that you wouldn’t have let him go so easily. “you said that i was your friend…”

“yeah! you are! i mean, i killed your brother for you even though you could have done it yourself, putting myself in danger just so that you didn’t have to— you better consider me a friend too!”

he should tell you that you shouldn’t call him that nor think of him that way since nothing good ever comes out associating with him, but he can’t bring himself to say the words he’s routinely told others to successfully push them away. something about the look in your eyes, the way they sparkled when you looked at him. something about your smile, toothy and full of hope for the future to make up for his lack of. something about you makes him keep his mouth shut.

instead, he looks away, muttering a quiet word of thanks.

you tilt your head in slight confusion, not understanding the depth of your statement yet and how it managed to pull a word of gratitude out of a man who was in a constant state of irritation, but it made you irrationally happy and giddy inside.

wade was murmuring a few unintelligible sentences before coming to, and despite wearing a mask that covered his entire face, you could envision the mild look of disgust behind the leather as clear as day. “ew, why are you smiling like that??” he took a glance at you and then back at him, repeating the process a few times. “what the fuck? you guys can’t have a love story and leave me out of it! i’m the reason you two even met—” he finally seemed to process the situation from the close proximity with logan, looking him in the eyes through the white fabric of his mask and trying to find a way to loosen it to no avail. “how long have i been asleep?”

“not all of you was asleep.”

johnny seemed to wake up as well, beginning to tell a whole bunch of exposition about this place you were trapped in, something about a monster that would swallow you up and a “her” who runs this entire place. he laughed at the notion of evading this woman’s grasp, but wade thought otherwise.

“nah, we can take her! i have a pocket powerhouse and the wolverine on my side, i’m not scared of anything!”

no one quite believes him, but it’s nice to see that your optimism has rubbed off on him.

[roseghoul26]

Cooper Howard x vault born reader. She's from one of the more messed up experiment vaults, when she uncovered the truth of the vault she runs away from it. The first interaction they have is when he tells her he fucking hates vault dwellers and she tells him "I don't really give a shit what YOU think of me". She's been in the wastes a good long while, has a lot of skills and they end up traveling together and getting close. The area she is naive in is sex her interpretation is it's boring, and hurts. He of course tries to explain that it's not suposed to feel like that. They become really close he asks if he can show her which she agrees, she cums harder than she ever has before he has to remind her to breath through it, maybe she squirts and is embarrassed he realizes it's new for her, tells her it normal and that he loves it. Bonus points for: squirting, choking, hair pulling.

Cooper Howard | The Ghoul x fem!Reader

Synopsis: A discussion with The Ghoul reveals things that you never wished to tell him, including your views on intimacy, and lack of experience. When he offers to show you what you were missing out on, how could you say no? Tags: Not Beta Read, Prompt Request, Backstory for Reader, Virgin Reader, Inexperienced Reader, Banter, This one might be even more OOC for The Ghoul, Soft Ghoul, Smut, Squirting, Doggystyle, Hair Pulling, Dirty Talk, Choking, Confessions (kind of) Author's Note: i know that vault 75 is actually like on the other side of the us from where the show takes place but this vault always stuck out to me so i needed to use it for the prompt lmao.  also thank you anon for the amazing prompt (and my first ever request :D) ! i hope this fulfilled it sufficiently!

If you’d told yourself a year ago that you’d be traveling the surface with an irradiated man dressed as a cowboy who only kept you around because you could make him his drugs, you’d call yourself insane, and rightfully so.

But here you were, following after him like an obedient soldier, just like you were raised to be. For the past few months, you had wandered alongside The Ghoul, searching for your purpose on the surface. There was a deal between you two; he’ll travel with you, and you’d make him the chems that stopped him from turning into a feral. 

It was a reluctant acquaintanceship at best, The Ghoul keeping you at an arm's length, and you didn’t blame him. The reason he had difficulty trusting you fully was because you were vault born, which he made abundantly clear when the two of you first started traveling. You spent the first eighteen years of your life in Vault 75,  where you were trained, both mentally and physically, to become the perfect soldier and scientist that would bring justice to the surface world. That had been your life’s goal, up until you turned eighteen. 

Along with the rest of the top peers, you were selected to make your way to the surface. But before you could leave they provided a vaccine, claiming that it would build immunity against the radiation that still plagued the earth. 

In actuality, it had been a sedative, and you remember awaking some time later, suspended in a glass chamber. For days, months, years, you weren’t quite sure, you were prodded, stabbed, cut open. It was pure agony, moments that you only remember in your darkest dreams, leaving you panting and shaking. To this day, you still weren’t fully sure what they had done to you, but you knew they had quite literally taken things from you that you’d never get back. 

Somehow, you managed to break free of the sedative that they continuously pumped into your body, keeping you alive yet without control of your body. You weren’t certain how you managed to escape, but you remembered that your hands and knuckles were bloody pulps, glass embedded into the flesh, fingers broken and mangled. Even now, you could still see the scars that still lingered, and the way your fingers looked off, bones not set right. It caused you issues and aches, but luckily today was a low-pain day. 

A gruff drawl snapped you out of your reminiscing, and you looked up from your hand into the eerily human eyes of The Ghoul, who had stopped in front of you. “What?” You had missed what he said. 

“The fuck you doin’?” 

“I… my hand hurts,” you lied. “Sorry.” 

He angrily grumbled something under his breath, yet you watched him dig into one of the pockets of his trench coat. He pulled out a small pill bottle, and after double-checking the contents he tossed it to you, and you caught it with your non-injured one. “Keep yer head on,” he added before turning to keep walking. 

You didn’t have to look at the bottle to know what he’d given you: painkillers. He’d always give them to you whenever your pain would flare, and each time you reevaluate your relationship with him. You couldn’t figure out if he detest you or cared about you, whether he saw you as a friend or foe. He was a confusing person, and his hard exterior and guarded responses to your questions made him hard to understand. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, and if he heard you he didn’t respond, just continuing to walk away. Tucking the pills away, you jogged to catch up with him, keeping a few feet distance between the two of you. 

Looking around, you tried to make some sense of the dilapidated buildings and cracked roads, creating an image in your head of what you imagined the town to once be. Full of energy, full of life, able to roam without fear of being killed by man or creature, or fear of being slowly poisoned to death by radiation. 

There was a row of buildings on either side of the road, most caved in, but there were still a few that remained, windows shattered or boarded up. Rusted mental skeletons of cars littered the road, you and The Ghoul having to weave around them. Glass crunched underneath your boots, and you swore you stepped on a few bones. 

Glancing at the road, you noted how elongated the shadows were, and you didn’t have to glance behind you to know that the sun was setting, night right on the precipice of falling. Not wanting to become a late night snack for a deathclaw or some ferals, you cleared your throat, getting the attention of The Ghoul. He stilled, turning his head over his shoulder to look at you. “We should find a place to stop soon.”

You watched him debate it for a second, eyes flicking from the setting sun to the walk in front of him, then to the buildings on either side of you two. Eventually he came to a decision, sighing. “There’s a standin’ building’ down a little ways. We’ll stop there.”

You were eager to finally rest, the rifle in your hands was becoming heavy and the straps of your backpack were digging into your shoulders, so you had a bit more energy in your step as you continued down the street. As you reached the end of the street, you were able to see the building he had mentioned. It was an old shop of sorts, any signs long since gone, but it looked still relatively intact.

The Ghoul got there first, like he normally did. Opening the door with one hand, he held his gun in the other, raised and ready to shoot. He swept the room as he entered, and you follow hot on his heels, gun at the ready. 

In the dim light, you were able to see rows of shelves in the main area, a small desk with a register tucked into the left corner. There was a closed door behind the desk, and another on the rightmost wall of the building, also closed. 

Stepping further in, you were able to start making out the contents on the shelves: boxes and packages of food, no doubt beyond edible, labels faded away. But you also saw a few cans of food littering about, but you’d have to look through them once you’d cleared the building. 

Focusing back on the task at hand, you watched him peer into the far right room, before turning and speaking to you. “Check the desk,” he kept his voice low, as to not alert any possible dwellers. Nodding, you carefully made your way over to the desk, eyes rapidly scanning your environment. 

You tried to open the door, but it merely rattled against the frame, locked shut. If you had the tools, or the patience, you would’ve tried to pick the lock, but you didn’t care that much. Besides, if there was anything in there that was alive, it wouldn’t be able to get you. 

The desk didn’t have much to offer, either. Partial destroyed papers dotted the desk, and the register sat broken and open, robbed of the pre-war cash that once resided in it. You were a tad bit disappointed; it always made for great kindling. 

Searching through the rest of the drawers, you only found garbage, and after a few moments you gave up trying to find anything of value. You slowly made your way back over to The Ghoul, who had better luck than you with his door. You could hear him digging through drawers as you entered, and you were sure to make some audible noise so as to not startle him. 

It was a small living area, a twin bed tucked into the corner, as well as a kitchenette and small desk. A TV and couch sat in the center, and you saw another door, opened by The Ghoul, which you presumed was the bathroom. “Not bad,” you commented. This was truly one of the better places the two of you had stopped at; this at least had four walls and a roof. 

He grunted in response, still rifling through drawers. “Find anythin’?”

You shook your head. “I’ll go look again,” you responded, and before you backed out of the room you dumped your bag on the floor. You sighed happily at the relief, rubbing your shoulders as you began to look through the shelves again.

You didn’t bother to look at the boxed goods, heading straight to the few canned items you saw. The cans were still whole, thankfully, but the labels were long since gone. Shrugging, you grabbed the cans, about four in total, and brought them back to the other room, dumping them on the counter of the kitchenette. 

“What’s that?” You heard him ask, spurs clicking on the linoleum floor as he came over to you. The room was now illuminated by a small oil lantern placed on the desk. 

“No idea. But they’re still good. Probably.” You spoke as you moved to sit on the counter, legs dangling. Man, did it feel good to sit after walking all day. You reached for your knife, cursing when you felt empty space instead, your knife in the bag instead of on you. 

Before you could even get down, The Ghoul handed you his knife, the blade glinting in the low light. He pointed the handle towards you, and you took it from him, and you murmured a small thanks. You got to work opening the first can, hunger making your stomach rumble. The knife plunged in and out of the tin top, peeling back the rest once you got most of it cut. 

It was an almost gelatinous red substance inside, with darker red, round something suspended in it. It smelled sweet, sugary even, and you tried to tilt it into your mouth, but it didn’t budge. Maybe it had gone bad, then. 

Confused, you reached down to the drawer that was in between your legs, managing to get it open enough to reach your hand in. You grabbed the first utensil feeling thing you could find, and to your delight it was a fork. You didn’t waste any time, taking a decent-sized forkful and bringing it to your mouth. 

It was overwhelmingly sweet, and you’re sure you made some face, because The Ghoul was chuckling lightly. It wasn’t bad, but it almost hurt to eat, and the gelatinous nature of it made it stick to your teeth. “That’s whatcha get for eatin’ unlabeled food.”

You shook your head. “It’s not bad. It’s just… sweet.”

He hummed curiously, and you offered the can to him. You laughed when he eyed it suspiciously. “I promise you, it doesn’t taste bad. And I haven’t poisoned it,” you teased.

“I’m surprised you haven’t,” he grumbled, but he took the can from you. 

“I wouldn’t,” you grabbed and handed a utensil to him. “I rather like your company.”

See, as fun as it was to be out on the road, nothing but the endless horizon in front of you, it was the nights that you truly cherished. He didn’t talk much while you walked, keeping a literal and metaphorical distance between the two of you. It was like when he was on the road, he was The Ghoul, a cunning and vicious bounty hunter. But when it was just the two of you, secluded away in some abandoned house, around a fire, wherever, it was like the human side of him resurfaced, leading way to conversation and… friendship? 

You had no idea if he considered you a friend, but you knew you considered him to be one. It wasn’t like you had any other person in this wretched world, your “friends” from the vault turned enemy. As a wanderer, it was hard to build and maintain relationships with other people, so you chose to just stick with The Ghoul. 

And you wouldn’t lie, there was something beyond “friendship” that you felt for The Ghoul. It had taken too long for you to even admit that to yourself, so it was unlikely that you were going to admit to him. Besides, it went against everything that you were raised to believe, and even though you’d long since left the vault, their ideas were still ingrained into your brain.

“Not sure why,” he muttered before eating a spoonful of the mysterious substance. You were barely able to see it, but his upper lip twitched into an almost smile. You always liked when he smiled. It was rare for him, a genuine smile. He’d sneer and smirk, sure, but it was those true smiles that got your heart beating faster and your knees getting weak. You refused to name the reason why your body reacted the way it did, not wanting to face the reality that you felt something for The Ghoul just yet.

“It’s pie filling. Cherry pie filling, to be exact,” he lifted up another spoonful, one of the dark red balls on it, covered in the sheer red substance. 

“Cherry pie filling?” You said each of the words as their own question. You’d never heard of any of what he was talking about. 

He rolled his eyes, handing the can back to you, and you took another bite. You still weren’t used to the sweetness of it. “Fuckin’ vault dwellers,” he sighed. “Cherry’s a fruit. Pie is a pastry. Filling is what you put into pie.”

It didn’t clear up anything, but you nodded anyway, not wanting to annoy him further. “Interesting.” Taking one final bite, you set it next to you, moving on to the next can. You were in the middle of opening the second one when he spoke

“You mean to tell me they didn’t have pie in your vault?”

You weren’t expecting his question, and you halted mid-cut. He never asked you about the vault you grew up in, and you never told him anything besides the name and that you left. He made his opinion on vaults and vault dwellers abundantly clear when you first met all those months ago, back when your relationship was a tenuous allyship. You hadn't cared what he thought about you and your old life then, telling him straight to his face, and you certainly didn’t care now. But it was curious that he was willingly asking you about it now. 

“No,” you drew out the word, mildly suspicious. “If it didn’t have good nutritional value, then it wasn’t allowed. So no candy, no sugary drinks, no pastries. Nothing like that.” You answered while opening up the second can, and you recognized it immediately: sweet corn.

He didn’t ask any further questions, so you didn’t elaborate. Not needed to do a taste test of the sweet corn, you set it aside, then opened the other two cans, which were baked beans and tomato soup. Wordlessly, The Ghoul grabbed two of the cans, making his way over to the couch, and you followed behind him, the other two cans in your own hands. 

Sitting side-by-side, the two of you ate in silence, and you propped your legs up on the coffee table in front of you. The two of you would eat half the can before passing it off to the other. It was how you shared your dinners for at least the past month. 

It didn’t take long for there to only be the pie filling left, and you held it in your better hand. Even though you’d been free from the vault for some time, a part of you still felt wrong for indulging in a treat like this. Pushing those memories aside, you took another bite before passing it to the man next to you. You jumped when you felt his gloved fingers brush yours, and you missed the way he knowingly chuckled. 

Sighing, you sat back against the couch, ignoring the armor that dug into your shoulders, and you found your eyes flicking back down to your hand. You traced over the scars littering it, a familiar pattern to you at this point, and you flexed your fingers. They popped and cracked, bending unnaturally, and it caused a small jolt of pain to shoot through the nerves. You hadn't realized your eyes weren’t the only one on it until you heard the man beside you speak. “How’d that happen?” 

Now you were suspicious; he sounded like he actually cared. “Did you get replaced with a synth?” You asked, bewildered. 

He rolled his eyes in response, taking another bite before setting the can on the coffee table in front of you two. “I realize I don’t know a lot ‘bout you.”

“I didn’t think you cared,” you admitted. “But,” you added when he glared at you, “if you really want to know, I got it by punching something. Repeatedly.”

“If that’s your fist, I’d hate to see the other person,” he muttered. 

“Something, not someone. It was, well, glass.”

“Why the fuck were you punchin’ glass?”

“It was the only way I could escape.” You laughed humorlessly when he glanced at you, confused. “What, you think I left the vault freely?” You shook your head. “After my eighteenth birthday, they trapped me in a chamber so they could harvest stuff from my body, pumping me full of sedative and rapid-healing agents. Something about creating the ‘perfect human’. Eventually, the drug they used to keep me docile stopped working, and I was able to smash my way out. I’m pretty sure there’s some glass still left in my hand,” you chuckled, stopping when you realized he wasn’t joining in. “It’s fine. I’ve repressed most of the memories anyway.”

“Not well enough,” he muttered more to himself, and you couldn’t help the small bit of dread that washed over you at the realization that he knew about your nightmares. They made you feel weak, and you didn’t want him to think you were. 

“Well, I….” You trailed off with a sigh, finding it not worth it to try and disagree, sitting back on the couch. “Rude.”

“So you do have nightmares.” He chuckled at the glare you gave him once you realized you fell into his trap. “Are they ‘bout that?”

“Is this an interrogation?” You asked, getting defensive. “Why the fuck do you care? You haven’t before.”

“If ya paid attention, I said I barely know anythin’ ‘bout you. Figured if we’re gonna continue to travel I should know more besides your name.” He sighed before adding, “This ain’t an interrogation. You… you can ask me whatcha like.”

His reluctant openness made you feel more comfortable, and you relaxed a bit. “Really?”

“Sure, why the hell not. But answer my question first.”

There was silence for a few beats. “Fine. Yes, they’re about when they had me trapped. It’s… it’s mostly the pain I remember. And their faces, the people who raised me, who I trusted.  watching me through the glass. I forget most of the details when I wake, but that’s what sticks out.”

The Ghoul didn’t offer any verbal response, merely nodding his head slowly. You prayed that he couldn’t see the way your hands shook as you willingly brought up those memories in your brain. You shoved them away, forcing a light smile on your face. “My turn.” Adjusting so that your back rested against the arm of the sofa so you were facing him now, your knees tucked up to your chest. “What’s your name?”

He scoffed. “Out of all the questions, that’s the one ya go with?” 

“You don’t have to-”

“Cooper. Cooper Howard.” His response cut you off, and a small smile lifted the corners of your mouth. 

“A pleasure, Cooper Howard,” you smiled gently. It was hardly noticeable, but something shifted in him when he heard you say his name, but you weren’t quite sure what exactly. 

He cleared his throat while adjusting in his seat, his eyes flicking away from your own. “Better not make me regret tellin’ ya that.” 

Your slight smile fell at his semi-threat. “I’m assuming you don’t want me to call you that, then.” His responding silence was answer enough, and you didn’t press it further. “Do you got any more questions for me?”

“Plenty,” he seemed more comfortable now that the attention was off his past life. “Why the hell are ya still travelin’ with me?”

You thought of your answer for a moment. “I wasn’t lying when I said I enjoyed your company. And it’s not like I’ve got any place to go.”

“We’ve traveled to plenty of towns. Why don’t ya just stay there?”

“Do… Do you want me to leave?” It almost hurt to ask. You thought things were amicable between the two of you, and the thought of leaving your one “friend” was something you truly did not want to think about.  

He regarded you for a few moments, eyes dancing over your face. “I suppose not,” he finally sighed out, crossing his arms and resting against the back of the couch.

“Good,” you tried to not sound too relieved. “You’re stuck with me.” You swore you saw a smile tug at his lips.

“Unfortunately.” He didn’t sound too upset about it. “Anythin’ else?”

“Why didn’t you kill me when we met? I tried to rob you, and I’ve seen you kill people for less. You had the gun right to my head; why didn’t you pull the trigger?”

“That’s two questions.”

Rolling your eyes, you scoffed. “They’re the same damn thing. Just… why didn’t you kill me?”

“I dunno why I didn’t kill ya right away. Somethin’ made me hesitate. And then once I realized you was a vault born, I figured I could get a good amount of caps for you, so I kept you alive.” The Ghoul sighed. “I expected to only keep ya ‘round for a week. But then you saved my life, even though I had ya captive, and I couldn’t bring myself to sell you. That’s when I set you free.” He chuckled as he reminisced. “But for some fuckin’ reason, you decided to stick around, and I thought I was gonna regret not killin’ or sellin’ ya.”

“Do you regret it?”

“That’s three questions now, sweetheart.” Your cheeks grew warm at the nickname. It wasn’t the first time he’d called you it, but it always elicited the same reaction from you. “But no. It’s nice, havin’ someone you trust enough to watch your back. After years of solitude, wanderin’ this godforsaken Wasteland with you has been a pleasant change.”

You don’t think you’ve ever heard anyone regard you so kindly, which was insane because of who it was coming from. “Thank you,” you responded, sincerely.

“Before I inflate your ego any more, it’s my turn. Do you miss life in the vault, back before all… that?” He gestured to your hand. 

“Honestly, you’d think I would,” you chuckled. “No danger around every corner, no radiation, no worry about dehydration or starvation. It was secure, but so constricting. Every part of my life was monitored, from the foods I ate, to the things I did, to the people I spoke to. If the higher ups didn’t like it, they’d make me change. If anything threatened the ability to become the most optimized person, then it was removed. I’ve had more freedom during the time I’ve spent up here than I did for the first eighteen years of my life.” You took a breath. “So, no, I don’t miss it.”

It went like that for a good while, you weren't quite sure how long, and eventually the two of you finished off the pie filling. Questions were shot back and forth, and you learned some things about the man beside you that you never thought you’d know. He learned more of the experiments led by Vault 75, and your role in it. You refrained from asking him about his life before becoming The Ghoul, and although he didn’t say it, you could tell that he was grateful. He had long since shed his coat, draping it across the back of the couch, down to only a once luscious blue button down. His hat was also off, sitting on the table alongside the now empty cans. 

You had asked him about the strangest person he’d met, and he was recounting this one “doctor” he’d met in Filly, with greased hair and a rotted cap, selling ailments for quite literally every predicament. “Pretty sure he was fuckin’ the livestock,” he added, and you gapped at him, horrified. “Strange fellow indeed. But, after that it probably has to be this vault born I met, who no matter what I do, refuses to leave.”

“I’m second after that? I… fuck you!” You’d never sworn at him before, but now felt like a good time to change that. 

His brow raised, shocked, and he grinned at you. “Looks like I’m rubbin’ off on ya, sweetheart.”

Rolling your eyes, you tried to hide your own smile behind your knees, which were still tucked up close to you. “It’s your turn. Although, I don’t know if I wanna respond after you insulted me like that.”

“My apologies,” he responded, not sounding sorry at all, especially with the way he continued to chuckle as he thought of a question. “Did ya have friends? Lovers, perhaps?”

If you weren’t blushing because of the nickname, then you certainly were now. It was a taboo subject in your vault, having lovers. Romantic companionship was seen as a hindrance, a liability. “I had some friends, sure, but they all turned out to be back-stabbers or were taken like me. I don’t know if they survived; I couldn’t stop to rescue them if I wanted to live.” You shook off the bit of guilt you felt when thinking of the others. “But I wasn’t close friends with anyone. As weird as it is, you’re the closest thing to a true friend I’ve ever had.”

“You only answered half my question.” Damn him. “Any lovers?”

“No.” Your hand was looking quite interesting now, and you traced over the familiar pattern of the scars again. 

“‘No’? That’s it?” If looks could kill, The Ghoul would be six feet under right now. “Touchy subject?” 

You realized that no matter what you said, he was still going to continue to ask. Groaning, you let your head sag back off the couch, not wanting to make eye contact with him when you responded. “We weren’t allowed to take… lovers. There were no romantic relationships allowed in the vault; they were seen as a liability. And I know that they’re not, but it’s been drilled into my brain that they’re wrong, that they’re… improper, and I’d rather not talk about it.”

When he didn’t respond, you thought he lost interest in the subject, and you slowly began to lift your head back up. “How the fuck did you guys repopulate?” And there your head went back down, face burning. 

“IVF. They took the eggs and sperm from the captives, as they were the best genetically, physically and mentally, and then put them in the body of one of the scientists.” You chose to not add the fact that there was an entirely real possibility that you had a kid or two.

“So no sex then?”

Something like a groan and a curse left your lips, and you squeezed your eyes shut, embarrassment and something else washing over you. How you wished for a raider or synth or anything to break down the door and kill you. “No,” you responded, and you missed the way his gaze locked on to you, intrigued by your answer.

“So you’ve never-”

“No!” You didn’t let him finish his question, not caring about what you just admitted to him.

“Not even after you left?”

“No.” You were getting really tired of your same responses. 

“Why not? It ain’t like you got your vault monitoring everythin’ ya do anymore.”

“Well…” you sighed, running a hand over your hot face. “It seems boring, from what I heard. I’m just supposed to, I dunno, sit there in pain while they use me for their own pleasure. It’s never appealed to me.” That last part was a lie, and you both knew it. You just wanted to hold on to some semblance of your pride that was lying in tatters around you.

He had the audacity to laugh, and you wished the couch would just swallow you whole. “I dunno who told ya that, but it ain’t like that. Not even fuckin’ close.”

Shakily, you exhaled, your heart feeling like it was about to beat out of your chest. You couldn’t believe you were having this discussion, with The Ghoul of all people. His next words had you going deathly still, staring wide-eyed at the mildewed ceiling. “Can I show ya?” 

In just one sentence, he managed to change the entire atmosphere of the conversation, of your relationship. You wouldn’t deny, the idea of being intimate with him was appealing, and definitely not the first time you’d thought of it. What made this time different, though, was that you didn’t push those thoughts away, disgust and shame not overwhelming you. And it was also different because this wasn’t just a scenario that you’d played out in your head, alone while you slept. No, this was actually happening. 

“What?” You managed to stammer out, sitting up slowly. Your mouth went dry at the way he stared at you, almost hungrily. You squirmed under his intense gaze, which seemed to please the man. 

“Can I show ya what it’s supposed to feel like?” He repeated again, and one of his gloves hands crept across the couch, resting an inch away from where your legs were. “If ya don’t want this, just say the word, and we can pretend like this ain’t ever happened. But I can promise ya won’t regret it.” For once, you were grateful for his self-assurance and cockiness, as it bolstered your own confidence in your decision. 

It felt like five hours had passed before you nodded, and you felt his hand brush up your clothed calf, gripping the muscle lightly. “Lemme hear ya say it, sweetheart.”

Even though it was far from the first time he’d called you sweetheart, the implications now made your face burn even more. He made it sound dirty, and you had to take a breath before speaking. “Show me.” Your voice barely came out as a whisper; any louder and you feared it would crack.

You let out a startled noise when he pulled you close to him using the hand on your calf, the action effortless; you’d forgotten how unnaturally strong he was. You were now laying down fully on the couch, hair splayed out around you. He moved between your legs, hands now braced on either side of your head as he leaned above you. His face hovered a few inches from yours, and you could feel his breath as he spoke. “You gotta let me know if ya don’t like somethin’, deal?”

“Deal.” 

You shivered when you felt him caress your cheek, a surprisingly gentle gesture from the rough man you knew. He smiled at your body’s response to him. “Finally,” he muttered out, but you didn’t get a chance to ask for further elaboration before his lips were on yours. 

Unlike his touch, they weren’t gentle, almost bruisingly strong against yours. You groaned, and you could feel him smirk. The hand that had been touching your face settled, grasping the side of your face in a warm, gloved palm. The other hand remained braced by your head, keeping him upright. You found yourself latching your own around his wrist, the other grabbing a handful of his shirt, trying to find some way to keep you grounded. 

Kissing felt even better than you’d imagined it would. You didn’t think it would be so enjoyable, feel so good, so right. It was like his lips were made to slot perfectly against yours. If you concentrated hard enough, you could taste cherry pie filling the both of you had eaten. You jolted when you felt teeth tug at your bottom lip, a droplet of pain in the sea of pleasure, and your grip tightened even more, threatening to tear the clothing. You didn’t think he would mind. 

Energy pulsed through your body, and you found yourself unconsciously beginning to move, your hips moving in small circles. A familiar tension began to form in your lower body, something you felt during your late night thoughts of The Ghoul. Even though it was only just forming, you’d never felt it this intensely before, and you were desperate for some kind of relief. 

An amused chuckle left him, pulling away slightly to do so. You almost whined at the loss of contact, and you attempted to pull him back down with the hand that currently had a fistfull of his clothing, but he didn’t budge. “Eager?” It was a rhetorical question, but you found yourself nodding anyway. 

“Please.” What you were asking for, you weren’t quite sure. Your words trailed off into a sigh when you felt his lips return, this time along your jaw by your ear. He left your cheek, running down the front of your body tantalizingly slow. 

“Where’s these manners comin’ from?” It sounded like his voice had turned raspier, and it elicited a shiver from your body, his lips still pressed close to your ear. “If this was all it took for ya to start actin’ all proper, then I would’ve done this weeks ago,” he teased, and his fingers ran underneath your breasts. 

Maybe it was his lips on your skin, or the way he pressed his body into yours, or the way he touched you, but you lost control of the words tumbling from your mouth. “I would’ve let you,” you admitted, and even though it was quiet you heard his breath hitch. 

“Yeah?” His voice had somehow gotten even raspier, and he groaned when you nodded. “Fuck, sweetheart,” his teeth nipped at your earlobe before moving further down your neck. You no longer felt his lips; instead you felt tongue and teeth leaving marks, growing more fervent as he descended. 

You let go of his shirt, your fingers popping uncomfortably, yet you paid it no mind. You rested your hand on the back of his head instead, almost immediately pulling it away, unsure if he wanted to be touched or not. But you felt him gently grab your wrist, bringing your hand back to where it had once been, making an approving noise when your fingers made contact. 

When he reached the strap of your shoulder armor, you felt him immediately get to work at losing the strap, and you sighed in relief when fresh air hit the newly exposed skin. He tossed it to the side somewhere, and it didn’t take long for your chestpiece to join it. The only thing left on the top half of your body was your bra and tank top, yet you felt completely naked, both because of the lack of armor and the way his eyes bore into your body.

His eyes trailed over the top of your chest, which was rising and falling rapidly, greedily taking in the swell of your breasts. You gasped when he took them in his hands, kneading and toying with the tender flesh. Even through the thick material of his gloves and your clothing, you could still feel his heat. But you wanted to feel him closer. You wanted to feel his bare hands on your body. 

Before you could even comprehend what you were doing, you were tearing off your tank top, throwing it somewhere in the room. You arched your back, your chest pressing further into his touch, and he groaned. Reaching behind, you had enough confidence to unlatch your bra and remove it, but not enough to look him in the eye. Your cheeks were burning, a flush creeping down your neck. 

“Fuckin’ perfect,” you heard him mutter, and his praise gave you enough confidence to finally return your gaze to his, expecting them to be locked on your chest. And they were, at least until he felt your eyes on him. His pupils were blown out, irises gone, and the almost predatory smirk on his face made you look away again, the tension in your body growing. 

“Take them off,” you whispered when his touch returned. His movement stilled, much to your dismay. “Your gloves,” you pleaded. “Take them off.”

When he didn’t respond, you forced your attention away from the ceiling, breath catching when you looked into his eyes. “And here I was praisin’ your manners,” he rebuked, and even through the lust in his eyes you could see a playful glint. “C’mon, you can do better than that.”

“Please take your gloves off,” you responded immediately, not caring if you sounded desperate. “I wanna feel your hands on me, please.”

“Much better,” he practically purred, and you watched him bring a hand up to his own mouth, tugging the glove off his hand with his teeth and letting it fall, landing on your body. It almost felt wrong to see his hands without gloves on them; it felt like he was more undressed than you.

He wasted no time in returning his now bare touch to your breasts, and it felt better than you thought it would. Fingers dexterously toyed with your now perked nipples, pulling little noises from you. You never thought it would be enjoyable to have someone playing with your breasts like this, but you were happily proven wrong.

It was when his mouth joined the fray that your noises turned louder, his lips wrapping around your other nipple. When his teeth grazed the sensitive bud, your hips bucked right against his, and you felt him groan against your chest. Wanting to hear that noise again, you repeated the action, and your ears were blessed once again. 

But your victory was short lived, and the hand that had been by your head the entire time finally moved, pressing your hips down into the couch. “Behave,” you heard him growl, not halting his attention towards your chest. But you did see his eyes flick up, making it look like he was glaring at you, and you found your mouth going dry. You nodded, not finding it in yourself to go against him just yet, to see how far you could push him. You hoped there would be a next time.

He continued to lavish your chest for a few more moments, swapping his hand and mouth, continuously building up that tension in your core. You fought against the desire to move your hips, his “threat” still ringing in your ears. Your hand was still resting on the back of his head, trying and failing to keep your nails from digging into his scalp. A particularly hard suck had them biting in deep, but any apology you had died on your lips at the sinful moan he let out, followed by a string of expletives. You took a mental note to do that again later.

With a pop, he removed his mouth from your chest, and he let you pull him up into a searing kiss. His hand sneaked down between your bodies, which you only realized when you felt his fingers run beneath the waistband of your jeans and underwear.

He pulled away, sitting back on his heels, and you weren’t quite sure who was panting heavier. You immediately missed the feel of his body over yours, the comforting weight of him, and you couldn’t help the small pout that formed on your lips as you tried and failed to pull him back down again. “Please,” you whispered, hoping that your words would convince him. And you could tell they almost worked, his jaw clenching as he grit his teeth. 

But he didn’t relent. Instead, you watched as he began to slowly unclip your gunbult, your armor, your kneepads. Every bit of protection against the Wasteland stripped from you, joining the pile on the floor, leaving you only in your clothes. It was freeing, yet a bit nerve wracking, your chest continuing to rise and fall rapidly. 

You tried to lean down to help with your boots, but he swatted your hands away, silencing any rebuttal with a look. It took a few moments, but he eventually was able to remove your boots and socks, but you barely heard the sound of them hitting the floor over the loud heartbeat in your ears. He practically ripped off your pants, his patience becoming thin because of the boots, but you were just grateful he didn’t actually ripped them. Good clothing was hard to come by.

His gaze was locked onto your lower body as he eased off your underwear, the final article of clothing on your body joining the rest. You were almost glad to be rid of them; they were cold and uncomfortable, and damp, for some reason. But it didn’t seem to put off The Ghoul. In fact, it seemed to please him immensely, an almost proud grin on his lips.  

You quickly grew embarrassed under his ravenous gaze, his eyes trailing over every inch of your body. You tried to close your legs, or at least tuck them to your chest to try and cover you, but he was having none of it. Two hands, one gloved and one not, wrapped around your ankles, pulling them back down and out. “None of that. Lemme see ya.”

Swallowing, you relaxed, at least as well as you could. It became easier when you saw how much he was loving your body. His eyes jumped around, like he was trying to memorize every detail of you. “Like I said. Fuckin’. Perfect.” You weren’t expecting the sheer honesty in his voice. 

The hands on your ankles began to slowly trail up, making goosebumps appear on your skin. It was like your skin was a million times more sensitive when someone else was touching you. You got lost in his touch, your eyes fluttering close, simply enjoying the feel of another person. 

They shot open when his touch suddenly left, and you gaped at him, confused. You watched him adjust so that he was now sitting normally on the couch, resting against the back of it. 

You understood, though, when he patted his legs, wanting you on his lap. With shaky movements, you complied, but were once again confused when he stopped you, hand resting on your shoulder. Wordlessly, he turned you so that your back was to him, and you let out a startled noise when he roughly pulled you onto his lap, his still clothed chest pressing into your bare shoulders. 

Moving the hair from your neck, you felt his lips return their ministration on your neck, and your head rolled back, giving him more access. Both hands were on your body, ungloved one returning to your breasts, the other skating down the side of your body. You gasped when it began to inch towards your center, and you felt him chuckle. “So sensitive,” he commented almost absentmindedly.

You felt him grip your thigh, spreading your legs even farther so that they went around his own, now using his knees to keep your legs open. It left you completely exposed and at his mercy, but you felt comfortable, safe even. Relaxing fully against his chest, your head now rests on his shoulder, and if you strained enough you were able to look at him. It was clear by the expression on his face that he was enjoying this just as much as you were, if not more.

He reached his hands around your body, and began to pull the glove off his other hand. You stopped him with a gentle grasp of his wrist, tugging his hand to your mouth. Just like he did, you took the material between your teeth, and he was able to free his hand with a tug. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Think ya can do one for thing for me?”

“Anything,” you responded, and you felt two of his fingers, the middle and ring, trace your bottom lip. 

“Anythin’?” You nodded, not caring what that might imply. “Well, I’ll have to keep that in mind. But first,” those fingers tugged at your lip, “get those nice and wet for me.”

Even though you weren’t quite sure what you were doing, you parted your lips anyway, taking the digits into your wet mouth. Slowly, you began to bob your head up and down, running your tongue along the textured skin, barely tasting the saltiness of it. Whatever you were doing seemed to please him, because you felt his chest rumble with a groan. 

Before you could build a rhythm, he pulled them out with a pop, and they glistened in the low light. He didn’t give you much time to observe them, though, because before you could process he was running them through your folds. The sudden touch in your most sensitive area made you try and shut your legs, but his knees made it impossible.

His chest rumbled with a light laugh, and you were confused as to what could possibly be amusing him. “Guess that wasn’t necessary; you’re already so damn wet for me.” You detected another hint of pride, this time in his voice. 

Another swipe had you moaning, but then you felt his fingers locate something between your legs that made you cry out, your legs jerking involuntarily. “There we go,” he rumbled, and he focused his attention on that area, fingers pressing firm and slow circles into it. You weren’t quite sure what he was doing, but it felt incredible, the tension that had slowly begun to rescind returning. 

You tried to tell him, but it came out as a garbled moan instead. “Feel good?” It was another rhetorical question, and you yet again nodded, and you watched his lips quirk up. 

“Ghoul…” you moaned out, one of your hands reaching behind to hold the back of his head, needing something to hold onto as he continued to pleasure you. 

For the first time since you’d met him, something like self-consciousness flicked across his face, gone as soon as it came. “That ain’t my name, sweetheart. C’mon, lemme hear ya say it,” he almost sounded desperate as he talked. 

It took a moment for your lust-addled brain to remember what he had told you earlier in the night. “Cooper…” you sighed out, and he bit back his own moan, and you felt his hips jump the tiniest bit. 

“And I thought I liked hearing ya say my name, but fuck, I like hearin’ ya moan it a hundred times more.” You realized that when you had seen something shift in his eyes when you first said his name was disdain, it was actually the opposite. That realization had you smiling, and you managed to pull him down into a messy kiss, the angle too weird to allow a proper meeting of your lips. 

But it wouldn’t have lasted long anyways, another few moments of his fingers making you cry out again, that tension beginning to become unbearable, like it was just on the precipice of snapping. “Cooper.” It came out as a moan, but with a hint of confusion and worry behind it, unsure of what was happening with your body.

“You close?” 

“Close?” You had enough focus left to be confused, and even though his fingers didn’t yield, you felt the rest of him go still. 

“You’ve never… oh, fuck,” his voice turned husky, almost like a growl, “am I gonna make you come for the first time?” He sounded elated. It just created more questions, but another swirl of his fingers made all thoughts go out the window.

You fidgeted and squirmed, trying to escape the onslaught of things you were feeling. “Relax. I promise ya, this’ll feel good.” And because you trusted him, foolishly or not, you did relax, no longer fighting against him. It felt like you were a dam that was about to burst, and you barely registered that your nails were digging back into his scalp until you heard one of those delicious moans escape his lips.

That sound triggered something in you, and all at once that tension snapped, exploding like something that was pulled too tight. Pleasure ignited your body, making it feel as light as a feather. Every nerve in your body was humming, and you swore you blacked out for a moment. 

His voice, gruff yet a bit concerned, brought you back to your body. “Breathe,” you heard him say, and you realized the dizziness you were feeling wasn’t just because of the mind-shattering pleasure you’d just felt, but you indeed had stopped breathing. Inhaling shakily, you felt some of that dizziness leaving now that oxygen had returned to your lungs. 

An uncomfortable jolt had you glancing down between your legs, where he continued to pull every last bit of pleasure from your body. “S’too much,” you managed to slur out, your voice quite hoarse. He halted, thankfully, resting his hand on your thigh, still close enough to your center that you could feel the heat from his hands. 

“You alright, sweetheart?” He sounded mildly amused, and if your muscles weren’t currently jelly you would’ve hit him. 

“I… what did…” you said between gasping breaths, trying to get your heart rate back down. 

“You just came. Rather loudly, at that,” he teased, and your incredibly hoarse voice made sense now. You were suddenly very glad that you were in the middle of nowhere. 

Turning so that you were able to face him better, you felt the material of his pants rub against your bare legs, which wouldn’t have been too weird if it weren’t for the fact they were wet, borderline soaked. The hand that had just been resting on your thigh was brought into view, just as soaked as his pants, and you watched as he examined his hand, almost transfixed. “And messily,” he added, and you felt your cheeks burn even more than they already were. 

You opened your mouth, ready to apologize, but nothing but an airy noise left you as you watched his tongue run from up from his wrist to his fingers. A pleased hum left him, his eyes never once leaving your own as he continued to clean his hand, like it was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted, even better than the desert you had shared. There was a stir in your gut at the action, what you now assumed to be arousal coming to life as you continued to watch him. 

When he caught you staring, his lips twisted into one of those smirks that made your stomach flip. Turning fully in his lap so you were now straddling him, you tugged his wrist far enough away so that you could kiss him. You groaned when his tongue swept between your parted lips, his slightly damp hand holding the side of your face gently. 

With shaky fingers, you began to try and unbutton his shirt. You didn’t get far before he was suddenly standing, and even though he had an arm tucked beneath your thighs, you still clung on to him, legs and arms wrapping around him tightly. Not once did he remove his lips, even when he bumped into a few things on the way to the bed. It was like all that mattered was you and the way you felt. 

The bed, which was barely big enough for one person, let alone two, squeaked obnoxiously when he lowered you onto it, but neither of you paid attention to it. And it wasn’t like you had to worry about anyone else hearing. Like on the couch, he hovered over your body, arms braced on either side of you. His lips were back on your neck, giving you a few moments to take heaving breaths of air. 

For once during the entire night, you knew what was about to happen next, but even though you could feel anxiety threaten to grip your mind, you managed to shove it off. It was easier when you focused your attention on the man in your arms. His continued attention was nice, but you wanted, needed more. “Cooper, please…” you trailed off, hoping he got what you were asking for.

And you know he did, because you felt his lips curl into a smile against the skin of your neck, and he lifted his head up. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him so care-free, and the sight had your heart swelling, a small gasp leaving you as well. He looked good like this, and a part of you craved to see it for days to come. 

“What was that, sweetheart? I didn’t quite hear what ya said.” For a moment, you retracted your previous stance, embarrassment making your ears burn. You either wanted to kiss or slap that shit-eating smirk off his face when he noticed how bashful you’d grown. “I’ll give ya whatever you want. All ya gotta do is ask.”

Your pride and embarrassment were at war with your desire, but a winner was quickly decided. “Please, I need you, Cooper.”

Apparently that wasn’t good enough, because he didn’t move. “You need me to…?” You groaned in frustration, and you tried to get him to just forget it with a roll of your hips, trying to make him break. It seemed to almost work, but you felt him press down firmly on your hips, pinning you to the bed. “That ain’t gonna help ya. Use your words.”

You sighed, finally relenting. “Fuck me, please,” you whispered out, and it finally seemed to do the trick.

“Atta girl,” he praised. “Go ‘head and roll over for me.”

As much as you wanted to be able to see him clearly, excitement had you turning over anyway, now on your hands and knees. The position was revealing and it almost felt degrading, but yet again you felt at ease, anticipation making your heart beat fast. Turning your head, you were able to see him a bit, and a moan slipped from your lips when you heard the sound of his belt being undone, the sound of a zipper following suit. This was really happening. 

One of his hands gripped your hips, and you felt his still clothed legs pressed up against the back of your own. His cock, warm and solid, pressed into your entrance, a low groan pulled from your lips when he breached it. It was only the tiniest bit painful, not as bad as you initially believed it would be, like a muscle being stretched, which was earlier overshadowed by the pleasure it brought. He let out a groan of his own, the fingers on your hips digging in harshly. 

Inch by inch, you felt him press himself fully into you, both of you letting out similar sighs when he was fully sheathed. Cold metal bit into your skin when his hips were flush with yours, the buckle of his belt no doubt going to leave imprints on your skin. He stilled once he was fully in you, giving you a chance to get adjusted to him, which you were grateful for. You could tell that it was taking every ounce of restraint in his body to just sit there, though, and it only took a few moments until you felt like you were ready for him to move. 

All it took was you wiggling your hips for him to get the message, something like a sigh of relief leaving his lips. Slowly, he pulled out of you, fingers never once letting go of their grip. The sensation made you moan, and you could feel him everywhere, hitting all the right spots as he pulled out.

You grasped at the barely-together bedsheets, probably creating new holes in the fabric. It was less uncomfortable when he pushed back a second time, and you felt your head go limp between your arms, his name falling from your lips. He started creating a rhythm, hips beginning to pick up the pace. His hips snapped into yours, slowly at first, but gradually picking up speed.

You could do nothing but take it, pleasure making you lose control of your body. Your cries were becoming increasingly louder, that familiar tension returning, and you tried to bury your face in the mattress. 

That was until you felt him grab a fistfull of your hair, yanking your head back up. It hurt, but it felt wonderful, and you felt yourself tense, a wanton moan louder than anything previous escaping you. “Fuck, ya like it rough?” His pace quickened, his cock spearing you relentlessly. It filled something in you that you didn’t quite know you needed, a craving satiated that you didn’t know you had. But now that you had it, you needed more of it. 

You nodded, at least as best you could, the grip in your hair keeping your head still. It took you too long to realize that he was using the leverage from his grip in your hair to pound into you. “D’ya know how fuckin’ incredible ya feel?” He panted. “This cunt was made for me. For me to ruin.” 

“Cooper,” you cried out, and he groaned in appreciation. 

“Fuck, that’s right. Who’s fuckin’ ya this good? Who’s ruinin’ ya for any other?”

You certainly weren’t expecting him to be this vocal, but you were far from complaining. His voice, which normally electrified you, was driving you insane, the tension building up tenfold. You tried to say his name again, but it came out incoherent. “Oh, sweetheart,” he cooed before laughing lightly. 

You were so close to your release again, and you could feel moisture run down your thighs, but you had little mind to be embarrassed now. “Cooper,” you were able to sigh out. “I’m… I’m close.”

His grip turned vice like, and you’re sure your neck would be hurting later because of the angle, but you didn’t care. “Let go. C’mon, lemme feel ya cum on my cock.” His words left no room for debate, so who were you to go against his orders? After a few more thrusts, you felt that tension snap again, pleasure once again washing over your body, making your arms turn to jelly. Panting, you collapsed on your arms, face squished against the mattress, the sound of slick skin on skin the only thing you could make out.

You didn’t stay down for long. Both hands wrapped around your front, pulling you flush against his body. He continued to thrust into you, and you felt another release begin to build, but it was too much. You made a sound of protest, something like you couldn’t come again, but he shushed you with kisses on your cheeks, which were damp with tears and sweat. “Just one more, sweetheart. You can do it.”

Nodding shakily, you felt his continue to fuck you, one arm wrapping around your stomach, the other holding right above your breasts. A startled noise left you when you felt his hand wrap around your throat, survival instinct kicking in immediately. With wide eyes, you twisted out of his grasp on your throat, panic evident on your face. 

He had let go as soon as he heard any sound of protest, but he still lingered close by. “You trust me?” He asked, somehow still able to form a coherent sentence. 

Your answer came immediately; you trusted him with your life. Why else would you travel the Wasteland with him? You nodded, a soft yes leaving you as you did. He pressed another grateful kiss to your cheek, a wordless thank you, and you felt his hand return to where it was. You still tensed when you felt his grip return, unable to turn off the instinct to be free of someone choking you, but you provided no further protest. 

Fingers squeezed against the sides of your neck, and like with your hair he used the leverage to snap his hips up into you. Even though it was harder, you were still able to breathe, your gasps and noises labored. Yet you still found yourself growing dizzy, the restricted blood flow making you so, which just heightened the pleasure you felt. 

Your third and final release of the night barreled into you, completely catching you both off guard. Your mind was so fuzzy; you couldn’t even get his name out. You were quickly snapped out of that haze when you heard him moan your name. Not sweetheart, not Vaultie, not any other nickname. Your name. 

He eased you to the bed, hand leaving your neck, and you let out a small whine when you felt him pull out of you. You felt empty, lacking, and even though you knew it would upset your overstimulated body you wanted him back in you. 

You had just rolled onto your back when you felt something hot splatter against your skin. You watched slack-jawed as he stroked himself to completion, his release painting your skin. The sight caused the flames of arousal to reignite, but you tried your best to snuff them out; you needed a moment. 

He sagged forward when he was done, arms once again bracing him from completely falling on top of you. Silence now filled the air, which was significantly warmer than it was a bit ago. It was you who moved first, grasping the side of his scarred face and pulling him in for a gentle kiss. It was short, but probably the most passionate of the night. 

When it broke, he sat up, getting up and off the bed and towards his belongings. You let out a noise of protest, and he just shot you a teasing look. “I’ll be back in a sec. We gotta get ya cleaned up,” he gestured to the remnants of him on your skin, and you watched as he fished out a canteen, before searching the area for something else. 

You decided to glance over your body as you waited for him to return. Your skin glistened with sweat, and you could see various marks littering your body; you didn’t want to know what your neck looked like, where he focused a lot of his attention.

The feeling of the bed shifting snapped you out of your examination, and you regarded the man who sat beside you with a soft look, and you were surprised when he returned it. It quickly turned into a scowl when you felt a damp cloth brush against your stomach and breasts, the cool water making you hiss. 

When he was done cleaning your skin, he handed you the canteen, and you took a few sips. You’d long since gotten used to the acrid taste of the Wasteland’s water, so it didn’t bother you, and you watched him finally kick off his boot. He was still fully dressed besides that, shirt sticking to his body.He set it beside the bed once you finished, before eying the bed that you were currently laying on.

“What?” You cringed at how raspy your voice sounded.

“Just dunno how I’m gonna fit.” In the back of your mind, you worried that he was going to push you away after all was said and done, so you were quite relieved to find the opposite happening. 

With a grin, you scooted back until your head rested against the thin pillow, before opening your arms to him. Shock crossed his features for a split second, before a grin of his own grew on his lips. He was still hesitant when he entered your embrace, but he relaxed almost immediately, especially when your hands ran soothingly up and down his back. When you pressed a kiss to the top of his head, he practically shuddered, his face nuzzling into your skin. You wondered how long it had been since someone showed him affection like this. 

You held him for a good while, your body calming down, and you thought over the events that had just transpired. Weirdly enough, you thought less about the things he had done and more of the words he said, especially right at the beginning. “Cooper?” You called out hesitantly, almost immediately regretting it. “Do… Can I call you that?”

He had raised his head when he heard his name being called, and you watched him debate it for a second. “Only in private. I’ve gotta reputation to uphold.” His response was gruff, but there was something warm in his eyes. 

It made you giddy, that he trusted you enough to call him by his true name, and you hoped you weren’t smiling like a fool. “Alright, Cooper. What did you mean when you said ‘finally’?”

He chuckled lightly, propping up a big so he could respond properly. “What, ya thought this was a spur of the moment decision?” He shook his head. “Sweetheart, I’ve wanted this for a while.”

You gaped at him, stunned. “You… you have?”

“How could I not? I mean, look at’cha,” his eyes trailed appreciatively over your still naked body. “But you’ve got a fire ‘bout ya. You ain’t afraid of this world, even though you damn well should be. You ain’t afraid of me, even though I’ve given ya plenty of reason to be. You’re a fighter, and I… I admire that ‘bout you. I-” He caught himself, like he said something he wasn't supposed to. “I’m too sober to be discussin’ my thoughts with ya. All ya gotta know is yes, I have.”

You were once again left stunned, so you let your action speak for you, pressing another kiss to his head, trying to ignore the way your heart soared. You felt him shift upwards, and he kissed your proper. It was another short yet passionate kiss, and when he broke away he rested his head against yours. 

“You wanna know somethin’, sweetheart?” His voice had dropped lower, and that familiar dark look was back in his eyes. So much for snuffing out the arousal you felt. He smirked when you nodded vehemently. “You wanna know the real reason why I always take first watch when we go to bed?” You felt his grasp one of your hands, loosely enough that you could pull it away if you wanted to, and he brought it between your bodies. You gasped when you felt the hard tent in his pants, having tucked himself away when he got up, but you knew it wasn’t going to stay like that for long. 

“It’s ‘cause you do this to me. You should hear me out there, moanin’ your name like I do, imaginin’ your hand wrapped ‘round my cock instead of mine.”

Your tiredness was completely forgotten, the pleasant ache in your muscles nothing more than a gentle distraction. “Can you show me?”

“Fuckin’ gladly, sweeheart.”

[sunnibits]

this is why he needs to die btw

just realized that because I’ve left my jackass DM’s campaign (therefore giving me full control over Dimitri’s story and lore) I could totally draw Dimitri killing my least favorite NPC with hammers and NOBODY can fucking tell me that it isn’t canon

[sparrowlucero]

i enjoy ur bird abode thoughts! I was a genuine enjoyer of the show when it was airing, I’m no die hard fan though and love to see ppls personal takes on the overall story/plot. Im curious if you also would agree or have any thoughts on the impacts The Mouse’s cancellation had on the shows ability to be more than it was? srry im not super eloquent with my words, but basically ur response to that ask got me wondering if part of the reason the show like genuinely wasnt all that ground breaking or unique in the end plot wise (other than the villain faces consequences in the end ig) as far as YA/Teen animation goes, was because of The Mouse’s inability to let the writers flesh out the show before gutting it? i have a negative bias toward The Mouse franchise and obviously dont know anything about how writing a show under the eyes of a franchise that big would work, its just smth that rattles around in my head and wanna know what u think!

Well to an extent, but I think it's much more the effect the studio had on how the owl house started out as rather than it not getting a full season at the end - It didn't escape my noticed that the show was initially announced as being a "horror comedy" when it doesn't really seem like either, especially by the second season, and yeah, the original pitch bible is obviously aiming for that much more than the show proper is as it goes along (and is honestly seems quite a bit more funny, weird, and dark, with an overarching plotline about a giant bug being used to religiously suppress people, eda able to cure her curse by killing luz, and one of the major characters being a teen boy awoken from a sleeping curse who ends up being a weird little bigot because he's from the 13th century, among other things)

(side note, i just noticed they actually specifically describe the thing i assumed the show was gonna be about here. huh.) but ultimately the bulk of the show that was actually made seems very influenced by a writing team that was genuinely interested in making a tropey YA fantasy story rather than just being mandated to. I mean even in what aired you can see the show sort of settle in ways that feel less like studio interference and more like, you know, art students creating their ideal fantasy show, like how King is clearly Eda's roommate who's funny because he looks like and sounds like a little dog despite being an adult man at the beginning but by the end they've made him her adopted sad backstory son who's explicitly a child. While I think a third season would have made the show as it existed better, because they clearly didn't get to finish the plot they wanted to (frankly to the point where some major aspects of the show are a bit confusing, I'm still not sure what a grimwalker is), I don't really fault the show for that but also don't think that hypothetical season (which pretty clearly would have been mostly about the magic school teens going to normal school) would suddenly flip around into something that I personally found interesting and subversive. Nor should it, really; again, it being Queernorm Harry Potter thing is clearly the intended appeal of the show, it's not really a flaw but just not a genre I'm personally interested in when compared to what I initially expected the show to be.

HOWEVER I will say they robbed little weird girls of their representation and that can't be forgiven

[dokidokitsuna]

GameSwap!AU

Just a random idea I had: what if Magolor and Hyness traded games with each other? Like, their character/personality remains the same, only now they each have the other’s roles and goals. I thought it would be fun~

-So making Magolor the main antagonist of Star Allies would be a trip; I feel it would change the whole ambiance of the game…probably in a detrimental way, from a gamedev point of view. You don’t really wanna put the super cute and charming new character with the most memorable heel-turn in the series…at the center of the “nostalgia” game. ^^; With the return of the Helpers and a dozen familiar faces cameoing as Dream Friends, Magolor’s theatrics would be too much of a distraction.

But whatever, let’s say we put him in anyway: now Magolor is the leader of Jambastion, trying to resurrect a god of emptiness and despair. I predict he snaps immediately. XD

I just think handing that kind of leadership role to an obviously power-hungry character like Mago would grow worms in his brain incredibly quickly. ^^; That isn’t to say that he’d do the cuckoo-4-coco-puffs schtick that Hyness does– I think instead he would be a sort of annoying “chuunibyou” character; constantly popping up to ramble about being Void Termina’s chosen one, destined to succeed because he’s the specialest and bestest ever, so you might as well give up now.

And he’d give off this completely unserious vibe like, “...Are you just making this up? Is this god you’re trying to resurrect actually real; or are you just a very lonely, understimulated, disturbed little egg…?”

And then by the end of the game we realize that he *wasn’t* making it up, and as he starts abusing the Mage Sisters (who probably hate working for him to begin with...) and rapidly becomes a real threat, suddenly we’re forced to take him seriously. ^^; We’ll rescue him from Void Termina’s innards anyway, though, because we’re nice, and similarly to his true character arc; he’ll probably realize that he got in over his head and beg to be saved.

-Hyness in Return to Dreamland would be interesting…primarily because he doesn’t seem like the ‘manipulator’ type to me. I think he’d be more of an ‘absentminded professor’ type: enthusiastic and silly but in an awkward, understated way. He’d just come right out and tell us he wants help to find the Master Crown, but he’d present it as a mysterious object of limitless possibilities that we should ALSO be interested in…y’know, just for curiosity’s sake. Conveniently leaving out the fact that he’s taking it for himself, and he’s more than just curious– he already knows exactly what he wants to do with it. ^^;

And similarly to *his* true character arc…I think Hyness would go all in. ‘_’ No hesitation, no regrets; he’d dive right into Mistilteinn’s clutches and become its twisted avatar, forcing us to literally carve him out of there if we want to stop him. This would probably call for a much tougher boss fight, with a more serious ambiance– none of Magolor Soul’s cutesy juggling; let’s aim for something more like Zero’s eyeball exploding out of his face, but in 3D~. Or all the horrific stuff Fecto Elfilis had going on, since we have the benefit of hindsight. XD

As for the end…this may hurt some folks, but I think it would make sense for Hyness to die, like the devs originally planned for Magolor before they decided to have mercy on him. The thing is, without the Mage-Sisters to highlight Hyness’ changes in behavior, there’s not as much to gain from redeeming him…maybe that’ll be part of his character arc too; seeking to become the instrument of the Master Crown because he has nothing and no one else. This version of Hyness still has his empty heart, devoid of care, but without Void Termina to pledge himself to, the tree-demon is the best he can do. ^^; And with a little fleshing-out of his backstory before he goes (perhaps a chance to learn more about the magic vs. science users…?) he could make a good tragic antagonist, the first of his kind in the series.

-...Seeing as RtDL was supposed to be like a fresh start for the Kirby series, though, all this lore and sadness would be a little heavy for that concept…from a gamedev point of view, I would reject the idea. But if we did go with it, I shudder to think how it would influence the rest of the games to follow…perhaps the franchise would actually have taken the grimdark turn that people like to think it has. ^^ Which would be cool to see, admittedly.

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Gooigi (again)

Debut: Luigi's Mansion (3DS)

When I was playing Luigi's Mansion 3 for the first time, I was thinking, "I sure love Gooigi. I wish I could write a Weird Mario Enemies post on him, but we already have one..." but I now realize! That post was written before the release of 3! We had no idea! No idea.

Who is the Mario character with the most fleshed-out backstory? Is it Mario, with his monolithic catalogue of media appearances? No, the insight we get into his past is simplistic at most. Is it Rosalina, with her beloved storybook? She comes close, I will admit, but there is someone who comes closer! Can you guess who it is? Can you guess the character I am hyping up in the post with a big image of Gooigi at its forefront? Yes, you can! It's Gooigi.

Indeed, Gooigi has seven entire pages of lore from the official website, written from the perspective of E. Gadd himself, explaining his origins, how he does what he does, WHY he does what he does, everything! You can read it here, and I'm not going to waste time repeating what was already said. I will just paraphrase: Goo is made from coffee mixed with ghost energy. Gooigi is the result of Luigi's digital data being zapped into it for a default form. Gooigi was sent back in time to Luigi's Mansion 1 for training and research purposes, and is now stored in a canister in the Poltergust G-00.

Got it? Good. Here is Baby Gooigi. How precious! Back before he had any Luigi in him at all. This is Goo in a human-shaped mold, and you may notice the mold itself has no face. Baby Gooigi learned how to express agony all on his own! It's no wonder they took a photo of this milestone!

Now with Super Mario Bros. Wonder, we have TWO gelatinous Luigis to choose from. And why not both? Gooigi is a separate entity, so Gooigi and Wubba Luigi can coexist! But not always... when playing Luigi's Mansion 3 single player, Luigi and Gooigi must be controlled separately. Luigi is able to will his consciousness into the doppelgangreener to control its movements, and it's here that it gets extra weird! Weird to the point that this game basically has multiple possible continuities?

Gooigi is NOT scared of ghosts, at all! He is an anomaly to them! This is very much "distinct character" behavior. But how is this the case if Luigi wills his soul into Gooigi? Well, both concepts are kind of true at the same time! As we can see here, cutscenes will actually change depending on if the game is in single-player or co-op play, portraying different events! Really really weird! It's like if Schroedinger's Cat was a pair of funny green men, one with bones and organs, and one translucent. So what is the truth...? (Spoilers for Luigi's Mansion 3 ahead...)

In the ending, even in single-player mode, Gooigi is portrayed as his own sentient character! Even though this contradicts the "consciousness transfer" lore, I think this is the "true" intention for him. It's much more fun and less awkward if he can be active at the same time as Luigi! I also don’t think they care that much about minor gameplay features being lore-compliant, since Polterpup got pupils in the end of the second game, and those were removed in 3 without explanation.

Unfortunately, as the hotel crumbles after King Boo's defeat, Gooigi falls from the top floor and dies.

He even says "bye-bye" before the fall. I can't believe this. How could Nintendo allow something so upsetting? They thought it was okay to let Gooigi say "bye-bye" rather than "goo-dbye"? That has "goo" in it! It would have been perfect. (I am not actually upset by this at all and "bye-bye" is more in character)

After splattering on the pavement he reforms, because duh. He's goo. You can test this for yourself! Scoop a glob of mayonnaise out of the jar with your hand. Next, travel to the top of a skyscraper. Finally, drop the mayonnaise off of the side! When it hits the ground, it will not have died. Science Fact!

As silly it may be, I was a bit worried Gooigi might die for real, even though that wouldn't make any sense to happen. I was just thinking of modern Paper Mario, introducing new buddies only to take them away by the end. But I should have known that Luigi's Mansion is not at all like that! This is the series where they gave Luigi a dog, and that was that. We don't see Polterpup as often as we should, but it cannot be argued! Luigi has a dog. What would stop them from keeping Gooigi around? Nothing, that's what! He stays with E. Gadd, and is not going anywhere!

Just like Polterpup, I would love to see Gooigi more, though. I would love for him to be Luigi's answer to Metal Mario! Gooigi driving a kart! I don't care that he dies in water, and I don't think Nintendo would care too much either. I would like to leave you off with The Big Question. This is a new, distinct character, who is "genetically" similar to Luigi. As such.

[autisticaradiamegido]

Hey since your requests are open, could you maybe draw Hal? Doing anything, I don't really care what (only if you want)

day 96

YES i actually got 2 thinking about hal today thanks to this post (and my tags even passed peer review yippee thank u) ANYWAY. in addition to all of that. I HAVE ALWAYS THOUGHT he and aradia would be friends.

ok i wrote all this out and it got long and kinda rambly bc im tired so im putting it under a cut lmao HALRADIA FRIENDSHIP RANT IN THE READMORE

i think there would be.... maybe a little tension given that aradia eventually ended up in Her Own Flesh And Blood Body and hal would presumably not have that option?

but overall i think after the way her friends treated her as a robot, and the experience of going from experiencing life as a living breathing organic person to a bodiless entity to HAVING a body but that body not being the same as the one you remember.... idk! it's like EXTREMELY EXTREMELY SPECIFIC AND MORE THAN A LITTLE TRAUMATIC and they could share it with each other!! how fucking lovely is that.

not to mention they both kind of have a history with equius?? (assuming this is post arquiusprite in some way. i certainly have an extremely self-indulgent "everyone lives" au for this scenario where they're able to safely separate into their pre-sprite components and then hal and aradia become buds.)

REGARDLESS i think it would be interesting for hal (who has ostensibly nothing but positive shit to say about his connection to equius) and aradia (who has some truly fucked things to say about her experiences with equius) to Talk Through All That.

not 2 mention the parallels that can be drawn between dirk/hal's perception of their relationship with jake being this kind of... Manipulative Pining Weirdness, and aradia being on the other side of somebody else's Manipulative Pining Weirdness and sharing that perspective without even knowing about all of that dirkjake backstory OUGH im tellin u it is all a very complex and wonderful scenario to consider and like, im not even much of an alpha kid aficionado tbh. hal experts chime in on the comments i know youre out there and i wanna hear your takes.

[ittsybittsybunny]

ATLA Live Action Series Review:

The Good

Aesthetically this show felt right. Sure sometimes the outfits didn't quite feel lived in, but I always felt like I was watching a fantasy world with decent effects and interesting design. Also, I really enjoyed the sets!

Bending: Yes some of the fights feel very quick, but the bending looks cool. It is certainly better than 10 benders lifting one big rock. I can honestly say the opening bending fight scene gave me so much hope for this show.

Kyoshi Warriors: I loved seeing them in live action, and I thought Suki's performance was great!

Omashu: I think the mashup of the mechanist made sense since that is an important character overall and I would hate to see him cut. However, both Jet & the secret tunnels felt sloppily thrown in.

Northern Water Tribe: I really loved the way it looked, and appreciated the two episodes we spent here. I think Yue gained more agency in this interpretation, and why shouldn't the moon spirit be a waterbender. Also, episode seven felt the most in tune with the original show's spirit.

Zuko: I think he was one of the most fleshed-out and best parts of the show! Dallas Liu really captured Zuko's spirit, and the scene between him and Aang in episode 6 was wonderful!

Soundtrack: Hearing the original soundtrack bits is always great, and when I first heard the ending music I was so excited.

Is the show perfect, no - but I wouldn't mind a season 2.

The Bad

Pacing: Turning 20 episodes into 8 was bound to lead to some cuts...but oftentimes times things felt too quick or disjointed. I think there were editing problems contributing to this for sure, but sometimes things skipped around too much without a clear purpose as to why. Also, why bring in plots from later seasons when you barely have enough time already?

Writing: This show definitely suffered from exposition dumping, though it did get better as time went on. I think the biggest example of this is actually opening in the past rather than the present. We do not get to learn along with Aang that the world has changed, instead, we get to learn that 100 years have passed....which doesn't hold the same tension or worldbuilding.

Clunky Dialogue: Along with exposition, clunky dialogue is another example of bad writing. I think sometimes I felt like the acting was kind of meh in the beginning, but then over time I began to realize it had far more to do with the lines characters were trying to deliver. The actors themselves are not bad, just cursed with awkward writing and lines that feel out of touch with the setting they're in.

Main Trio: I don't entirely know that I believe Katara, Sokka, and Aang are friends as opposed to 3 people stuck together to save the world. Aang feels a little too somber for a young kid running away from his responsibilities, Sokka is protective, but not exactly the heart of the team, and Katara is sort of just there until the last two episodes. Where is her struggle, her desire to learn so strong she steals from pirates? Also, while Gordon Cormier did a great job, Aang does zero waterbending on his own, is overly serious, and tells Katara not to fight. Where is his desperation to protect his friends? It feels like they all lost emotional depth.

Tension: Bringing Ozai, Azula, and Zhao out in the beginning immediately causes us to lose the realization there is an even bigger bad. Part of why Ozai is so terrifying is he is a primarily silent villain until the third season when we finally see the face of the "big bad evil guy" behind it all. Yes, they add to Zuko's backstory, but again, they are revealing the villains too early. Azula is the antagonist of season 2 and one of my favorite characters, so I hope they do more with her in the future. Finally, Zhao is supposed to be an example of the uncontrollable nature of fire unrestrained, instead, he comes off as vaguely threatening with the supposed true power being Azula.

Characterization: While all characters are bound to lose something in a shorter show, it still felt like certain characters were more mutilated than others. I am sure there are 100 different opinions on who, but I think the biggest victim was Katara.

Katara: Katara manages to go from a complete novice to a bending master in what feels like a matter of days. The journey feels short, and that makes the results feel largely unearned. Katara is one of the strongest personalities in the show, determined, kind, and fiery. In many ways, she is the unpredictability of water - equally dangerous as it is necessary to live. She is the child of a war who lost her mother, forced to grow up too soon, and even raised her older brother. Yes, Katara often gets stereotyped as the mom friend, but overall she feels underutilized in this show. We really don't see enough of her journey until the very end.

Iroh: Iroh was always comedic but most importantly wise. Even when Zuko is trying to give himself advice, he mimics Iroh. Instead, he seems to be used more as comedic relief without the underlying experience. He just doesn't feel right. Also, he kills Zhao instead of Zhao getting himself killed - which is less about Iroh and more about the writing than anything.

Ozai is weirdly a little too nice. Yes, he burned Zuko and pits his kids against each other, but he feels toned down in a show claiming to be more mature than the original cartoon.

Azula is perhaps more realistically worried about losing her status as the golden child, but she is also missing the cruelty she and her father share. I understand worrying about making your character cartoonishly evil, but the Fire Nation is currently a deeply nationalistic empire trying to control the world. Where is the deep-seated belief that they are better than other people, not just trying to bring balance to the world? There is a line between creating complexity and toning down the very real evil inherent in this plan.

Roku: I can only say what the fuck was that. He was barely there, and not the serious master to Aang's youthful exuberance.

The Ugly

Show, Don't Tell: The show's single biggest issue seems to be speeding through story parts by simply stating things. Instead of allowing the audience to discover, trusting that we are smart enough to understand, let's just blatantly say things like Zuko is the only reason the 41st division is alive to their faces. Even though in the context of the story Ozai literally already said that.... it's the division, the division for Zuko, Zuko's division.

Thematic Misunderstandings: I think this show makes several minor changes with major implications, such as airbenders actively fighting the firebenders, when airbenders are known for their pacifist nature and the lie of an Airbender fighting force is actively propaganda. Similarly, Aang very quickly accepts his role as the avatar and doesn't even run away in the beginning. Without this conflict between his desire to be a carefree child and the fact that the world needs him - the show loses a key aspect of Aang's character. Also, the obsession with downplaying the avatar state as something dangerous feels like a disservice to the tradition, connection, and strength of the avatar, which can be permanently destroyed as the trade-off for that kind of power. It's dangerous for the balance of the entire world, not just because it's powerful!

The Agni Kai: Zuko's fight against his father is one of the defining moments of Ozai's cruelty, not just because he is willing to fight his child, but because Zuko tried to do everything right. Zuko shows deference to his father, apologizes, and most importantly refuses to fight! The determination not to upset his father and still be grievously injured and banished is a hugely important theme for the fire nation and Zuko's life as a whole. He tries to do everything he is supposed to and only regains his father's acceptance after he "kills" Aang. Zuko's struggle between moral vs. social right and wrong in contrast to his family is hugely important to his character.

-----

TLDR: ATLA was a fantastical animated television show that was never afraid to show character development and flaws. When you turn 20 episodes into 8, you are bound to lose something. You hollowed out the middle, leaving the shell of important moments and events without ever wondering if all the times in between formed the true spirit of the show.

Rating: 6.5/10 It's perfectly fine and worth a watch. Not a disaster, but certainly falls flat of the original.

[binarystarhero]

hi i just wanted to say- bsh is absolutely incredible and ive found myself deep in hyperfixation for the past week over it (i . may or may not have gone through blogs when i originally found out you had privated the asks from your dev tumblr + combed multiple for crumbs of ray lore hPOSDHIS). but like . it is so so lovely and im glad i finally gave it a shot. ive replayed it over a dozen times the past week and ive kicked my feet like a teenager with a crush whenever i thought of him!! i found this blog a bit less than an hour ago and reading the asks i missed has been THRILLING.

also like?? the wound scene in particular is INSANE? because i remember reading through it the first time and being struck with the most insane urge to be like . what if mc sank their fingers in a bit . bc its so insanely erotic to me oDOFHSID. when i saw the ask from another fellow ex-catholic i felt so vindicated ab the brainrot over the side wound and im !!! the fact he's forcing mc's hand into parting his flesh , , , i read up on the reasons behind it but also . the fact that it could that beneath the annoyance and resentment in the moment that him shoving their fingers into his wound could also be seen as a desperate bid for connection, for understanding that mc, in that moment, could not possibly comprehend has me going insane .

also !!! hes so fucking cute when the player meets him first in game??? like its so awkward and it endears me soooo bad . like "i prefer it that way" only to audibly say "lets just stop talking" had me in TEARS . i bet he rehearsed that interaction for hours and was mentally cursing himself for how it actually turned out lol

ALSO . the fact that ray is so off-put by the mint latte's color makes me hysterical . bc in this modern day and age matcha has become so popular (and idk how it is in bsh, but im just headcannoning it as the same in my head) so the fact ray is so perturbed is delightful . like damn . u rlly are an old white man (affectionate). it makes me want to have him try desserts from my culture (which can be bright green among other colors) and its so !!! it makes me so genuinely delighted to have had this little interaction with him and also knowing he enjoys watching the great british bake off . i want to see the inside of his fridge so bad .

OH on that note, did ray not have a lot of exposure to different cultural foods after he debuted as a hero? i know he grew up in a gov. facility and then lived in oklahoma with steel sherrif, and can cook well now, so is his culinary know-how mainly derived from western cooking standards/varieties?

oh- and did you have a cologne in mind for ray? its mentioned offhandedly in bsh that mc finds his cologne pleasant, and i wanted to know if you had one in mind when writing the scene/scents that you associate with ray!!!

and also- you mentioned ray has had sexual experiences in the past- does he have experience being pegged/penetrated? for . scientific purposes . of course .

(dont feel pressured to answer all these questions but im just so curious about ray and his backstory- i adore him so much sidofiUSDFH)

ANYWAYS im digitally sending you so many flowers and hearts, concrete. binary star hero skyrocketed to the top of my fave visual novels and i know its going to be consuming my mind for the foreseeable future LOL

Thankyou for your ask, it's so lovely and thoughtful 💕 I'm so sorry you had to wait so long for me to bring back the asks!

"That him shoving their fingers into his wound could also be seen as a desperate bid for connection," - Oh absolutely! The whole game Ray is searching desperately for that connection in a way that is so inhuman it inherently separates himself from the connection he desperately wants. I also love that section of the game because it does feel like a snippet that is so thematic of Ray's whole character in that way.

"i bet he rehearsed that interaction for hours and was mentally cursing himself for how it actually turned out lol" - Yep, he rehearsed it in his head a bunch and still fucked it up, in that moment he really wished he could kill himself lol.

RE: the mint latte - Ray just does not get out that much because he is so busy with work and even if he had the time he isn't really sure what he would do or where he would go. So that being said, Ray absolutely wouldn't know what matcha is 💀. He is an old man, not necessarily in age, but absolutely in being out of touch with current fads and events.

Did ray not have a lot of exposure to different cultural foods - He hasn't, most of his cooking knowledge is pretty western. But he would be absolutely delighted to try a bunch of new foods he hasn't had before.

did you have a cologne in mind for ray? - Nope, I would have to do some research to figure this out lol.

does he have experience being pegged/penetrated - All of his previous experiences have been pretty vanilla, but that is due to him not being fully invested in those experiences/partners and mainly just preforming for what his partner wanted. So he hasn't been penetrated in any of his previous sexual encounters... but with MC though he may be skeptical he would be willing to try (smirk)