#it's both post and pre canon lol

[bumblee27]

@mcyt-yuri-week Day 2; AU / Post Canon

<33

(totally not late wdym)

[dimiclaudeblaigan]

"yuri lowell is a manly heterosexual"

yuri lowell:

[fullscoreshenanigans]

#I mean. she's an emotional child and should be allowed to cry #no need for shaming tears (via @officersnickers)

One of my favorite things about the series is how it doesn't shame any of the characters for crying, regardless of gender.

(Chapter 55)

So I think Silent's ire is rooted in the simplification and sanding down of her character in order to more easily facilitate stock narratives/scenarios rather than the act of Emma crying at all, especially when it's such a significant moment of "The Day Emma Cried" short story from the first light novel (released back in 2018) that it's the focus of the title and it's laid out plainly in the text itself as something that both Norman and Ray recognize.

Norman notes it again years later during chapter 4/S1 episode 2.

It's why his reunion with Emma in chapter 118/chapter 119 is such a striking moment with how her tears initially seem to flow without any preamble, only wordless disbelief as the magnitude of everything happening rapidly registered in her brain and a figurative switch has been flipped.

It's not that she doesn't experience those emotions, but that it's not how she generally regulates and expresses them.

(Chapter 3 | Chapter 49 | Chapter 109 | Chapter 110)

I'm assuming the fanfics in mind weren't having her cry as part of a character study examining the ramifications of how being thrust into a leadership role at such a young age and internalizing so much trauma while maintaining a front for the sake of others and leaned into being more tropey, which is something that people are free to write as an exercise in flexing their creative muscles, but it's not something I'm keen on reading either.

Alright, so something tha really bugs me in the tpn fandom, particularly in fanfics, is how they characterize Emma. There's a lot of fic I've read that make her a crybaby. Now there isn't anything wrong with a character being a crybaby but it isn't accurate for Emma. Yes she's emotional and sensitive and open about it, but you need to remember that she's canonly only ever cried 3 or 4 times in the span of 15 years.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

sept 2024 4koma update

No updates for the usual manga adaptations! Only a 4koma update this month!

This time it features Cater (and his clones) playing basketball with the Basketball Club members. While playing, Cater also focuses on filming himself for Magicam.

During the course of the comic, we learn that the teachers would never allow for Cater to use his UM for class. However, Cater brings out a clone if there is an odd number of students per class and they need to partner up. (Usually it’s Idia, lol) The problem with this is that Cater doesn’t have the endurance to keep his clone around for the entire class, so it usually poofs halfway through.

Vargas cameos at the end to train them all even harder. Cater bails on Ace, Floyd, and Jamil, leaving them to their fates. Scummy of him, but very in-character 😂

This particular update made me realize how much continuity there is in the 4koma. For example:

Cater states that he and Idia are the same class. This is true; they are both in Class 3-B.

Floyd expresses annoyance and anger when Ace comments that he and Jade are the same because they are twins. This is something that Floyd has historically disliked, demonstrated in the Beans Day event as well as his own School Uniform vignette.

Cater is shown using his UM. When his clones vanish, he disappears in a cloud of playing cards. This was first depicted in the Episode of Heartslabyul manga and implies that this is how his UM works in all interpretations. One discrepancy, however, is that in the Episode of Heartslabyul manga, all the cards are diamond suits. In the 4koma, the suits are varied—you can see hearts, spades, and clubs in addition to diamonds. (A friend theorized that the Heartslabyul manga is pre-Riddle OB and the 4koma is post-Riddle OB; in that time, Cater has realized the value of friendship and so the suits represented on his cards changed. But that’s just a theory—a gaaaaame theory!)

Cater has used his UM in other physical activities to get the upper hand or to get the task done faster. For example, to paint the roses or to get running his laps done sooner.

With all this continuity going on, maybe we can take some of the lore drops in the 4koma as basically canon? 🤔 (Like how certain characters are in certain courses together!)

[unhappy-sometimes]

a 2024 reading retrospective

so. i read a lot of fics in 2024. here are some of my favorites.

before i get started, please note that these are not in any particular order and these are not all of my favorites!!!!!!!! i wanted to include so many more but i just wasn't able to! also please don't roast me for reading stuff from more than two years ago :(((

anyway, here we go!!

1. Air by Cantare

as always, @cantareincminor knocks it out of the park. i'm a sucker for alternate first meeting AUs and Air is one of the good ones!! i find that it can be hard to find authentic sounding banter between yor and twilight, but cantare manages it somehow! they have such great and natural sounding dialogue. it's just a one chapter fic, but maybe if we ask nicely enough, cantare will continue one day 😏

2. like the wild geese by anonymous_viscacha

okay in all honesty, i read this for the first time last week and i scrambled to add this one to the list. it's a short one shot about a shared lunch break between yor and loid, but it's so sweet and endearing that i just had to put it on. i love love love it when people let loid and yor catch up on the childhood they lost because they deserve it. i'm kinda obsessed with this fic right now.

3. what happens outside by aerequets

it's kinda unfair that @aerequets gets to be a great artist and author but here we are. i'm not complaining tho because what happens outside is a delightful read. i enjoy exploring post reveal pre relationship twiyor and this fic is perfect for that!! it's also just really cute and reading things from yor's perspective is super endearing.

4. chaos theory by sarsaparillia

so ngl this one scared me at first because i do NOT like major character death fics and this one really seems like it, but this fic was unexpectedly wholesome and has a happy ending!!! it's short but bittersweet so i can't really talk about it without spoiling it any more. go read it! it's short!

5. eventually i fall into you, you attack my heart by princessguard

i know this is a controversial (and somewhat ironic) take but i usually really don't like eden AUs but. this fic is proof that there are always exceptions to the rule. this one is a short little story about a serious student at eden and the weird girl he keeps meeting in trees. i don't know exactly why i love this one so much but it do. it's cute and the epilogue got me grinning like a fool.

6. like real people do by Puolain

once again another alternative meeting AU. i dunno, man, it's just so much fun to see twilight and yor having the chance to be real people and accidentally fall in love which each other. i eat that up every time. great work @loveroma!

7. I'll Be There in a Minute, Dear by fluffmelange

i was SO CLOSE to putting fluffmelange's "Leave No Trace of Yourself" here because that one is SO FUNNY but alas, this delightful fic barely won out in the end. you know what you should do? read both. fluffmelange is keeping us all fed with short and sweet fics that are so much fun to read. this one is a favorite simply because the premise is so goofy and simple but i could 100% see it being canon lol. we are in your capable hands @fluffmelange.

8. I've Been Throwing Bricks At Your Window Like There's No Better Way To Say Hello by thesmallestfishinthesea

this fic has such a silly and simply premise but i love it so so so much. it's about the three times yor forgets her keys (plus one extra time loid forgets!!!!) and it's so cute to have a view inside yor's (often frazzled) mind. i don't know what else to say other than READ IT RIGHT NOW!!! great work @smallest-fish-inthesea!

this is not all!! i really wanted to include the wonderful works of @whateversawesome, @briefhottubcoffee, @spencer-is-alive, luinel, and more (ao3 literally went out just as i was typing this UGH what awful timing) but i wanted to do something to give back to this awesome community. fun fact, today is my birthday and there's a tradition in my family where the birthday person gives presents to others. so this is my present to everyone!! thanks for everything you guys and here's to another great year!

oh oh oh one last thing, i tried to link everyone's tumblr if they have one, so if there's an author on here who has a tumblr that i didn't link, let me know and i'll link them.

okay! thanks everyone!

(ALSO DON'T MAKE FUN OF HOW DIFFERENT SOME OF THE DRAWING STYLES LOOK IN SOME OF THE ILLUSTRATIONS, I WAS EXPERIMENTING WITH DIFFERENT TECHNIQUES AND THEY LOOK STUPID ALL PUT TOGETHER LEAVE ME ALONE😭😭😭😭😭😭)

[ravengards-rogue]

bright as the morning, soft as the rain

sebastian (stardew valley) x reader

✧ tags : gender neutral reader, canon divergence, a lot of author liberties, alcohol, fluffy, pre-relationship, mildly suggestive but sooo mildly lol.

✧ wc : 3.4k (this is ridiculous lol)

✧ a/n : the thing to get me out of my writing slump being sdv fanfiction is hilarious.

hi! this is the first part to a silly little alternative first kiss series i have planned for the stardew romanceable characters. i think the other ones will be shorter (hopefully but lol).

i will link the rest of them as they get posted. i hope u like. rbs appreciated. also tagging @antique-remains (hi this is fang on my side blog lol)

✧ synopsis : sebastian wants to do anything but think of you. he's failing miserably on that front. sam and abigail are not helping.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

“Earth to Sebastian,” Sam snaps his fingers in front of Sebastian’s face. Sebastian jumps in his skin. “What’s with you today? If you’re not gonna take our pool playing tradition seriously, I’m not playing.”  

He swipes a hand over his face, cursing under his breath. Half-empty Joja-Cola can sits directly besides his pool stick, the faint air of smoke and liquor in the air. Right. He’s here to play pool.  

 He pinches the bridge of his nose with exasperation, shaking off the feeling before scratching the back of his neck.  

“No, sorry. I wanna play, just…give me a sec.”  

“Got something on your mind Seb?”  Abigail prods, unfortunately intuitive. Sebastian scowls at her. She stands to her feet to get closer, sitting on the edge of the pool table with her cheek turned just enough to look at him. Her smile is coy. “A certain someone, maybe?”  

His scowl deepens, lip curled in distaste. “No. Move. You’re in my way.”  

“You’re a bad liar.” Abigail says with a resigned sigh, arms crossed. “You weren’t this spacey last time you dated someone. ”  

“Fuck off,” Sebastian sighs. “It’s not like that yet.”  

Abigail grins before Sebastian can  correct the slip up. “Yet. Yet, he says.” 

Sebastian feels himself blush. “Ugh.” 

He sighs as he stands back up, leaning against his pool stick. Sam stops whatever he was doing (messing with the pool table deliberately, Sebastian assumes), taking newfound interest in the conversation.  

“Oh, you two talking about our new neighbor?” 

“Not really new. It’s been like… what a year or two almost?” Abigail adds. Sam shrugs.  

“That’s true. But it feels new to me anyway.” Sam says. He gives up on pool it seems like, abandoning his stick on the table in favor of navigating to the box pizza balancing on another table nearby and his drink. Sebastian watches him shimmy a slice of the pie, not bothering to blow on it as he eats. “Oh is that why your heads in the clouds? Figures.”  

“I didn’t say that. Abigail said that.”  

“And you’re saying she’s wrong?”  

Sebastian huffs. “…Yes.”  

Sam laughs good-naturedly. “Pfft. Uh-huh, yeah. I super believe you.”  

“Fuck you both.” 

“Come on, Seb. It’s not like everyone in town doesn’t know.”  

Sebastian’s frown deepens. “Not everyone.”  

Sam seats himself on the couch again and Abigail joins him. It creaks under the weight of them as they get comfortable together. Sebastian stays where he is, sitting on the tables edge with a drink in his hand and an itch for a cigarette.  

Sam counts on his fingers. “Your mom knows. My mom knows. Abby’s mom knows. If they all know then our dads definitely also know. Who else does that leave? Our towns tiny dude. Like I’d say Elliot doesn’t, but he’s here on Friday’s and he catches up with gossip all the time. So basically everyone.”  

“…Shit.”  

“See? Told you.”  

Sebastian doesn’t need everyone to know what’s going on between you. He doesn’t even know what’s going on between you. It’s taken him longer than he cares to admit to even acknowledge that there was something there. And he didn’t know it was mutual until recently when Abigail came dropped by to tell him she overheard her dad explaining old Pelican Town traditions on dating and romance. 

(Abigail always describes things in excruciating detail, adding all the bells and whistles. This makes her great to play the Solarion Chronicles with.  

It also makes her  good at artfully recounting interactions. He can easily picture you the way she said she saw you, overalls  half unbuttoned, dirt covered and leaning over the counter just slightly giving Pierre your rapt attention.   

The thought of it is enough to trigger some sense of affection he’s never entirely felt before.)  

It’s not like Sebastian is against the idea of dating you, it’s just— 

“I think you should go out with them Seb. I like ‘em a lot more than your exes.”  

Sebastian sighs. “You guys know why I’m on the fence.”  

Sam shrugs. “Does they even count though? They’re not actually from here. They live here sure but they didn’t grow up here.”  

“Right? That’s what I think too. Might as well go for it.” Abigail shrugs, glancing at Sebastian. “I really don’t get why you’re hesitating. Something else has to bugging you.”  

“I thought that too.” Sam adds. 

A faint blush creeps up his neck. He loves his friends and sometimes, he appreciates how well they know him. Times like this, he thinks it wouldn’t kill them to be a little less perceptive.  

They’re not wrong. It is something of a flimsy excuse to try not to think about you. Sebastian has always had a not dating policy about people he grew up with. He nearly dated Abigail in highschool and it was a shitshow. So he’s vowed to never do it again.  

But that’s not the real reason he’s been rejecting the possibility in his head. He uses it more for himself than anyone else. It’s not like he can give them the real answer because he thinks it’s one hundred times more embarrassing.  

How the fuck is he meant to tell them the reason he keeps hesitating to define your relationship is because he feels like he likes you too much?  

That’s the real reason he’s going in circles about it. It’s so cringe it makes him want to break out in hives but well, it is true. Sebastian likes you—like really fucking likes you—and it’s freaking him out because he thinks it’s the first time he’s really liked anyone.  

Dating has never been all that fun for Sebastian. It wasn’t something that felt meaningful. He dated mostly in college and only one of those relationships lasted a significant amount of time. And even then the relationship was never all that genuine. They ultimately broke up because Sebastian realized they were fundamentally incompatible. As bad as it sounds, there wasn’t a real sense of attachment there, not once. It was just convenient for both of them. He realized at that point he should probably just focus on himself.  

That was about when he moved back home to the valley to live with his family in his post graduation.  

And he had honestly expected it to be another few mundane years, akin to his early adolescence. He was so sure that he would spend it with the same restless feeling in his stomach, the same longing to be somewhere else. If he could never feel any belonging, at least he wanted to be somewhere he could blend in. He thought for sure moving back to Pelican Town was going to be nothing but dreadful and boring and existential. That he would come back and remember why he wanted to leave in the first place.  

Until one day, someone from the city moved into the old, overgrown farm and turned the entirety of the valley upside down.  

When you met for the first time, Sebastian honestly didn’t care. Nothing goes on in Pelican Town, so he figured you’d be the main subject of gossip for a few weeks before ultimately blending into the background of his life just like everyone else. He also didn’t think you’d last long living here. You were part of the corporate rat race he so detests and you didn’t grow up in the valley. It’s a hard place to get used to after living somewhere more populated.  

Against all odds  though - you did stay. And you’ve integrated yourself so much with the people living—himself included here it kind of baffles him. He doesn’t entirely remember what it was like before you came here.   

Sebastian couldn’t have predicted in a million years that that stupid help wanted sign in front of Pierre’s store would start actually being useful. But lo and behold, at least three times a week he finds you with full pockets - jogging after whomever last posted to give them what they need. And you do that without anyone really asking you too.  

You’re just so… helpful. And social in a way he can’t describe. Everyone in town has nothing but nice things to say about you. You’ve given everyone a gift on their birthday thus far. You’re keeping the entire economy afloat with your farm right now and you regularly clear those mines out for monsters. You even paid for the bus to get repaired, too - so now it’s up and running again.  

You’re full of surprises. And easy to adore, himself included.  

What surprises him most often is how easy it is for him to be around you. He doesn’t turn you away even when you visit his room sharply at 9am and hover over him in bed. He doesn’t get even the slightest bit upset when you have a mundane and disruptive conversation hours before he usually gets up. He keeps everything you’ve ever gifted him, and he often thinks of inviting you to things he does with his friends. He smiles when he sees you running around doing some chore, frantic and covered in muck - all mess and sunlight.  

You’re… nice. Honest, hard-working, and cheerful. Kind. Sincere in wanting to know him. You should completely and utterly exhaust him given those are your main characteristics. You should be someone he’s simply fundamentally incompatible with. 

But more than anything, you’re thoughtful. And it disarms him so utterly he feels overwhelmed by the thought. From the start, you put in a lot of effort into maintaining connections and he was no different. It’s just impacted him so much more than he thought it would. If he lets himself think too far on it, he really won’t stop thinking about you.  

To the point he’s been picturing what it’s like to live on the farm.  He’s in deep. 

Despite all of your idiosyncrasies, you really seem to give a shit about things in a way that feels utterly foreign to him. This extends to anything and everything. It extends to Sebastian, and it shows in the ways you don’t undermine him. Little things. You take his work seriously and apologize for disturbing him, you don’t immediately take the side of his family when he talks about them despite being friends with them too, you don’t interrogate him about what he is or is not comfortable with. You show up and linger in his life, and then you go off to your own thing. 

More and more, he gets the urge to stop you before you go. It’s too much. It makes him act…lame and he’s not too fond of it. He’s never really felt this strongly about anyone before and he’s a little bit of a wreck about what it does to him. So it’s not that he doesn’t want to date you, but more that he does so bad he doesn’t even want to admit it.  

 But well.. He isn’t sure it’s even working. As soon as you walk into a room it’s like— 

He’s lost in his thoughts for a while, only to get pulled out of them by some big commotion happening in the main part of the saloon.  

“Ah, you’re here. What perfect timing kid,”   

Shit. Shit  

Only somewhat obscured by the distance and wall separating their space from the bar - Sebastian catches a glimpse of you and feels something uncomfortably warm in his chest. His friends both make little oooh sounds, no doubt planning to do something stupid. He should intervene but he gets too caught up in pretending he doesn’t see you. Turning away stiffly, he pretends to be looking at something else while he listens on your conversation. It’s not too hard to hear, anyway.  

“Hi, Pam.” He can practically hear the smile in your voice. “Here’s your ale. Managed to grow a hops plant indoors this season so the brew is pretty fresh. It’s strong, fair warning.”  

A beat of muffle conversations follows up with a a loud sigh. “That’s exactly what I needed. Your pretty good with your liquor and spirits, huh kid? Thanks for the drink. Here’s what I owe ya.”  

“Selling alcohol under the table at my establishment? Tsk tsk.” Gus adds.  

It’s at this point Sebastian lets himself look at you properly. You lean with your elbows against the counter. You look a mess like usual, but you’ve got on a cowboy hat today that Sebastian finds ridiculously cute. You smile at Gus sheepishly.  

“Sorry. Can I buy myself a drink to make up for it?” You offer.  

“I’ll do you one better and give it to you on the house.”  

“Aw, what? Can’t let you do that Gus.”  

“You can and you will. You’re always looking out for everyone. Here, it’s a nice imported IPA. Nice and cold. Have a drink and go relax. Some of your friends are here too tonight I think.”  

“Oh?”  

On cue, you turn your head to the group of them. When you and Sebastian meet eyes, you brighten visbly - all smiles. He’s so caught up in it, he doesn’t even catch Sam next to him until he throw an arm around his shoulder and waves you over.  

You weave through the tables until you cross the threshold of their little hide-out. Abigail greets you first with a short sidehug before you go over to him and Sam.  

“Hey,”  

“Hi Sam.” You pause, tilting your head. “Did you cut your hair? It’s shorter than usual.”  

Sam beams. “I did! And you’re the first one to notice, other than my mom. Goes to show who my real friends are,”  

Sebastian nudges him, pulling away from his grip. “I see enough of your face everyday. There’s nothing for me to observe.”  

“It looks nice,” You add. Charming and genuine. Sam smiles at you. 

“Thanks,”  

Sebastian is weirdly jealous until you address him in conversation. “Hey to you too Sebastian.”  

His heart thumps. This is ridiculous. He swallows. “Hey. Uh. How have you been?”  

Awkward. So awkward. You smile a little and lean on the pool table besides him with your drink, taking a sip. “Good. Busy as usually getting ready for Winter. Renovated our coop recently so I’ve got a whole bunch of baby bunnies I gotta take care of. Went and bought another heater, some extra hay. Just farm stuff. Not very interesting,”  

“I find it interesting,” He replies quickly. You lip twitches in a smile.  

“I’m glad.”  

“Baby bunnies sound so cute,” Abigail adds. Sebastian glances at her as she joins the rest of them. “What else have you got in there?”  

“A little of everything. Chickens, ducks. I’ve got a void chicken too, kinda freaky. Oh and these little dino looking guys.”  

Abigail looks bright eyed. “Would it be like… weird if I asked to go over? I kinda wanna see them?”  

You laugh. “Not at all. I don’t mind. You could honestly go over whenever but it’s hard to navigate the farm if I’m not there, though I’m trying to fix that this upcoming winter.”  

You glance then at Sebastian, eyes almost sparkling. “You should come over sometime, too. You’d like the void chicken I think. And I’ve got a slime hutch.”  

Sebastian sputters at the obvious invitation only barely managing to cover up the shock to his system. You don’t seem put off, but it’s obvious you know what you’re doing. He’s going to explode.  

Abigail and Sam make not-so-subtle eye contact before Sam clears his throat.  

“Well, uh, me and Abi are gonna head out. We’ve got some stuff to catch up on, but there’s still a few hours until the saloon closes so you two should stay here and finish up  our drinks and stuff. Uh… yeah. See you again,”  

Sam nods, quickly rifling for his things. Abigail follows in his foot steps.  

“Mhm, yep. See you,”  

Sam gives him one last encouraging look before turning around and leaving. The two of them scurry off in a blink of an eye, before Sebastian can get a single word in about the situation or tell them to stay. And now he’s alone with you, quietly wondering if it’s as awkward as it feels.  

You’re the one to break the ice. “Do you have anywhere you need to be tomorrow?”  

Sebastian blinks. “Uh no. Not really.”  

“Me either. We should stay back then, for a little while.” You offer with a shrug. “Why not, right?”  

Right. Sebastian is being really chill about this entire interaction. “Right.”  

“I’m glad I got to see you tonight,” You say, out of the blue. Sebastian nearly jumps in his skin at the admission. “I’ve been pretty busy with the growing season ending so I haven’t been you know, able to come by as often. I don’t know if it made a huge difference to you but—“ 

“It did.” He blurts out. Your mouth opens then closes again, a blush crawling up his neck as he tucks his chin in embarrassment. “It was uh, weird for me. I know you’re busy and I like my alone time but I did… miss you.” 

“Yeah?”  

He’s almost too afraid to meet your eyes. When he manages  - you’re smiling fondly, sweetly with a sense of amusement. It rolls off of you in waves and it becomes clear to him in that split second that you don’t really intend to hide how you feel despite him being so hellbent on making sure he does. You’re not hiding that you like him. It feels stupidly warm and fuzzy.  

You look like you’ve been working all day and you smell a little like grass and rain in a way that makes him want to draw that much closer to you. So he does, leaving into your space.  

“Yeah.” He manages, barely getting the words out without being a complete wreck. “It’s new for me.”  

“Absence makes the heart grow fonder or whatever they say.” And then, even more sweetly. “I missed you too.”  

Fuck. You’re… fuck.  

Sebastian pretends to wipe something from his face just to cover it and make his blush less obvious. This is embarrassing. He likes you so much and for what.  

There’s a million things he wants to tell you but he can’t find the words for any of them. So he tucks in on himself and wonders how the fuck he would ever go about actually dating you.  

You inch closer to him. Tentative, until your thighs are touching. He doesn’t move away.  

Suddenly, you’re close to him than you’ve ever been. Looking from the corner of your eye, Sebastian turns his head to meet your gaze. You’re an inch apart, and he’s looking at your lips - slightly chapped from the weather. The faint scent of alcohol on your breath makes him dizzy. Your smile is what does him in ultimately. A subtle tug at the corners of your mouth, a little teeth. Something about it precious.  

“Hey,” You mutter.  

“Hm,”  

“Can I kiss you?” 

He responds with leaning forward to do it first. It’s chaste and easy, and he does it because you’ve already taken so many first steps and he should, at least, take this one. So he leans into kiss you and it feels like his whole body is melting. It’s brief and light and he pulls away before it feels like it should be over.  

You part for a breath, a single heartbeat - before your hands go up to cradle the side of his face. You kiss him deeper that time. A real kiss where he can taste you enough to know that you drank - one he would only want to do in the privacy of this confined spaced. He feels you in your entirety  - returns your gesture with a careful hand on your waist that you don’t pull away from.  

And it doesn’t stop. Like neither of you want it too, despite everything else. Despite the fact he’s doing this in the bar of his hometown where everyone will gossip about it without doubt, and despite knowing that  - the drive to kiss you is stronger than his usual sensibilities. So you kiss and kiss and kiss, short presses followed by long, firm ones. A slight brush of tongue, the soft nip of teeth as you tease and tug. All mirth and amusement and fondness and bravery and god he is so into you it’s ridiculous.  

You manage to pull away from each other after a while. His lips are tingly. And there’s a sheepishness to you both that makes it hard for him to look your way.  

“Hey, Sebastian.”  

He clears his throat.  

“Uh. Yeah?”  

“I’m gonna ask you out tomorrow. Properly.”  

He blushes. “…I’d be cool with that.”  

You grin. “Yeah?”   

Shit he’s happy. He is not gonna get a lick of sleep tonight. He smiles a little to himself.  

“Yeah.”  

.𖥔 ݁ ˖˚☽˚｡⋆

[meanbossart]

LORE ASK COMPILATION: "Still not banging Halsin, Squid Games, Sun King, Failing at love quizzes, Bottoms, Tops, and Cats" Edition

He didn't, Halsin wasnt around for act 3, too busy healing land and saving ghost children or something!

THANK YOU/I'M SORRY, I'm surprised there isn't more Bhaalist Dark Urge/Spawn Astarion stuff out there. Don't get me wrong, I love a good evil power couple, but who can resist the good ol'heartbreak of a vicious unending cycle brought on by your own senselessness!

That wasn't something I was interested in previously just because acquiring the slayer form isn't part of his canon, but I've been looking at enough fromsoft games' monster designs that I might be a little inspired to try LOL

Also I am just a fan of the canon design and never before thought it needed altering. But I'll let it cook ;)

God damn it.

DU drow was VERY antagonizing towards the emperor since the moment he dropped the facade, which made the attempt ESPECIALLY hilarious - that poor guy is so, so lonely.

I don't recall the exact wording in-game, but once the emperor took his shiny squid pecs out and shot his shot, DU drow recoiled and called him disgusting. After having the visions of Stelmane forced upon him to make whatever baffling point the emperor was trying to make, DU drow smugly asserted that he had finally let the mask slip and their very terrible date ended with the Emperor enforcing their reluctant need for one another, for the time being.

In-prose, that would honestly be pretty much it. DU drow would have reacted with absolute revulsion at the prospect of being hit on by a mindflayer, and taken the Emperor's (miscalculated) moment of lashed-out vulnerability as a win - as proof that he was exactly as duplicitous as he always assumed the Emperor to be.

I can assure everyone that I am as entertained by the thought as the rest of you and it is in the cards for future art, I just have... So many prompts... I have at least 5 different mini-comics I want to make, BESIDES singular pieces, BESIDES the fanfic... I wish I had more time and more hands.

But DU drow's unlikely semi-success as a parental figure is hilarious to me. I think about it constantly.

I haven't entertained that thought much because its antithetical to DU drow's character. Whether "good" or evil, he wouldn't allow Astarion to ascend because of his fear of no longer being needed and his reluctance to watch his partner be consumed by out-sourced power and changed into something he despises. Realistically, in a world where Astarion is allowed to ascend they could only break up and inevitably kill each other soon after.

That said, I am fascinated by the Sun King and the implications that path has for his character. So far that is an arc that I can only really see Astarion taking on alone, though - that might change in the future, might not. We'll see!

IF I CAN MAKE IT NOT ENTIRELY MISERABLE, I JUST MIGHT.

He got 2 out of 3 questions wrong - which is to say he was way too honest and Astarion didn't like that.

Except for the "when is he the happiest" question, which he correctly answered with "when he's neck deep in gore".

This is not even a lore-embelishment, this is actually how that scene went for me and I cackled about it for ages.

He would love to get tied up for old-times' sake. I doubt he knows much about fancy knots but Astarion might (though I might be in a minority that doubts his enforced "sex life" was actually that interesting at all.)

Thank you so much!

You are mostly correct. Bhaalist drow, both pre and post tadpole would be much more keen on the idea of having people around who fulfill their every desire - EXCEPT for killing. That is a joy they take on for themselves.

"Canon" DU drow values his independence a lot, on the other hand. He's neutral on the idea of slavery (what a sentence) and wouldn't be opposed to temporary servicing, but the idea of having someone around waiting for orders doesn't attract him at all, or at least would get on his nerves quick. He much preffers to do things himself and makes sure that other people see how much he does not need assistance.

The answer is yes, basically LOL.

DU drow both adores and despises Sceleritas presence and he doesn't know why. It very much reflects the type of relationship they used to have prior to DU drow's memory loss, and it's one of those things that he has conflicting feelings about but not any context for them.

I sadly doubt that the boys would become parents during Shadowheart's lifetime (it's for the best, they have a lot of work to do before I would trust them not to drop a baby), but honestly she strikes me as really liking kids as long as she doesn't have to, well, have them LOL.

And thank you so much for enjoying them and humoring me!

I think it is less about bottoming-topping and more about enjoying a more submissive role during sex, as well as in other scenarios. He believes that giving control away is, in a way, a show of devotion that goes both ways - his own for the willingness to do so, and his partner's for not taking advantage of it despite his wanting them to do so.

With one-night-stands (which he occasionally had pre-tadpole) he would still bottom without any of the submissiveness. This is because he didn't have the capacity to understand what it was about bottoming that attracted him, and led him to feeling constantly unfulfilled and frustrated (he just isn't build for no-strings-attatched type of arrangements, lol.)

This means that he really could operate either way depending on the partner as long as he got that fix of docility, whether it be from the bottom or top.

I think of Astarion as being similarly versatile but leaning more in the opposite direction when it comes to power-dynamics - though it being less about dominance itself and more about being pampered and catered to - and, of course, getting to do what he wants. Though he's willing to try most things a partner is particularly enthusiastic for just to see how he feels about it.

That said with DU drow he does prefer to top for a plethora of reasons.

I didn't have this piece of lore thought-up at the time, but I should have made them look like the lady he lost his virginity to.

Him and Astarion were gobbling those things up until the emperor reveal, then they both quit it cold-turkey after DU drow stomped the astral-tadpole dead (and back then you didn't have to roll any dice to do it, because otherwise we would have weird veiny DU drow to deal with for sure because he would NOT have suceeded that save.)

DU drow's feelings towards animals is a constant in every iteration of his character. They are organic little pieces of art wandering about the world that act upon their own laws and regulations, ones which humanoids aren't privy to - except for when they intrude into that world through magic and try to understand it through their overly-complicated systems and concepts. If a cat made the temple it's home, it can stay.

[nadas-dirthalen]

Dragon Age: the Veilguard Was Packed with Lore — But Many of Us Overlooked It

— PART TWO —

[ 1 ]

Welcome back, friends and travellers. If you've been here a while, you'll know that I wrote 30,000 words of predictions in the week and a half before DA:tV released. But here's the most surprising thing—I was right, for the most part.

I spent my first Veilguard playthrough grinning (and then sobbing) at all the lore reveals. And here's the thing: I think most of us missed a lot of them, including even me.

So let's unpack some more.

Titans and Spirits: Dark and Light, Abyss and Fade, the Eternal Hymn and its Endless Listeners (2/2)

This is your warning: This post will contain spoilers for the entirety of Dragon Age: the Veilguard, and all Dragon Age content made before Veilguard.

I've spoken a lot about the titans before. In fact, they make up the bedrock (lol) of many of my pre-Veilguard theories. While a lot of what I said a month ago has since become canon in Veilguard, there's a lot that remains as speculation.

Today, I'm going to talk about why I still stand by my theory from October: that the titans and the spirits have far, far more in common than we think, and that this is of vital importance for the next game(s).

Today's Discussion:

What Solas' Creation and Harding's Personal Quest Have in Common

Not Only Do Titans Behave as Spirits... Spirits Behave as Titans

The Dark and the Light, Sundered

Atonement Solas' Promise: He (Still) Seeks Regeneration

What Solas' Creation and Harding's Personal Quest Have in Common

Thanks to Veilguard (and the hints that came before it, if you're coming here from my previous posts), we know that Solas and Harding have far more in common than they think. Both are inexorably connected to the titans: Solas because his body was crafted from lyrium, and Harding because of how her Stone magic awoke after touching Solas' lyrium dagger.

I've theorized before that I think Solas is still connected to Isatunoll, but that the creation of the Veil altered or harmed this connection somehow. Veilguard touches on this with its implications: Solas says the blight senses his presence during the Minrathous portion of the endgame, and says during his Atonement ending that he is able to soothe the titans' anger. It also asserts, during Solas' Memory #3, that the ritual to create the Veil went wrong, wounding Solas in the process.

Both Solas and Harding, then, have to do with both the titans' past and their future. The Temple of Solasan is referenced when this codex in Trespasser mentions the titans needing to be forgotten, and we know now that Mythal and Solas would come to sunder the titans with the lyrium dagger. Solas is the reason the titans were forgotten, and is likely the source of the song "I am the One."

Harding, by contrast, is one of few dwarves whose magic has awoken. The Titan Shade in her personal quest demands that the world remember the anger and pain it has forgotten: the titans' sundering (as well as her own anger). The titans have no future without acknowledgement of their past, and so both Solas and Harding have instrumental roles to play going forward (assuming both are alive and have agreed to this).

It is evident, also, that the pain of being forgotten is traumatic to the titans. Cole mentions this several times in Inquisition, as referenced in the last post. Songs that once sang the same; titans stuck asleep, forgetting how to wake.

And here is where Solas and Harding's parallels really come to light.

This trauma forces Harding to make a choice with her Titan Shade. In every scenario, she acknowledges the Shade's pain. Her choice, then, is to embrace that pain and carry it in Compassion... or embrace the titans' anger, as well as her own. In other words, as is referenced by Stalgard...

I drew close, and the sound became something more. I could feel it, Lace Harding…. Rage, sorrow, and a vast loneliness. — Codex: Letter for Lace Harding

Rage. Harding must choose between Compassion and Rage. We've seen this before. It comes up in Down Among the Dead Men, a story in the Tevinter Nights anthology:

Following a trauma, spirits are pushed toward changing. For so long in this franchise, we called these changes "demons," and still do. But the creature itself is not different—it just exists in a different state.

Emmrich says exactly this, equating spirits and the Titan Shade.

I once communed with a soul who shared a tale of deep sorrow from his youth. "So that the truth wouldn't be lost," he said. Interestingly enough, he could only bear to recall the event after death, when the memory had lost its sting. (l cannot share the tale. A Watcher must keep the confidences of the dead.) Your experience with what you call "the Titan's Shade" brought this anecdote to mind. As you say, in the first moments of your transformation, you were unable or unwilling to confront the depth of the Titans' sorrow. But unlike my friend, this pain was never quite your own. Instead of being trapped within, it fled elsewhere. — Codex: From Emmrich, on Sorrow Denied

We see, now, that the titans do the same thing. The only difference is that Harding is connected to the titan through Isatunoll; her spirit is not, itself, inside the titan. Put through a trauma, though, the titans turn. This is something I theorized as happening to Solas' titan upon his creation, because the trauma of the elves making bodies from its lyrium caused the titan to lash out and fight back, just like Cole says in DAI.

This is why both Solas and Harding are capable of soothing the titans' anger. It doesn't matter that Harding is a dwarf and Solas is one of the elvhen: both are still connected to their titan.

But as much as Veilguard tells us about the Titans being more similar to spirits than previously thought, it does not stop there. No: if you listen closely, Veilguard whispers to you that this similarity goes both ways. Spirits are more similar to titans than we ever could have imagined.

Not Only Do Titans Behave as Spirits... Spirits Behave as Titans

Something caught my eye during my very first Veilguard playthrough, super early on. Of course, I played the whole game through the lens of my own theories, wondering if there could be a connection between titans and spirits.

Immediately I saw, on the floor of a cell in the Ossuary:

I am Nyrys I was Nyrys I we were we are Nyrys — Note: Inmate Scribbling

Immediately, I was reminded of Harding's description of Isatunoll: "It means 'I am here.' But no, not 'I.' 'I' is singular. But it isn't 'we,' either. 'We' is multiple, but also separate... Isatunoll is the eternal hymn that encompasses all time. All spaces. I am. We are. This. That. Here. There. Now. And forever."

That seems to suggest that Nyrys, an inmate who was probably turned into an abomination, might be connected to Isatunoll. The note is written almost the exact same way that Harding is speaking. "But Lore," I hear you saying, "Couldn't that just be an abomination thing, a spirit struggling to share a body?"

I thought so, too. Right up until this.

Late after— (the handwriting abruptly alters:) a PEACE cut from the ALL golden stranded weaves PROTECTION CAGE keep them OUT keep me IN (Drawn below is a decagonal diagram of perfectly even, intersecting geometric lines.) — Codex: Lucanis' Logbook, 2

Understanding that Spite is likely writing with a phonetic understanding of the common tongue, we can interpret his words as 'a PIECE, cut from the ALL.' While I cannot say for certain what the rest describes (it could be Spite's opinion on the Ossuary, a reference to the titan's sundered dreams, or anything in between)... I know that these two first lines clearly talk about a spirit who has been cut away from something larger and grander than itself. The "all."

Now that sounds like Isatunoll, to me.

If you've been here since my October posts, you know where this is going. I've got to find a way to check this idea against other sources. And the first place I go, usually? The Chant of Light, for all the Chantry's evident faults.

I'm reminded of the creation of the Maker's first and second children.

Then the Voice of the Maker rang out, The first Word, And His Word became all that might be: Dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. And from it made his firstborn. — Threnodies 5:1

That exact phrasing—"dream and idea, hope and fear, endless possibilities"—is used both in the creation of the Maker's first and second children. The spirits and the second children's souls. It is not used anywhere else in the Chant of Light.

At last did the Maker From the living world Make men. Immutable, as the substance of the earth, With souls made of dream and idea, hope and fear, Endless possibilities. — Threnodies 5:5

I've said before that I believe that all spirits originate as thoughts—namely, the thoughts of one or more of the titans. I think that even the souls of living people apply, here, despite what some of Emmrich's codices discuss. When you consider how Solas speaks about the Inquistor's spirit in DAI, it seems apparent that (at least to Solas) spirits and souls are interchangeable terms, when they belong to a living person.

Additionally, there is a manor in the Hossberg Wetlands that features an Obsession demon locked away that Rook must kill once they get to its location. The party speculates how the demon may have gotten there, and (I believe Rook) comments on how it is possible that the person from the manor themself may have become the demon.

That would imply that their soul was capable of doing so.

Now, let's go back to how spirits (the Maker's first children) and dwarves (the Maker's second children) are in possession of the same souls, per the Chant of Light. Understanding that the Chant of Light is flawed and that I do not believe that Solas is the Maker (rather, that Solas may have come from the titan that Andraste spoke to), I want to draw attention to this verse.

Then the Maker said: "To you, My second-born, I grant this gift: In your heart shall burn An unquenchable flame All-consuming, and never satisfied. From the Fade I crafted you, And to the Fade you shall return Each night in dreams That you may always remember Me." — Threnodies 5:5

It's important to note that the Maker says to his second-born (the dwarves) that they shall return to the Fade each night in dreams. Remember: the dwarves were once able to dream. More than that, though, the Maker says that the dwarves may visit the Fade each night in dreams to be able to connect with the Maker. They were, in fact, crafted with the "flesh of the Fade," a reference made to lyrium.

That implies a direct connection between the titans and the Fade. It suggests that, once, the titans also shared the Fade with other living creatures—or, perhaps, even more. I still believe that the Fade is the collective consciousness of the titans, and that reconnecting with the Fade is part of reconnecting with the titans because of that fact.

The Dark and the Light, Sundered

In a previous post, I theorized that, because Solas created the Veil and it seemed to have sundered the titans in addition to separating the Fade from the waking world, the Fade must be the titans' shared consciousness. We know now that those were two separate acts: Solas sundered the titans and put part of their dreams into the orbs that became the Evanuris' foci. For a time, I thought that this theory must be wrong.

However, in the same series of memories, we learned one more fact: his ritual to create the Veil went wrong. In Memory #3 (Blackened Hearts), he cries out in pain during the moment the Veil is created. This not only hurt the world, but exhausted Solas. Hurt Solas.

"He broke the dreams to stop the old dreams from waking. The wolf chews its leg off to escape the trap." — Cole dialogue

This refers to the creation of the Veil. We know now that Solas created it, in part, to stop the blight from escaping—that would be the old dreams waking that Cole refers to. What's interesting is that Cole refers to this as Solas chewing off his own metaphorical leg to escape the trap. There was always a personal consequence for Solas referenced here.

But why? Why would being cut off from the Fade outside of dreams hurt him? Spirits exist on Thedas all the time. It is only the trauma of being pulled through the Veil against their will that turns them to demons.

To understand that, we must understand what the Fade even is. How it relates to the titans, and what that means going forward.

First, I want to take a look at this codex from Inquisition, which suggests that the water in the Abyss (the realm of the titans) may be the exact same thing as the emerald waters in the Fade.

It is possible—even likely—that the "emerald waters" Andraste refers to are the substance of the Fade, which began as an "ocean of dreams" (Threnodies 1:1) and was reduced to a well—bottomless but limited in scope—by the Maker's creation of our world. —Codex Entry: Here Lies the Abyss

There are other similarities between these two things that come up in Veilguard, if you're looking for them. The first, for me, is a codex.

What determines which sections of the physical world are echoed in the Fade? Is there an underlying logic, or glacial patterns past comprehension? Do our collective fears and longings craft what we see? The will of a mage is especially potent. We may learn to shape the Fade's pathways, if we are ever-mindful of the dangers this invites. — Codex entry: The Obverse of Reality

The phrasing here is very interesting. We know that Shaping is something that the titans once did. The dwarves, to this day, have the Shaperate, in charge of the Memories. To see that language applied to a mage's influence on the Fade implies that mages may exist the same power to manipulate the Fade as the titans did on the Stone, which suggests that the Fade and the Stone can be Shaped in the same ways. The similarity here does lend itself to a theory where the titans and the Fade are parts of the same being/collective.

The second is that one of the revenants—the Slaughtered Pillars, from Elvhenan's Haven—have a line of dialogue that jarred me the first time I heard it.

"Light and song, stolen."

We know that the titans being sundered took their songs away, for the dwarves (save for a few, now) do not hear the titans' songs anymore. It's the word light that gave me pause.

Three guesses as to where I looked for more instances of the word light. If you guessed the Chant of Light, the gigantic piece of lore with light in its title, you are correct!

The first mention I want to note is the very early in the Chant

Opposition in all things: For earth, sky For winter, summer For darkness, Light. — Threnodies 5:4

Note that Light is capitalized here, implying significance. Again, it appears here. Here, we're implying that capitalized Light refers directly to the Fade.

(11) Above them, a river of Light, Before them the throne of Heaven, waiting — Threnodies 8:11

And, lastly, and most prominently in Veilguard: the Lighthouse. Its name, in the elven language, is "Vhen'Theneras." Translated, though, that would mean, "core of dreams." Unless, of course, dreams and Light are the same thing.

But if the Light is indeed the Fade, and there must be opposition in all things according to the Maker, then where have we seen dark before?

We've seen it in the Abyss—aka, the Void. We've seen it in the darkspawn. Those blighted beings that emerge from the Deep Roads, aka the Abyss/Void. Remember that the blight itself is the escaped maddened dreams of the sundered titans. Darkspawn refers to the product of those escaped dreams—the ones not in the Fade/Light.

Crucially, the darkspawn behave in much the same way as anything connected to Isatunoll. They hear a Calling that, at first, belonged to the archdemons, but Antoine now says is coming from somewhere else, as well.

It's the description of Isatunoll that ties this all together for me: titans/their children and spirits, Abyss and Fade, dark and Light.

In a letter from Dagna to Harding, she describes Isatunoll — but in that description, she focuses on this idea that beings connected to a hivemind "know their purpose." Purpose is a word used by Solas all the time in DAI. Spirits have their own purpose.

Think about ants. Ants know what they are. They know their purpose, and they must understand, instinctually, how that purpose fits within the whole. But what if it doesn't end there? What if their consciousness isn't just individual? What if the nest itself knew what it was? A collective sentience of some kind. Nothing says the ants don't have a collective sentience. We just assume they don't, because they're ants. Ants. Or bees. Or darkspawn. Now, there's a thought. — Codex Entry: Thoughts on "Isatunoll"

What if consciousness itself is not individual? asks Dagna. What if the nest itself knew what it was? This explains the darkspawn, after all: the blighted beings who are all connected to the song of the Calling, and the maddened dreams the blight originates from.

The nest, except for that small trickle of escaped blight, is the Fade. The Fade, which is a place that responds to the collective wants and memories of those inside it. The Fade, whose pathways are shaped by the thoughts and wants of the people—especially mages—within it.

My theory is this: the creation of the Veil may have hurt Solas because Solas was still connected to his titan, and to Isatunoll. Some of his love of the Fade may be because he misses the titans' shared dreams—and, by extension, the shared dreams of every living person on Thedas (except the dwarves, and we know why that is).

Atonement Solas' Promise: He (Still) Seeks Regeneration

We know that the Fade is the collective consciousness of the Titans. Their shared dreams. We also know that not all titans are blighted, because the one in Descent is not. Harding's titan also is not, by the end of DA:tV. I posit that this is why much of the Fade, according to Solas in DAI, is far preferable to the Nightmare's domain that we get to see in DAI. Some of that shared consciousness is still healthy.

Easing the titans' anger, therefore, means fixing all of the Fade. Reconnecting the two might mean that the collective consciousness between all spirits could return to Thedas—and since at least elves' and dwarves' souls likely come from the same origin, it could do a lot to bring some of the people of Thedas together.

This, to me, is part of Solas' grand plan. It is not only to bring back the world from Mythal's time—it is to bring back the world before they broke so much of it, before the titans were sundered by his hand. After all: Solas seeks... regeneration. And that's something he promises us after Mythal leaves.

It's important to me, therefore, that Solas says the blight can feel his presence during the fighting in Minrathous. Not that Elgar'nan can detect Solas through the blight, but that the blight itself can feel him. Neve/Bellara, depending on who is taken, can reach out to protect Solas the very same way: by communing with the blight itself, feeling what it wants, and redirecting its course. We see, here, a hivemind in action.

We also know that Atoned!Solas promises to "soothe the titans' anger." This is something he promises to do from Fade Jail, implying that he is able to interact with the titans and their anger from the Black/Golden City. This implies that the Fade itself, as a realm, is a means of communing with the titans, not just a specific spot within it.

The Veil coming down was always going to un-sunder the titans, and that was always one of the true aims of Solas' goals. Even if it meant blighting the world at first and effectively causing the apocalypse, the titans would eventually feel soothed. The Veil is a wound inflicted on this world, Solas has said before... and we know now that it was.

This section, short as it is, is just me telling you that Solas is still able to achieve those ends from Fade Jail. Just because the Veil is now bound to Solas' life force does not mean that the titans can no longer heal.

This buys us valuable time, allowing the titans' anger to soothe before their consciousness is restored, so that the transition is gentler. It promises hope for all of Thedas going forward. It might even promise a healthier, more stable Fade, shaped by dream, idea, and hope more than fear.

But what will that mean for future games? What could the Fade have to do with what's to come?

Why is now the time that the Executors and "those across the sea" want to make their big planned move on Thedas? Why is now when the "poison fruit" has ripened?

Like many of you, I hope to figure it out—and I feel that every day, I get closer.

Stay tuned. :)

___

If you read this far, you're a hero, now and always.

Like I keep saying: I have to absorb this lore day by day! I cannot inhale the entire wiki in a day, much as I'd like to believe I could! That means that future posts can't adhere to a strict schedule, as they depend on me unearthing enough codices, notes, and connecting threads to provide a post's worth of material.

In future, I'm hoping to learn more about: the Forgotten and Forbidden ones, as well as the connections between them; the Executors, those across the sea, and the connections between THEM; the areas across the sea; the Devouring Storm and what it could mean for Thedas' existence... and maybe how Ghilan'nain was ever connected to any of it.

Stick with me on this journey, if you like. It's fun to keep theorycrafting and yelling with you all. <3

[lovewireds]

been meaning to post my designs for these little guys forever. insane splatoon rambling under cut to explain design choices and lore related things ... read my autism boy

btw this is a repost from our art side blog this was written and drawn like months ago <- minorly rewrote some things tho

thx splatoon users drfreeman & drcoolatta for fueling my splatvrai autism brainrot ... i hate u /J

GORDON

idk how to explain this but Theoretical Physicist is inkling coded . maybe its cuz splatoon species social hierarchy

Native ink color is Orange, but he has Dark Brown tentacle roots.

Uses custom weapons to attach in place of his prosthetic; It works best with Splatlings but can be adjusted to attach other weapons.

If the thing above didn't make it obvious, he's a Splatling main. He switches out depending on his mood though.

sighhhhh technically an Agent... stares at the ceiling...Main character...

His arm loss is like pretty much the same as in-canon but it's with the octarian army shrugs. don't ask me why he doesn't just regenerate it cuz hes a squid thats for me to know and you to find out. (get partially sanitized loser)

Born & Raised in Inkopolis pre-splashtags; He wasn't informed of the switch to Splashtags being expected when participating in most activities around Inkadia.

TOMMY

I forgot why i made him an inkling why did i do that. I think it was bc i didnt wanna make them all octolings but i was wrong srry we all make mistakes /hj I ALREADY REDREW HIM ONCE IM NTO DOING IT AGAINNN

Native ink color is orange-brown.

His hat has an eye guard for sensory reasons; He covers up as much of his skin as possible because he doesn't like the feeling of foreign ink on him.

He isn't a specific weapon main, he just uses any long-range weapon to minimize the possibility of getting ink on himself. If he has enough guarding, he prefers to use N-ZAP '89.

Makes his own gear for sensory reasons as well :) It's legal when ur dad's the G-Man.

Exclusively plays in Turf Wars, Anarchy Battles, etc with friends. He hates playing with people he doesn't know.

Born in Splatsville !! He feels like a Splatsville resident. His occupation is resident I cannot imagine him doing Anything

His dad is that creepy curtain in one of flounder heights windows /j

BENR(E)Y

Octoling bc I wanted him to be sanitized :) Other than the visual part of being sanitized, I thought him being clinically dead fits /hj also lore reasons below

Pre-sanitization, his native ink color was blue.

Great Turf War veteran; He didn't do anything in the war itself, he was just enlisted lol. He was primarily security for the Octarian Domes in the years after the war. Yes, that also means he is over 100 years old.

"Raised" (debatably) in Octo Canyon.

E-liter main (4-star Base + 5-star Scope) and avid squidbagger. He also uses any heavyweight weapons (dynamo, tenta, etc)

Absolutely hates working at Grizzco, he only does Turf Wars and Anarchy Battles. He only works at Grizzco during Big Runs. The type of guy that does X battles.

Professional Anarchy / Ranked / X Battler btw. That's literally 90% of what he does.

Got on Gordon's azz over him not having a Splashtag; i wonder what that parallels.

BUBBY

Genuinely don't have a lot to say about his design. He gives off Splatoon 2 Octoling vibes (showoff /hj) also i wanted to make his hair wispy like it should be.

Native ink color is a light blue-gray gradient.

The drawing doesn't give it credit but I swear those are glasses not goggles .. they're opaque-colored slanted oval glasses !! ^_^ u can interpret them as spiked or just eyelashes, both are right.

oh also the text under bubby says "Is Best" in some splatoon font we downloaded awhile ago . i think it was ripped from splatnet

Blaster main. I don't know how to explain this one but it feels right.

helps with the practical Map props (ie ink rails) and with some weapon gear manufacturing ^_^ tech guy

COOMER

Was going to make him an Octoling for the convenience of making his hair curly but i didn't want to make all of them octolings + i think his personality generally fits Inklings more.

Native ink color is an off white gradient.

Slosher main cuz he likes moving his arms. this makes sense to me. Also is a fan of Splatlings and other Shooters.

i felt ill trying to design coomer without making his eyes two lines with eyelids

War Veteran...Stole some octarian tech and got fucked up super limbs. Cyber Inkling stealing from octos !! [inkadia crowd goes wild] /j

anyways outside of the war™ he's a data researcher. just generally. he does shit with splatfests and eggstra work.

If you splashed him with ink he would stand unmoving. He would not shake it off.

DARNOLD

Ok i'll be honest the Octoling choice is primarily bc Octolings have the afro style & inklings have no textured hair styles (i didnt have the energy to design smth that could work) . His personality fits octoling too though :3

Native ink color is red-orange.

The fucked up guy that makes those drink effects people never use ( i use them ... )

He doesn't participate in Turf Wars or Anarchy Battles, but he works some gigs at Grizzco for extra cash every once in awhile !

the type of guy that goes after flyfish cuz no one else will . god bles !!!

not a lot to say about his design & his place in inkadia , it kinda speak for itself . he just wants to get by and make his drinks in peace . #autism ... he is pretty much exactly the same as his canon self

[sicksadgames]

As the Sun Forever Sets - Terror in the time of the Telegraph

It’s nuts I’ve been working on this game for over 4 years at this point. As the Sun Forever Sets is for sure my biggest and most capital G Game. It even has a publisher and everything. It’s also my first game! Wow! It's been tough, though. We'll get into it!

Britain, 1899

As the Sun Forever Sets is a survival horror sandbox based on the War of the Worlds, utilises the Forged in the Dark ruleset, and is about ordinary people surviving a Martian invasion of Victorian era Britain. We play to find out how they rise to meet the storm of destruction, the ways in which it shapes them, and if they survive to see a new world emerge, or die amidst the rubble of the old.

In the last years of Queen Victoria’s reign, the British Empire stretches across a quarter of the globe, and under the guise of genteel progress and civilisation, it commits theft and murder on a global scale. Britain itself is on the verge of the modern era, the Second Industrial Revolution pushing people into the cities to drive the factories and forges owned by the greedy industrialist class. But beyond the common causes of humanity and unbeknownst to the men who impose their rule over it, vast wheels have begun their inexorable turning. Across 40 million miles of void, the Martian invasion hurtles Earthward. Screaming across the stars, instruments of annihilation unlike anything believed possible lie ready for assembly, alongside the Martians themselves. They are truly inscrutable beings, but their intent is as clear as it is terrible – they will suck the literal and figurative blood from the Earth, and nothing less than the complete and utter subjugation of humanity will be enough.

If this sounds cool to you... well, you gotta wait, it’s not done yet. Sorry! But you can come and hang out in the Sick Sad Games discord, where I post excerpts and occasionally organise playtests.

The Hard Times of (Old) England

Be warned, this is a long one - over 4000 words (if you don't have a Tumblr account, you won't get to the end before it starts bugging you to register one, so go read this on Medium instead.) It turns out when you work on a game for a long time, you have a lot to say about it. Strap in, grab your gin and laudanum, and let’s destroy an evil empire just by existing.

Thanks to the wonderful @hendrik-ten-napel for taking a look over my disorganised thoughts.

(Potential) Spoilers for: The Bear, The War of the Worlds, The Last of Us, Children of Men, Threads, When the Wind Blows, Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs, The Thing.

Roleplay in the Pre-Post-Apocalypse

TTRPGs love a good post apocalypse. It's understandable - gas up and ride glorious on the legally distinct fury road, run a commune of like minded weirdos in the ashes of the old world, go digging through retro-futuristic ruins to find retro-futuristic treasures. Who wouldn't want to do any of these? But As the Sun Forever Sets is about an apocalypse as it begins, not after it’s over. 

There's a lot of crossover, of course. There’s a focus on similar things - disaster and spectacle, relationships and trust, scavenging and survival. But the bonus of the world not yet being over, is that we get to roleplay out dealing with that terrible, inexorable reality.

HG Wells wrote a book about blowing up all the places he used to live, and it's a banger. I was surprised to find there wasn't a TTRPG based on the War of the Worlds, being the tantalisingly public domain ur-alien invasion story it is. As the Sun Forever Sets is very explicitly an adaption of it, to the point that before I came up with the name it almost got released as The War of the Worlds: The Roleplaying Game (lol). I'm glad I didn't, doing my own thing has meant both me and the people playing are way more free to fuck around without the expectation that it must adhere to a canon.

The book is good, strikingly modern feeling in parts, and obviously massively influential - so much science fiction can be traced back to our nameless Narrators tormentuous trek across the south of England. But Wells’ prose is typical Victorian - overly wordy and florid (any book that contains the word “ejaculating” meaning “to shout” might be difficult for readers who aren’t used to the style), so when it comes to recommending an actual adaptation, there’s only one true king. Whenever I bring up Jeff Wayne’s The War of the Worlds, the usual reaction from anyone outside of the UK is to say "... they made a what?"

My mom was very keen to get me into musicals, but nothing really stuck until she tried this, the secret best War of the Worlds adaption (sorry Steven Spielberg, but you were doomed from the start.) It's the bombast and drama you'd expect from a disaster film, the horror and pathos of Wells’ classic, all expressed through vivid narration and sick nasty prog rock - wailing guitar and crunchy 70's synths operating at full effect. It's not completely faithful to the book, it doesn't matter. It’s the best.

Ah yes, the film bro's favourite mid 2000's film. Did you see that sick oner? That’s six minutes without a cut, that means the film’s good right? Children of Men is a slow burn apocalypse, dressed up like a world that’s already ended. Plenty has been written about all the little ways the film is prescient about the state of the UK - the slow belly-crawl into facism and nationalist fervour, the particularly British decay and class divide exacerbated by the desperate times, even the willful ignorance and the explicit sense that everyone’s just given up, it’s all here.

All that thematic stuff seems like it’d be really relevant to As the Sun Forever Sets, right?

Unfortunately, we are in fact here to talk about the long takes. The unbroken moment-to-moment action scenes evoke The War of the Worlds to a tee. Theo navigates danger with the same fraught tactical tension as War of the World's Narrator - dashing between doorways, groping for an axe handle in the darkness, desperately trying to start a car as assailants sprint towards him. What’s the best way out of this situation? How do I get from here to where I need to be? He lives his life in rolling, fleeting 5 second intervals, because he’s forgotten what it means to think in the long term - about the future, and what it might hold.

I was always fascinated and terrified by the idea of nuclear war. I guess it comes from watching a lot of 90’s disaster movies, but those are often ultimately fun romps where the day gets saved at the end, or at least the main characters find themselves alive and well at the end of the saga of destruction. Instead, As the Sun Forever Sets asks you to reflect on the horror and sadness present at the end of the world. Things are going to change forever, and change is always hard.

There’s not many clips of Threads and When the Wind Blows online, so it’s a little hard to demonstrate their particular nuclear inflected pitch black darkness. They’re grim - Grave of the Fireflies grim - differing in focus but united in their horrible impact.

When the Wind Blows is a story of an elderly couple living in rural England when the bombs drop, based on the comic by Raymond Briggs. Yes, The Snowman’s Raymond Briggs made a film about 2 lovely grandparents dying of acute radiation poisoning. Jim and Hilda are completely unprepared for what’s to come, their only reference is the Blitz - terrible in its own way, but not a patch on the scale of death they’re about to experience.

They survive the blast and wait for the good old British Government to arrive to save them, as it did in the 40’s. Slowly liquifying in the nuclear fallout, they hold onto each other and keep their spirits up, eventually making the decision to clamber into the paper sacks they mistakenly believed might protect them from the blast. Clutching their medical cards and birth certificates (for the ambulance, sure to be along any minute now), Jim mumbles painfully through a final prayer that morphs into a misremembered Charge of the Light Brigade, and they slip into a perpetual slumber together.

The most tragic part is Jim and Hilda’s unshakeable faith that their government is there for them - ready to catch them when they fall - borne out of Britain’s post WW2 renewal but absent in the 1980’s of the film’s plot, and the Britain of today. It’s a masterful film, shockingly sad, but the shock is the point.

Instead of aiming for your heart, Threads aims for the head. It’s a drama that aims to be as accurate as possible to government research into what a nuclear war might look like, plainly and forensically setting it out without any thought of softening these hard facts for its audience. Rather than focusing on a personal story, Threads flits around several groups of characters - minor government figures and ordinary families. Like Jim and Hilda, they too are woefully unprepared for the end of the world, and those in charge know there’s no way the UK could ever be ready for such a thing.

As mundane life is quietly intruded upon by news updates detailing far off geopolitics and the subsequent escalation that leads to war, the tension rises subtly then suddenly, like a spacecraft on the launchpad. People we’ve seen pottering about their normal lives are maimed and evaporated in the subsequent shocking nuclear exchange, whilst stark statistics flash on the screen - the hundreds of thousands instantly killed, how long the millions more fatally irradiated have left to live, the woefully inadequate tonnage of stockpiled food to feed those who survive. Each zero hits like a gutpunch.

And when you think the film must nearly be over, it keeps going. 1 week later. 1 year later. Threads grinds to an excruciating halt 13 years after the bombs fall, after year upon year of failed harvests from a destroyed earth barely able to support a population level equivalent to medieval Britain. At one point, mute children watch a warped and scratchy VHS of classic kids educational programme Words and Pictures on a TV powered by a steam generator.

The friendly presenter spells out the word “cat” through the thick veil of static, accompanied by a picture of one - an animal the children watching will likely never see. As they watch with blank, emotionless faces, the image of the cat fades to one of its skeletal form. “A cat’s skeleton” the presenter enthusiastically intones. The unrelenting bleakness might feel like a punishment, but Threads doesn’t mean it to be. This is just what would happen, after all.

Love in the time of the Heat-ray

In fact, someone in a Reddit thread said As the Sun Forever Sets “wasn’t just endless misery” and I’m glad that comes across. I wanted there to be moments of tenderness, quiet joy, anger, frustration, love and loss to punctuate the action and the horror.

People are messy and complicated even at the best of times. Under pressure, this is amplified a thousandfold - a little crush becomes a whirlwind romance, small disagreements become full blown fights, and not fully understanding someone might transform them into an enemy in your head.

The little town Bill conspires to be left alone in ends up comparatively untouched by the horrors going on elsewhere, as untouched as anywhere can be in The Last of Us. He hated the world anyways - so he isolates himself as he prepares for it to end, and it makes sense that his life only really begins as the show does. When Frank arrives, Bill is forced not to just engage with the broader world outside of his little enclave, but in the act of truly living in it.

There’s no prepper’s guide to romance. A human heart can’t be field stripped for maintenance. By choosing to exist as a vulnerable, emotional being, Bill opens himself up to a different kind of apocalypse. Frank becomes the flowering vines that slowly crack the flat concrete wall of a world that Bill created, and when those vines die, the wall can only crumble. It’s so fraught and lovely, delicately yet absolutely gut wrenching. At least their apocalypse was one they decided to have together.

“I’m old. I’m satisfied. And you… were my purpose.” - "Long Long Time”, The Last of Us

While several of my TTRPG writing friends were gushing about how great The Bear is, Em Acosta, author of the wonderfully inspirational Exile pointed out something super interesting - a lot of the show is about how you deal with people you’ve found yourself stuck with. No matter how much they piss you off, or whatever they do wrong, there’s something that means you can’t ever let them truly exit your life. They’re there, like it or not, until the bitter end.

Turns out this is very similar to how As the Sun Forever Sets handles Player Character relationships. In both it and The Bear, nothing’s ever truly resolved between characters - every relationship is like a cooking pot perpetually simmering. You might’ve apologised, made a truce, or just ignored your issues for so long that they seem to disappear, but no matter what, you’ve got to keep your eye on that pot.

Because suddenly a crisis will hit, and someone says something, or a diceroll comes up bad and all of a sudden the pot boils over and things are once again fucked. You storm out, start screaming, throw a fork. Even in the worst case scenario where a Character leaves because they’re absolutely sick of the rest of the group, they might show up at the end of the game for one last scene. Who knows how you’ll all feel at the end - nothing is ever truly fixed, and only the dead are truly broken. 

“I quit, chef, is what’s going on. You are an excellent chef. You are also a piece of shit. This isn’t on me. Goodbye." - “The Review”, The Bear

I’ve talked about The Thing a little before, John Carpenters sweaty, paranoid antarctic masterpiece. Along with the incredible effects and the (mostly) restrained use of action and bombast, the thing that makes... The Thing work is that the staff of the stricken research base lack any and all emotional intelligence.

It’s sort of the ultimate reverse Dudes Rock movie. Nobody knows anything about each other, so when their bodies and minds are colonised by the titular chameleon from outer space, they’re just another stranger to the rest of the crew. I’d ask you a question only you would know the answer to, but uh.. I don’t know anything about you. Whoops!

Over the course of the film, the whole operation falls apart as they try their best to work together to deal with the alien interloper, but their complete lack of ability to trust or relate to each other - present even before the crisis they find themselves in - is their ultimate downfall.

That final excellent shot of MacReady and Childs sat in the snow at the end of the film as their compound burns around them is the subject of a lot of unnecessary theorycrafting youtube videos, which kind of misses the point. Each suspects the other, but ultimately it doesn’t matter if one of them’s a Thing. One stranger is the same as another. Why bother getting to know each other now?

“Well...What do we do?” “Why don't we just... wait here for a little while? See what happens.” - Childs and Macready, The Thing

Science Fiction Revenge Fantasy

I’m not a historian, but the parallels between 1899 and now are pretty plain to see. Increasing class disparity, a lack of political will to help those in need, rampant cronyism and profiteering. As long as you’re in the place for it, roleplaying in a fictionalised version of the past to air out the issues of the present can be super fun and cathartic. You’re not expected to get a degree in British history to make it work, either.

The title is a play on the phrase “The Sun Never Set on the British Empire”, and it’s plainly stated in the book that Britains Empire acted as a mechanism of genocidal oppression, and that the Martians are here to end it - intentionally or not. It’s appealing as a premise on the face of it, but it goes a little deeper. Memories of Empire echo across time in Britain like the ringing of a malevolent bell, a cause celebre for braying Tories and fascistic right wing cunts (two very close circles in the venn diagram.)

We used to be a great country before this woke nonsense. Things were better back in the old days. The DEI contingent is trying to destroy our noble past. Yada yada yada, fuck offff. I’m sure someone somewhere will accuse me of “wokewashing” the past for including explicitly trans and queer characters as part of the book, along with the historical facts around how we fit into the oppressive Victorian conception of sex and gender. Unfortunately for them, we’ve always been here.

To be a little pretentious about it, every game of As the Sun Forever Sets reaches back into the past and cuts the myth of a glorious and benevolent Empire, and the good old days enjoyed within it off at the neck, purely in the act of beginning one. That sparks a little joy for me. Destroying a racists dream is fun, even if it’s only in the abstract.

A horror game about the most literalist Victorian industrialist imaginable hearing the phrase “Eat the rich” and getting right on that. I’ve not played Amnesia: A Machine for Pigs despite fond (??) memories of playing The Dark Descent in a room full of jumpy friends, and seeing Dear Esther played live on stage, with a live orchestra and narrator - an exquisite way to experience that game.

The mechanical chops of Frictional Games mixed with the narrative verve of The Chinese Room, how could this game be anything less than incredible?

After The Dark Descent I fell off’ve the “scary guy chases you around” genre of game until Alien: Isolation revitalised it, and the reviews of A Machine for Pigs were mixed - kind of boring, middling gameplay, too dark - so I never went back. I was planning on writing a little about its vibe - dark, gothic Victoriana that rhymes nicely with As the Sun Forever Sets - but after a bit of research, Mandus’ quest for his missing sons strikes an unexpectedly resonant and terrible chord.

The writing and voice acting is phenomenal, Mandus’ split consciousness - the self you play and the other half of him that’s seen the horrors of the forthcoming 20th Century and is compelled to act, imbued into the myopic machine he built - is extremely compelling. He feels compassion for the poor and wants to save them, but they fill him with fear and disgust. He knows the industrialist class is killing the world, but feels a deep shame in the fact that he counts himself amongst them. So his machine grinds the rich into meat for the poor, who it distorts into grotesque pig homunculi and forces them to operate the machine’s inscrutable workings.

It’s Mandus’ twisted way of saving the world - kill the rich for their crimes, enslave the poor for their own good, all hail the new machine/god/manager of the 20th century. It’s a neat reflection of the way modern politicians contort themselves to the whims of big business and AI snake oil salesmen to avoid doing the simple and obvious things that’d better the world. It’s a nightmarish refutation of Victorian Liberalism, that only the upper class know how to fix the problems of the lower class. It’s brilliant, and we should play it. 

"Do you hear me Mandus? This is what you planned! This world is a machine! A Machine for Pigs! Fit only for the slaughtering of pigs! Whores, beggars, orphans, filthy degenerates. Pigs all. But I will purify the streets, cleanse this city, set the great industry free. I will clean the world, make it pure." - The Machine, A Machine for Pigs

Song of the Year, of the Century

Not long after I came out as trans, I was asked what (in an ideal world) would make transition easier. I replied - never having to leave the house. One day I'd shut the front door as a man and another day, months or years later, I'd open it again as a woman, neatly sidestepping the terror of being perceived in a notoriously transphobic Britain.

In 2020 I shut that door and didn't open it for 4 months. At work, I remember calling the nearby shelter to donate our excess hand sanitizer and toilet roll, figuring out at the last second how support workers could take calls from their already isolated clients via their mobile phones, and fixating on the steady stream of scared coworkers leaving early. Tearfully, I felt the urge to hug those that remained as we locked up, before we remembered we probably shouldn't.

I've never been more aware of the minutia of moving through a space on the way home - How many people had their hands on this handrail? Have I touched my mouth or eyes without realising? Is anyone in the office already sick? Or on this train? How many more people are going to die? - My heart was in my chest, I heard the blood whoosh through my head to the beat of my steps on the pavement. At home, I realised my boyfriend had to go into work the next day. After he went to sleep, terrified he might die, I cried.

"I remember I felt an extraordinary persuasion that I was being played with, that presently, when I was upon the very verge of safety, this mysterious death—as swift as the passage of light—would leap after me from the pit about the cylinder, and strike me down." - "The Heat Ray", The War of the Worlds

Writing As the Sun Forever Sets was my way of coping with the disconnect with the world I felt, the fear of both Covid and the rising transphobia kept me inside even as the lockdowns eased. That feeling of throbbing death creeping at the window took a long time to wrestle under control, and getting deeply obsessed with a big project became part of that process. It seems incredibly maudlin to make a TTRPG dealing with darkness and death during a pandemic that killed (and continues to kill) millions of people, but I suppose I’m kind of a maudlin person.

“I haven't written a song in a month, So I'm playing the same chords again. I know I need to get lost in the moment, But I get lost before it begins. Fingers stretching out into space. Reaching as a thought slips away.”

It also burnt me the fuck out. After years of constant work and testing (beginning long before Evil Hat picked up the game), I ran out of steam. I spent the months after Evil Hat’s public playtest ended not really able to write anything ATSFS related at all. The game kind of froze - I knew what I wanted to change or fix or add, but the moment the google doc opened I couldn’t make myself start typing. It was incredibly frustrating to have the switch flip from endless obsessive writing to constant nothing, and I don’t think I truly recognised the burnout I was feeling until recently. It turns out spending years staying up past midnight writing is bad, who know!

A lot of Forged in the Dark games don’t get finished (or more accurately, get stuck in perpetual development), something that the excellent and dearly missed +1 Forward podcast recognised in their episode collecting their thoughts on the FITD games they looked at back in 2021. I think that’s because, at least to me, writing a Forged in the Dark game is like trying to hold a plate of spaghetti without the plate. It’s deceptively simple at its heart, but the system squirms when you poke at it - write one thing and it affects 3 other things. Tug one piece of pasta out and you lose a meatball without realising it.

When I listened to that episode, I took it as a challenge. Part of me now wonders if it was a curse. I'm being hyperbolic, of course. But a little part of me did think it might be better to give the game up.

That’s not going to be As the Sun Forever Sets' fate, thankfully. Evil Hat has been there to support me when I’ve felt guilty about shifting another deadline or replying to a check-in email with another late “Not much progress this month, sorry!” The frozen writers block is thawing, and I’m so tantalisingly close to finishing the final text. This blog is part of that process, another chip in the icy dam.

The wheels of dread Martian terror turn once again, and it feels good. Part of that is down to not beating myself up about a lack of progress. The more important part came when I realised I felt able to return to the world again - living in it, not hiding from it. Staying connected to it, even when there's times I'm not able to inhabit it physically. Covid, Britains particular brand of transphobic brainworms, and the shadow of Empire all continue to exist, and so do I - a weird maudlin transsexual woman - in spite of them all.

“The day seemed, by contrast with my recent confinement, dazzlingly bright, the sky a glowing blue. A gentle breeze kept the red weed that covered every scrap of unoccupied ground gently swaying. And oh! the sweetness of the air!” - “The Stillness”, The War of the Worlds

You made it!

Thanks for sticking with my messy thoughts. If what I talked about here sounds cool to you, please stop by the Discord, we'd love to have you. Look forward to seeing As the Sun Forever Sets come to a crowdfunding platform of Evil Hat's choice (I assume backerkit) at some point in the future ♥.

[pixel-percy]

🎬 Newly divorced actor, Cooper Howard, finds comfort in his personal assistant when he needs it the most. 🎬

🎬 Word Count: 19.6k 🎬 Music Vibes: West Coast Love by Emotional Oranges 🎬 Warning(s): Smut (piv/unprotected, brief mention of others), very light exhibitionism, make-outs/heavy petting, semi-canon universe, post-divorce drama (+ the angst that comes with it), brief alcoholism, accusations of infidelity, age gap (consensual, reader mid-20s), workplace power imbalance (consensual), & brief mention of blood 🎬 A/N: Holy shit. I did it. This is the longest fic I've ever written & it's complete! Pretty sure I started this back in June or July & have been working on it on & off ever since. I'm dropping this with a light proof read so if you spot any mistakes, no you don't lol May also add to the warnings if I feel like I missed any, but, yeah. I had such a blast writing for pre-Ghoul Cooper so I hope you enjoy it as much as I do <3

The moment you stepped into Cooper’s house, the scent of cigarettes washed over you and the steady sound of idle chatter filled your ears. Most of the attendees ignored you in favor of rubbing elbows with potential business partners and movie deals and, those who did recognize you, greeted you with warm smiles and sometimes exuberant shouts of your name. You did your best to return each greeting—a cheek kiss here, a handshake there, a narrow dodge of an errant hand guided by booze—and maneuvered through the crowd expertly. You hadn’t spotted him yet.

A hand on your elbow called your attention toward the feeling and you managed to catch a glimpse of Sebastian Leslie, one of Cooper’s close friends, as he leaned close to your ear. You smiled, mostly for the attendees, and leaned into him a bit, hand against his forearm. Curious eyes passed over you both momentarily but moved on just as quickly when they realized who you two were.

“He gave her the divorce papers before the party,” he whispered loud enough for you only to hear. “It’s been an hour and he hasn’t shown his face once.”

Your smile hadn’t faltered for a moment, adjusting his ascot and squeezing his upper arm reassuringly.

“I got it,” you said and turned away from Sebastian. Truthfully, you didn’t know if you did have it, this entire thing with Barb had him acting distant and slightly cold to everyone that wasn’t Janey.

You’d done your best to just stay out of his way, handled anything that was asked of you without much complaint, and generally just tried to make his life easier while he navigated the treacherous terrain that had become his home life. Which is what made this all the more difficult—the Vault-Tec deal, his new movie, and the party at hand at the result of them both. Hollywood stars and scientists mingled all in the same space awaiting the man of the hour… unaware of what was happening behind closed doors. But that was a problem for tomorrow you and tomorrow Cooper.

“Nice dress, by the way,” Sebastian commented. It was, in fact, the nicest thing you currently owned, even if it had been the very thing you wore under your college graduation gown a few years prior. White and gold, with swirls and florals, no sleeves, a modest front, and a deep v in the back that stopped at a bow. The skirt was asymmetrical, showing off your legs and a pair of cute heels you saved for parties like this. You were a P.A not a starlet after all. You did a little twirl for Sebastian which earned some laughter from you both before you left him completely.

The greetings continued on your path toward the stairs that you knew would lead up to his bedroom, the most likely place he’d be holed up in. Glasses clinked and boisterous laughter carried over the soft music, while you made your way up to the second floor where the partygoers hadn’t dared tread. The sounds of the party muffled with every step into the dimly lit hallway, framed movie posters lining the walls toward the door at the end of the path, ajar enough to let a sliver of light pour out. You reached out your hand to rap lightly on the wood.

“Mr. Howard?” you tried. A small, familiar woof hit your ears and soon you spotted a curious nose, sniffs loud, and tail wagging furiously. “Hey, Roosevelt,” you said affectionately, the door opening naturally as you offered him pets. “Where’s your dad at huh?” Roosevelt pulled away and went back into the room as if requesting you to follow. You did so cautiously, not wanting to intrude if Cooper wasn’t decent, and closed the door behind you. “Mr. Howard?” you called again.

“In here!” he finally answered back.

You moved further into the space until you spotted him in front of the large mirror beside his bed, a deep blue shimmery tie dangling from his neck and a yellow one with polka dots that he was holding up for comparison in one of his free hands. He sighed.

“So you’ve been stuck in here for an hour picking a tie?” you asked lightly, a soft smile on your lips. He spotted you in the mirror and gave a halfhearted chuckle.

“I guess so,” he said. You could tell he was deflated, and rightfully so. The blue of his attire was so deep it was almost black—on brand as always but subtle enough to feel like he was mourning something. Appropriate but in combination with his tone, it made you feel sad. He wasn’t just your boss for the last couple of years, he was your friend, and you cared about him, about his family. It hurt you to see them being torn apart like this but you knew it had to be for a reason… a world-shattering one to bring divorce into it.

You stepped a bit closer, smile and tone still soft.

“May I, Mr. Howard?” you asked and held out a hand. Cooper turned to you with heavy eyes, lingering on your face in a way that made you want to pull him into a tight hug, but you resisted. He held out the tie for you to take and you did so, approaching him and laying the fabric gently against his shoulder to compare. You could feel his eyes on your face as you contemplated between the two items that had supposedly kept him in his bedroom this long.

“Be honest with me…” he whispered. “Did I royally fuck this all up?” Your eyes tilted up to his, a tight-lipped smile growing as you considered him. It was a vulnerable question. He was hurting, you could see it in the way he held himself, the slouched shoulders, semi-puffy eyelids, and the tone of his words. Meaningful conversations were not uncommon for the two of you, especially when he felt out of his depth about something or needed reassurance, but you hadn’t expected him to even mention the divorce to you right now.

“I think…” you started, cautious again. “You love Janey and Barb, so so much.” Your fingers wrapped around the tie that’d been hanging loosely around his neck so you could gently remove it. His eyes flicked to your movements briefly before returning to your face. You tossed the pieces of fabric onto the dresser. “And if whatever made you feel like this was the right course of action… Well…” You adjusted the collar of his shirt—the top two buttons were undone already in that casual style he liked—and brushed the shoulders of his deep blue, velvety blazer. You looked him directly in the eye. “I think you should trust your gut.”

Cooper returned the gaze. He nodded slowly, your words absorbed like water in limestone. You stepped back and removed your hands from his shoulders, but stopped when you felt his fingers wrap around your wrist, just enough pressure to keep you from turning away. He gave you the biggest smile he could muster and put both his hands over yours.

“Thank you,” he said. “Thank you for being here. For everythin’ lately.”

“Of course,” you replied and squeezed his hands back with yours. It felt like he was tethering himself back to reality in a way, the veil of his pain and heartache lifting enough for him to feel a little closer to normal. Only a little though. “You sure you want to go out there? I can tell ‘em all to scram if you really want me to,” you offered, tone playful though you fully meant it. That earned an amused huff out of him and he released you, the warmth from his palms lingering on your skin.

“Nah, s’alright,” he said. You reached for the whiskey glass on the dresser that he looked to have been sipping from before you arrived; it was just under halfway full. The ice clinked against the sides of the glass as you handed it to him.

“I guess you’d better get out there, Mr. Howard.”

“It’d seem so,” he said, taking the glass from you. You watched him close his eyes and inhale deeply, finding his center again. Roosevelt whined softly from his dog bed. “Alright,” he muttered a little reluctantly. Cooper took a couple steps past you and you were content to follow behind him had he not stopped, your name leaving his lips as a question.

“Yes?”

“Just…” He nibbled at the inside of his lip and offered you his elbow. “Just Cooper tonight, alright? I need somebody to treat me like a normal person.”

“Sure thing, Cooper,” you said with a smile, taking the offer and giving him a reassuring squeeze.

“Thank you.” Cooper shifted his shoulders beside you, no doubt holding all of his tension there, and you made a mental note to schedule a spa day for him. You both walked toward the door. “You look lovely by the way, m’sure Sebastian was makin’ eyes at you.”

“Sebastian Leslie can keep his eyeballs to himself,” you said with a roll of your eyes and a smile. “I’m not interested.”

“Look at you, breakin’ the hearts of Hollywood’s most eligibles,” he said. You dug your elbow playfully into his side. “Come on, back to the wolves we go.”

“Last chance. I can still run ‘em off,” you said.

“You’re a terrifyin’ lil’ force of nature, but, unfortunately, these investors' pocketbooks are what’s gonna keep the lights on.”

“Then let’s put that movie star charm to good use,” you said.

“You think I’m charmin’? Psh. I remember distinctly hearin’ you call me a pain in the ass on set the other day,” he joked, sipping his whiskey.

“That’s because you were being a pain in the ass,” you responded coolly.

“Yeah… Yeah, I was,” he laughed—a genuine sound you were happy to hear given the circumstances—as the two of you left the room and traversed the hallway decorated in Cooper’s accolades back toward the bustling party.

Months had passed since the night of the party, tension inevitably brewing between Cooper and Barb every time he’d double or triple down on the divorce. You’d stayed out of their way, performing the necessary functions asked of you like you had already started to do, and offered an ear when asked of you. Barb never did though. In fact, it felt like she avoided you completely, probably because you were essentially an extension of Cooper by job, even when you did your best to show you held no animosity toward her.

You still didn’t know why Cooper even wanted the divorce. It wouldn’t have been fair to him, her, or Janey if you treated her differently. So you stayed quiet and offered pleasantries she often barely acknowledged. The day the divorce was finalized you had been waiting outside of the courthouse for Cooper, an unpleasant backdrop of paparazzi waiting for them to depart so they could prey on their misery.

Barb was the first to exit, sunglasses covering her eyes, but they didn’t block the passing look she gave you that felt like you had been stabbed in the chest. You’d learned that you were just another ‘casualty’ of the divorce, because not only would Cooper have gotten you regardless, but he also got primary custody of Janey too. So she was probably pissed. Even Cooper didn’t offer much, understandably so, requesting to be taken home immediately and to be left alone for the rest of the day.

All you could do was frown and try not to take it personally… but it was certainly hard not to at times.

Now, you felt your nerves ignite as you turned the engine of the car off in front of Barb’s new house. It was a deep feeling in your chest but one you couldn’t let get the better of you. So, you climbed out of your car, went around the other side, and opened up the back door for Janey whose expression had been sunken every day since the divorce.

You did your best to give her some normalcy when you could, to ease just how bad the divide between Cooper and Barb actually was, but no amount of ice cream, roller rinks, and other well-intentioned distractions could do that. Especially when her parents had both dived deeply into their work as their way to escape the pain.

“You want me to carry your backpack?” you asked, watching as the young girl fidgeted with her fingers.

“I don’t wanna go with, Mommy,” she muttered, practically a whisper. Your expression shifted into a frown but you expected this to happen at some point. Using the door to keep your balance in your heels—opting for a more casual pencil skirt and button-up combo today—you squatted beside her.

“Why not?” you asked. She shifted again, hesitating.

“I dunno, she’s just, never really home so I have to stay with Miss Leah most of the time.”

“But Miss Leah is nice though, isn’t she?”

“I guess,” she said. “But… But I have more fun with you and Daddy.” Your heart dropped a little. “Miss Leah doesn’t take me to the roller rink like you do.”

“It’s not a competition hun,” you said softly, which only made her frown. You held out your hands, palm up, and waited. Despite not being a child of divorce, you’d seen the repercussions of it in your friends growing up, and you could certainly empathize with her. After a few moments, she placed her hands into yours and you gave her a comforting squeeze, a tight-lipped smile on your lips. “Your parents are trying their best. I know that’s not what you want to hear right now, but I promise you it’s true.”

“Why did they get divorced?” she asked, small tears building in her eyes. This wasn’t a conversation you’d expected to have right now but, honestly, you couldn’t blame her… Your hands squeezed hers again.

“Unfortunately, I can’t answer that for them,” you said.

Janey’s mouth opened to say something else but her eyes flicked behind you and it closed immediately. You had a feeling you knew why so you gave her shoulder a little rub before standing, guess confirmed by the sound of a pair of heels behind you.

Barb, who’d left her porch to make her way down the walkway toward you both, eyes on her daughter.

“Janey, baby,” she said, arms open and waiting. Janey’s eyes flicked to you for the briefest moment as she hopped out of the car and embraced her mother. 

“Hi, Mommy,” she responded.

You closed the door behind her, a little terrified to face Barb fully just from the general feelings you were getting, but you did so with hands on your hips and a smile.

“Hello,” you said. Her gaze turned to you, your name leaving her mouth in such a way that you could feel your nerves surge for a moment and a knot twist in your stomach. You cleared your throat. “Uh, Cooper said he’s going to pick her up next Sunday once his shoots are done—”

“Cooper?” she asked, smile twisting in a way that felt dangerous. You furrowed your eyebrows in slight confusion. “No more ‘Mister Howard’?... Interesting.”

Oh.

Oh no.

“Barb,” you tried, cautiously casual as you tried to deflect whatever she was trying to say.

“You can tell, Cooper,” she said and you took a deep breath. “We agreed on Friday.” Janey looked between you two. Your heart pounded. Nothing had happened between you two, where was this coming from? You’d never even entertained the idea of something like that nor had Cooper ever tried. He was your boss, this was his family, and your function was to make their lives as easy as you could.

“Yes, but he’ll be on set every day and I have to be there too, so he was hoping—”

Barb held up her hand. Your jaw clenched.

“Next time he needs to change his mind about our agreed schedule, he can call me himself instead of sending you.”

“He tried, but you didn’t pick up,” you said. Janey looked up to her mother before leaving her grip and making her way inside. Barb’s gaze followed her until she heard the door close and then turned back to you. Before she could say anything else, it was you who held up a hand. “I have nothing but respect for you, Barb. I always have. I’m just trying to help.”

“I’m sure you are,” Barb said, venom in her tone.

“Barb, please—”

“Just let him know I’ll figure it out. I always do,” she said and promptly turned away. You didn’t say anything in return, simply watched her disappear into the house, and you took a long, steadying breath. Your hands were shaking still when you climbed back into the driver’s seat.

The set was abuzz when you arrived, a stack of papers—a new version of the film’s script for Cooper to review—in the crook of one of your arms and a black coffee in your opposite hand. You weaved through all the busy bees, giving a few friendly nods, and headed directly for the trailers.

It was just before midday when you arrived on the lot, less shaken than your initial drive over from Barb’s, but still haunted by her words and expressions. You were completely innocent, never sparing a glance in Cooper’s direction in a way less than professional. He was never uncouth and never made an errant comment in your direction, his eyes were always on Barb. It wounded some part of you to know she thought you would do that to her.

Cooper Howard was your boss. That was that.

Your knuckles rapped at the door, the contents of the cup sloshing.

“Mr. Howard?” you tried over the sounds of all the bustling workers. Your knuckles hit the door again, this time so hard the coffee slipped out of the lid and almost threatened to stain the script gripped opposite of it. “Cooper?”

Still nothing.

An impatient sigh left you and, instead of waiting for his reply, you expertly utilized your fingers to open the door and stepped inside. The trailer was cool enough to combat the heat outside, a welcome reprieve, and it didn’t take you long to find Cooper. Your jaw clenched.

He was sprawled out on the dark leather couch, head propped up on the arm, and half-dressed in his costume for the movie. The spurs of the boot he had up on the other arm dug into the material, pants on with the top button popped, and his shirt completely undone which exposed his chest. It was like he’d made an attempt to get ready but never finished. His signature white cowboy hat was tilted down over his eyes.

“Cooper,” you said, trying to be firm enough to get his attention. His chest moved steadily up and down and when you took a step toward him, the distinct smell of whiskey hit your nose. Then you spotted it, a glass on the floor with his fingers loosely around the edges as though forgotten in his slumber. A tinge of frustration rippled through you and if you were honest with yourself, some disappointment, and it took all of your willpower and respect for Cooper not to just rip him off the couch and onto the floor. “Cooper.” Your voice was louder, tone much firmer, as you gave the boot dangling to the floor a nice kick.

“What the hell—” Cooper’s words slurred a little as he fixed his hat. “Oh, hey sweetheart.” The nickname fell on unappreciative ears and tumbled into the tension building in the space.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you said, irritation rising in your chest. “Are you drunk right now? When you’re supposed to be on set in 45 minutes?”

“Just had a coupl’a sips of whiskey s’all,” he responded, accent thicker than usual and riddled with sleep. With a controlled but frustrated sigh, you slapped the script onto the nearest surface—a little more gentle with the coffee—and stood next to the couch with your hands on your hips.

“Just a coupl’a sips,” you mocked. Cooper peaked out from under his hat.

“Hey, now, that ain’t nice,” he said as he pointed one of his index fingers at you. You moved the whiskey glass next to the coffee.

“Nice?” You gave an indignant huff, reaching down to grab onto his forearm. “You’re making my job a lot harder than it should be right now.” Cooper’s head lolled lazily, just like the rest of him, but he made what appeared to be an effort when you pulled him off the couch and to his feet. He wobbled, chest hairs tickling your hand as you tried to steady him. “I don’t have to be nice. I have to get you out on that soundstage.”

Cooper chuckled, the smell of liquor wafting over your nostrils, and said, “There she is. My own personal force’a nature.”

You looked up at his face finally, intending to show him just how much destruction you wanted to cause, and felt something unfamiliar pang throughout your body. It sat uncomfortably in your chest.

“Could topple’a building with that damn look,” he muttered.

Your heart thundered in your chest. This was the closest you’d ever been to Cooper for more than the few seconds a hug required—and you were hyper-aware of your hand still on his chest. You didn’t know what to do. You’d never seen him drunk like this, messy, let alone on set. He was always so professional, polite, and just generally kind to most people. You could almost always count on him to be in his right mind.

You pulled your hand away from him, only to feel him place his own over yours to keep it against his chest. Your entire body tensed.

“Cooper,” you warned, eyes holding his. The rich green-brown of his were muted by the shadow of his hat and minimal light in the trailer, but nothing could hide the way they searched your entire face and lingered on your lips. “You’re drunk.”

“Only a couple’a sips—”

“Your demeanor would beg to differ—”

“What’s it to ya, huh? Why do’ya care if I am?” he asked, drunken defensiveness in his tone. That struck you in a way that snapped you out of the haze you were teetering on the edge of. You pulled your hand away from him and took a full step back. A long breath released from your lungs, nostrils flaring. “Cooper Howard needs to be the prize fuckin’ horse all the time, huh?”

“Sugarfoot is the prize horse,” you responded in the same dry tone you’d provided Barb earlier in the day. Cooper swayed in place and chewed on the inner part of his lip while he considered you. Your dismissal wasn’t meant to be hurtful but you’d dealt with enough of the shockwaves of this divorce for one day. 

“Then make the horse say the fuckin’ lines.”

“Maybe we should if you’re going to be drunk in your trailer—” You checked your watch, a gift for your first anniversary of working for him. “—Now 30 minutes before your call time.” Cooper sucked his teeth in response. “What happened to make you do this? Was it the director? Vault-Tec?... Barb?”

“Watch it now,” Cooper warned as he pointed at you again and took a step closer. You stood your ground.

“Or what, Mr. Howard?” you asked with a bit more venom, your frustration starting to boil over. “You're gonna fire the only person aside from your daughter who’s been truly looking out for you? Especially since the divorce?” Your hand moved, smacking his index finger away from you. His expression shifted momentarily, taken aback by the gesture. “I’ve already had to dodge Janey’s unanswerable questions about her parents and deal with Barb’s accusations today. So if you want to make an ass out of yourself on set, you sure as shit can do it on your own.”

You turned to leave. Cooper said your name and reached for you.

“No,” you said sternly with a face contorted in anger. “Sort your shit out and maybe I’ll see you on set tomorrow.” You opened the door but stopped just at the bottom of the steps when you heard your name again, turning ever so slightly to look at him. Cooper’s expression had shifted into one that was difficult to parse. A mixture of sadness and anger if you had to guess.

“Please… Don’t go,” he pleaded. The words hit you in the chest, posture straightening reflexively, and a frown on your lips as you shook your head.

“I won’t be your emotional punching bag,” you responded.

With that, you left the trailer and made the trek back through the set. A few eyes followed after you, confusion evident on their brow, but no one said a word. Except for the director who asked where Cooper was and where you were going.

“He’s still getting ready. Give him an extra 15. As for me, I’m taking the rest of the day off,” you said. The tone of your response must have made him think twice about pushing for more information, especially with the way your heels thudded against the ground with every purposeful step you took across the lot.

The heat was becoming unbearable for a reason that had to be solely influenced by your heightened emotions. In the back of your mind, Barb’s accusations rung loud and clear. Your fingers tingled with the memory of being on his chest, the thin sheen of sweat that had built up in his sleep dampening your skin… you rubbed the pads of each finger together subconsciously. 

Cooper Howard was your boss. That had to be that.

The silence in your home was broken by the television and the soft snores of your golden retriever, Oliver, who’d cuddled up against your legs once you’d settled in for the night. You were half paying attention to the game show you’d landed on, mostly providing background noise as you scribbled notes in a book about screenplay writing.

It was a pastime of yours, a comfort really, something reserved for the quiet hours of your day. Some didn’t understand, like your parents, why you worked for a movie star daily, helped with movies and scripts, and still came home to read books about it all.

Thankfully, you didn’t have to deal with their questions often now that this was considered ‘your’ house. It was the one you’d grown up in and returned to after college. They thought about selling it numerous times, but since it was so close to Cooper’s—and many other Hollywood elite—they thought it better if you occupied it for now. Retirement was one hell of a paycheck for them and their sun tans were evidence of it every time they came back for the holiday of their choosing. Or sometimes… just not at all.

But you were okay with that.

Your eyes started to get heavy, words blurring on the page, and fingers loosening around your pen. You’d have succumbed to it if a sudden knock on your door didn’t startle both you and Oliver, who barked at the sound. The possibilities of guests this late were slim to none. Solicitors? At this hour? Your home didn’t have a gate like the movie stars around you so it sometimes made them feel bold…

Your eyebrows furrowed but you got to your feet as quietly as possible, adjusting your silk sleep shorts and matching camisole, and tiptoed into the entryway. Oliver followed close behind but stopped just behind you to observe. You moved up onto your tiptoes to gaze through the peephole, loose braid swaying against you with every movement. The person beyond it—

With a quick flick of your wrist, you unlocked the door, inhaled deeply, and pulled it open.

“Mr. Howard,” you said evenly through the medium-sized crack in the door. His lips tightened a little at your intentional professionalism. 

Your eyes floated over him enough to see he was dressed down—the sleeves of his half-untucked blue button-up pulled up messily with the top three buttons undone, worn jeans you rarely saw him in, some even older-looking boots worn with dirt, and hair partially disheveled. In one hand he held a fast food bag with the logo of a chain you loved and in the other, a simple bouquet of your favorite flower.

“What can I do for you?” you added. The same flame you’d felt earlier in the day when you found him in the trailer was a fizzle of embers, barely a wisp of the same feeling. So you’d hear him out at the very least.

“I know it’s late,” he started, taking what you could only assume was a steadying breath. “But… I wanted to say I’m sorry for… earlier.” Cooper wiggled the bag a little in his hand. “If you don’t wanna hear my bullshit tonight I get it, I just figured apologizin’ face to face was better than a phone call—”

You pulled the door open more, wide enough to let him in the house, and he held your gaze for a long moment. The weight of it made you shrink a little, given your attire currently, but you stood as firm as you could beside the door waiting for him to enter.

“Alright,” he whispered. A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He finally removed his eyes from your face once he’d stepped inside and Oliver, who’d waited so patiently despite the loud thumps of his tail, bolted to greet Cooper. His entire body wiggled with excitement as he sniffed the man’s legs. “Hey there Ollie,” Cooper said in a slightly higher pitch. “Kitchen’s through here right?” he asked, pointing to a room to the left of the staircase. You nodded as you closed the door. “Don’t worry, I got you a small fry too,” he said to Oliver who eagerly followed beside him to the kitchen.

Once he’d moved out of sight, you rushed back into the living room to grab the silk robe that you’d tossed off of you hours ago, fastening it tightly. You felt some of the self-consciousness dissipate and when you finally entered, you found Cooper opening up the bag of food and pulling out what looked to be two burgers and some fries, which he quickly rewarded Oliver, who’d been sitting patiently next to the island where Cooper had set the food.

“You, uh,  got a vase I can put these in for you?” Cooper asked, nodding toward the bouquet. He seemed a bit timid, eyes on you, almost as if he thought you would regret your hospitality at any moment.

“I got it,” you answered and moved past him to open up one of the cupboards. Upon reaching in, the tips of your fingers grazed a clay vase that you knew. You pulled it down, gently placing it on the counter, and the lights of the kitchen reflected off of the carefully placed recycled pieces of colorful glass shards. It was a little project you’d done alongside Janey, who opted for recycled bottle caps for hers, and was an entire day of work—careful work—while babysitting her the year prior.

“Janey still has hers,” he commented as he placed a fry in his mouth. A smile tugged at the corner of your lips at that, always touched that Janey appreciates the little gestures you do for her. “She made some paper flowers for it, different colors for the people she loves in her life… Your favorite color’s in there too.”

You turned to him then and found him chewing on another fry, eyes flicking up to you. Your hand moved to the side of the vase, gently running your fingers against the material.

“That’s… so sweet,” you said softly.

“She’s real attached to you,” he added, just as soft. You believed that sentiment, you loved Janey, but you couldn’t help but feel how weighted that statement felt. Something was hovering behind it, like a shadow that danced on the edges of the light. His gaze stayed on you, expectant in a way, and that heat from earlier started to return. That tingle on your fingers…

Actual tingles. Pain.

“Ow!” you winced, pulling your hand away from the vase. You raised your hand to your line of sight, deep red trickling down your shaky index finger.

“Shit,” the two of you said in unison. Cooper was next to you in an instant, fingers pulling your hand toward him so he could inspect. It shouldn’t have been a surprise, you’d always known him to be a wonderful, attentive, husband and father, so why wouldn’t he be the same for his friends? But you still found yourself blinking in surprise, watching him intently.

“The hazards of artistic innovation,” you tried to joke. He huffed a laugh while still examining the cut.

“Don’t look too bad. You got a med kit somewhere?”

“Uh, bathroom, upstairs on the right.”

“Alright, go ‘head and wash it off, be right back,” he said and disappeared from the kitchen. Oliver followed him but didn’t leave the entryway to the kitchen, opting to wait within the line of sight of his small bag of fries.

You did as you were instructed and took a few steps toward the empty sink. The water flowed from the faucet onto your finger, blood clearing and flowing into the drain. It stung but your mind was elsewhere, occupied by Cooper’s energy tonight. His apology seemed genuine, the flowers and food thoughtful… 

Maybe you were just in your head about what had happened in the trailer, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. Cooper was your boss so it was usually you doing things like this for him, Janey, hell, even Barb when they were together. Taking care of them. Maybe that was it… Yeah. That was it.

You finished rinsing the cut just as Cooper came back into the kitchen, placing the supplies he’d grabbed on the counter next to you—some rubbing alcohol, ointment, a bandage, and one of the hand towels from your bathroom. He reached for your hand, holding it gently in the palm of his over the sink. The solution hit your finger and you winced a tiny bit.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“It’s alright,” you reassured.

He took the washcloth next and dabbed thoughtfully, eyes on your finger like it was the most important thing in the world.

“I spent some time with Sugarfoot after the shoot. Tried to, uh, clear my head,” he started. You mumbled an ‘mhm’ as you watched his movements, the ointment sliding from the tube to the cut effortlessly. “It felt… wrong, without you there today.” You hummed, still feeling a little strange about seeing him that way. It wasn’t the Cooper you knew and from this talk, it felt like he knew that too.

“I think I might’a…” He sighed, wrapping your finger in the bandage. “I might’a been takin’ advantage of just how much you do for me every day. Keepin’ me on track, takin’ care of Janey…”

You noticed he was done tending to your wound but his hand didn’t move, yours lying in his palm as his fingers gently flexed around it. Your gaze turned up and caught his eyes searching your face for any objections. You surprisingly had none.

“I don’t appreciate you enough,” he said, tone sincere as the words panged in your chest. You couldn’t remember a time when Cooper had done something like this. Minor apologies occurred here and there, of course, but never like this.

“Cooper,” you said. You reflexively turned to look down at your hands, unsure how to react to the intensity of his stare. This was more than the casual breezy times you shared together as his assistant. Especially when you felt his fingers touch your chin to return your gaze to his. It was gentle enough for you to refuse the motion, to pull away, but you found yourself allowing it. That heat was back. It crept up the back of your neck into your cheeks the longer Cooper’s fingers remained on your chin.

“I apologize for my behavior earlier,” he said and dropped his fingers. The places they’d been felt like they’d lost something and you weren’t sure if you were disappointed or not. “You’re not my emotional punchin’ bag. You’re one of the most important people in my life and I don’t want my stupid fuckin’ decisions when I’m upset to drive you away.”

You nibbled on the corner of your lip and considered his words. You’d known him long enough to see through his bullshit and this… this was the furthest thing from that. It was a vulnerable moment for him and you could tell not his proudest either.

“You’re not going to miss your call time tomorrow, right?” you asked. You hadn’t realized just how close you’d been, neck craning a bit to look up at him. He chuckled which instinctively made you smile.

“Yes ma’am,” he said. You rolled your eyes as you finally removed your hand from his—which had remained curled around yours almost the whole conversation—and approached the island. Oliver had fallen asleep while you two were conversing but his head perked up the moment he heard you open the food bag.

“Well, Mr. Howard, we should eat this before it gets even colder,” you said.

“Damn, still in the doghouse then, huh?” he asked, stepping up next to you, shoulder brushing against yours.

“For now,” you joked, looking up at him for a moment. “We’ll see how I feel after you make it to that call time.” You held up his burger and he chuckled, taking it from your grasp.

“Bright and early then,” he conceded. You smiled and took a nice, hearty bite out of your apology burger.

“Lookin’ awful hard at that,” Cooper said from the other side of the hot tub. “Somethin’ I need to worry ‘bout?”

You spared a glance away from the script atop your knees—you weren’t in the hot tub with him, instead perched on the wooden stairs that led down from it. Since filming had wrapped for his most recent movie, you weren’t due on set with him today and opted for a more casual outfit; some shorts that had migrated a bit further down from your knees when you sat, a strapless top that tucked into them, and your hair tied up in a scarf. Your free hand fiddled with the chain of your necklace as you tapped a bare foot against the stairs. 

While the luxuries of the Howard household were open for you to utilize at any point, per Cooper’s explicit reminders as of late, it was too warm and you had business to conduct with him and this script.

“Aside from the fact that it’s pure Vault-Tec slop?” you asked, distaste evident in your tone. He let out a breath of laughter as he took a sip from the gin martini you’d prepared for him. Your own martini glass sat on the tray next to the cup of olives, untouched, as you sat bewildered by the script in your hands. Your voice turned almost sing-songy as you lifted the script up to read, “‘Strong enough to keep out the rads and the Reds’...” Your face scrunched into distaste. “Who wrote this? An intern?”

“Someone named Bolt Ass-skins or somethin’, I don’t remember,” he said and sipped more from his martini. You snorted a little in response.

“Well, it does exactly what it needs to, unfortunately,” you sighed and tapped your pen against the papers. “Peddling safety and exclusivity from a make-believe nuclear nightmare…” You stared down at the paper, teeth gently nibbling the inside of your cheek absently. “Because who should be saved but the rich and elite.”

There was a small moment of quiet after that, your mind taking you elsewhere, a place where Vault-Tec’s fear-mongering might be true and you and your family were left in the nuclear dust, lost to time and dispersed to the universe with every gust of wind that passed over your bones. Forgotten.

The water sloshed a bit as Cooper moved toward your side of the tub and you snapped back to the present. Your assistant mode kicked in and, though Cooper looked to be reaching for the olives, you got to them first.

“You’d have one too, you know,” he said casually. Your brow furrowed as you turned your eyes down to him, olive plopping softly in the glass he held out. “You & Ollie—right next to me and Janey… or with us, if you wanted.”

“That’s… That’s kind of you, Cooper, but I could never ask you to do that—”

“I know, but you don’t need to,” he said. The sun caught the green-brown of his eyes, the salt in his pepper hair glistening as he looked up at you. “Hell, I’ll even put some money down for your family if you want them there too.”

“As long as you put them on the other side of the vault,” you joked, which earned a laugh from him and made you chuckle.

“Consider it done,” he said, with a smirk that you rolled your eyes at. You didn’t doubt Cooper’s sincerity about that offer but it was so grandiose, so out of your ballpark of realism, that you couldn’t truly consider it. “What time is it?” he asked suddenly. 

You rolled your wrist enough to see the time on your watch and said, “Just after one.”

“I should go shower real fast so I can get Janey from school,” he said and drank the rest of his martini, and the olive, in one motion. “Maybe later we’ll go grab some ice cream at that place y’all like. Forget about that Vault-Tec stuff for a little while.”

“Hard to forget when you’ve got that photoshoot coming up in a couple of days and they still haven’t given you the dress code,” you said.

“Suit and tie until otherwise notified,” he commented nonchalantly, proud of his rhyme. You watched as he stood, just long enough to see his exposed chest, and turned away when the top of his small cobalt swim shorts—practically a speedo—peaked over the top of the water. You reached behind you for his towel and offered it to him without looking. He made a noise, something like a chuckle.

“Come on, up with ya.” Cooper gave your exposed thigh a little tap, water trickling down your skin, signaling he was headed for the exit of the hot tub. You moved instantly, making your way down the small wooden staircase attached to the adjacent tub, and focused back on the script. He joined your stride back up to the house, still dripping wet and with the towel around his neck now, but you kept your eyes on the words in front of you.

“So, any edits then? Or is the slop good enough?”

“Even if I did, I don’t think Vault-Tec would give a damn about them,” you said. Cooper held the backdoor open for you, the cool air of the house a welcome reprieve from the hot tub’s steam and the sun’s rays. “I’ll give this another once over while you shower. Just for posterity.”

“You’re gon’ have that memorized before I do.”

“I usually do,” you said with a wide smile intended to ooze playful sarcasm. This time he rolled his eyes. “Now go.”

“Alright, alright,” he said, hands up as he walked toward the staircase, Roosevelt in tow. You resisted the temptation to peek up at him, eyes rereading the same line over and over until you heard both of them disappear fully upstairs. An exhale left you, a tinge of heat on your cheeks, and you found yourself slapping the papers onto the nearest surface to get yourself an ice-cold glass of water. It hadn’t been that hot outside, but you felt like you were slowly burning up on the inside… or at least your face did.

You had found a place on the couch to wait for Cooper and reread this script for the millionth time, two full glasses of ice water downed, when the doorbell rang. Cooper hadn’t told you about any guests paying a visit. You placed the script on the coffee table and padded toward the door. A quick peek through the peephole revealed a man in a suit, who looked a tad nervous and carried a medium-sized box in his hand branded with the Vault-Tec logo. You opened the door and put on your friendliest smile.

“Hello, how can I help you?” you asked.

“Oh, uh, hi, I’m… Is Cooper Howard home?” the man asked.

“I’m his assistant, how can I help you?” you repeated, your tone sickeningly sweet in the face of this man. He chuckled nervously.

“His assistant, right, right,” he said like the information had just dawned on him. “I’m sorry to, um, bother him here, at his home. I’m actually an assistant too—Miss Howard’s—and I was told to deliver this to him.” Miss Howard… Your eyebrows rose slightly at the mention of Barb having her own assistant now, but you staved off your curiosity and nodded along.

“Nice to meet you, Mister…?”

“MacLean. Hank MacLean,” he said with a big smile.

“Nice to meet you Hank,” you said, reaching your hand out to shake his. He obliged, despite fumbling with the package for a moment. “Can I ask what this package is for…?”

“It’s Mr. Howard’s suit for the upcoming photoshoot. Custom made for him,” he clarified. Hank offered you the box and you took it with the same smile you’d given him originally. “Between you and I, I’m a big fan of his, and I’d love to meet him at some point.”

You gave your business laugh and nodded your head before saying, “I’m sure you’ll get the chance. I’ll get this to Mr. Howard right away. Nice to meet you, Mr. MacLean.” You slowly closed the door, a bit of surprise on his face.

“Nice to meet you as well! I’m sure we’ll be seeing each other a lot in the future. You know, assistants and all.”

“Looking forward to it,” you said before you fully closed the door and promptly locked it. The smile disappeared from your lips. The Vault-Tec logo felt obnoxious, as was most of what they did, and the box felt like it had a bit of weight to it. Despite your immediate curiosity, you made your way upstairs and approached Cooper’s bedroom.

“Cooper?” you called into the space.

“Still in the shower!” he called back. “Everything alright?”

You moved further into the room and approached the bathroom door, which was cracked. The steam trickled out like a fog, dissipating into the cool air of the rest of the house. Roosevelt was asleep in his dog bed.

“Yeah, you got a package from Vault-Tec!”

“Vault-Tec? What’s in it?” he asked over the running water.

“Dunno, haven’t opened it yet. Barb’s new assistant delivered it though. He seems… nice.”

“New assistant?” Cooper laughed.

“Yeah, he was real keen on meeting you, Mr. Howard,” you said and he responded with an amused noise.

You moved into the room, looking for something sharp to open up this package, and settled on the pocketknife Cooper had sitting out on his dresser next to one of his signature white cowboy hats he’d kept from set. It opened with a click, and you slid it over the packing tape, right through the Vault-Tec logo, and opened the box up. Inside was a suit, but not a classic suit, more similar to a jumpsuit in his signature cobalt and trimmed with yellow. You were intrigued, but also, confused, as you closed the pocketknife and placed it on the sheets. The water in the bathroom cut off.

“Well, it’s a suit but not— OH!” You had turned to shout back to Cooper when your eyes found him emerging from the bathroom and approaching you, with only a towel around his waist. You’d glimpsed a bit of his leg as he walked, peeking from the material, all the way up to his hip. No undergarments in sight. You instantaneously spun around, back toward him, and fire blazed in your cheeks. Picking out ties was one thing, but this… This was new. “I’m so sorry, I can leave.”

“Ain’t much different than seeing me in that hot tub,” he said.

You clenched your teeth, throat bobbing as you contemplated how to best remove yourself from the situation. There was a small part of you, one you didn’t even realize existed, that wished you’d turn around. It yearned for it… Yearned. No. You stifled the feeling with embarrassment, stomping it out the best you could.

“I don’t want to be disrespectful,” you managed.

“Y’ain’t,” he said, so instantly, so certainly, that it made you hyper-aware of your rising heartbeat. You heard movement, both exhilarating and nerve-wracking for a reason you couldn’t place. The hair you’d released from your scarf earlier framed your face, nurturing the heat in your cheeks.

You practically jumped when you heard Cooper’s voice right next to your ear.

“If you’re so concerned about it, why don’t you hold onto this for me, sweetheart,” he whispered, voice low and breath tickling your ear. The heat from the shower radiated from his bare chest and settled gently against your back, his body inches from yours, you’d realized. Your breath hitched.

Before you could indulge in any further self-examination, you felt a pressure on top of your head, and through your eyelashes, you could make out the brim of Cooper’s cowboy hat. He’d leaned it far enough forward that it blocked anything that wasn’t directly below you.

“There. Good now, darlin’?” he said in the same tone as before. Your body felt as though it wanted to melt, but whether you wanted to melt into Cooper or the floor was the concern you were met with.

“Yes, sir,” you said, professionalism tainted by the breathiness of your response. A sound of acknowledgment left him, some sort of ‘mm’, and your shoulders tensed even more. The sun’s beams had nothing on the heat you felt trickling down your throat and pooling all in your gut.

“At least it’s in my colors,” he said, neutral, from behind you. You heard the shuffling of material like he’d pulled the suit out of the box and promptly dropped it back down without much thought. Then you heard his footsteps move away from you. “Ice cream tonight, right?” he asked.

You turned, finally, and lifted the brim enough to see him walking away, water trailing down his broad shoulders and back.

“Right,” you said.

When he reached the bathroom door he turned his face enough to see you watching him. A smirk crept onto his lips.

“Looks good on you,” he said, words genuine but laced with a bit of smugness like he’d proved something to himself. Or maybe to you. Without much else, he slipped into the bathroom and left you there with that pool of lava in your stomach. Even a gallon of ice cream wouldn’t be able to fix that.

“So, has he said anything about the script? Any notes?” Bud Askins asked you, voice full of that corporate confidence that only a pressed suit and a 401k could exude. Your arms were crossed and your eyes remained on Cooper who stood before the camera. He’d just found his stride with a charming thumbs up that had everyone exhilarated like he’d invented the damn gesture in the first place. Even Barb, who stood a few feet from you, on the opposite side of the camera, was sporting a smile. One that she probably thought no one would see except Cooper; he hadn’t spared a single glance at her. If he wasn’t looking at the camera… he was looking at you.

You caught the corner of your bottom lip with your canine to resist returning his smile.

Bud addressed you again.

“Hm?” You tore your eyes from Cooper to look up at Bud who was all smiles and borderline insufferable puppy dog eyes. His endearing allure was stifled by the knowledge that he was some sort of head honcho at Vault-Tec. “Oh, no notes,” you whispered back with a smile. He nodded back as the photographer shouted something out to Cooper that sounded encouraging.

 You naturally looked at the photographer and caught Barb looking over at you. The two of you locked eyes for what felt longer than it was before she turned away from you, expression slipping to something you couldn’t recognize. A frown tugged at your lips that you didn’t hide fast enough, Cooper’s eyes on you again while he adjusted to a new pose. So quickly you might not have caught it if you didn’t know him as well as you did.

The photos carried on for another ten or so minutes, Bud Askins desperately trying to converse with you about Cooper and his opinions, to which you answered most with ‘I’m not sure’, despite knowing the answers to everything. Once the photographer called a wrap on the shoot, Cooper exhaled and started to head toward you. He shook a few hands along the way, flashing that Hollywood smile at everyone.

“Man–” he started, reaching out to grab your arm. Barb intercepted it, hand gripping his upper arm while simultaneously stepping a bit between the two of you. It was so swift that you had no time to react.

“Cooper, we’ve got some business to discuss before you go,” Barb said. The tone of her voice sounded just as insincere as Bud’s. All corporate with a tinge of bite that was likely reserved specifically for you. You smiled at Cooper.

“I’ve got scripts to review, I’ll just meet you back at your trailer,” you said. Cooper looked between the two of you but understood, giving a small nod. “Barb,” you said respectfully. She said your name but it held nothing. 

Cooper gazed back at you as she led him away, gaze apologetic. While you absolutely could have been part of that conversation as his assistant, there was a sort of guilt eating at you for the other day with the cowboy hat. Guilt that you were almost sure Barb could sniff out and exploit if she wanted to. Despite being fully capable of standing up for yourself, the last thing you wanted to do was cause more problems for Cooper and Janey.

So you walked back to his trailer and settled yourself on the couch you’d found him passed out on weeks ago. A deep exhale left your body, the heaviness of being around Vault-Tec wasn’t the same as being on a movie set. The egos could rival each other of course but you’d take arguing with a director over one of those suits any day.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed when you finally heard the trailer door swing open. The force of it immediately drew your now widened eyes and you caught Cooper’s crimson-kissed cheeks and scowl as he slammed behind him. He walked past you with a muttered ‘sorry’ and to the room at the back he used to get dressed. He didn’t close that door. You peered to the front door, half expecting Barb to charge in behind him, but nothing.

“Cooper?” you tried loud enough for him to hear. Silence, only the faint sound of him fussing with the suit. Your brows furrowed, concern building as you placed the scripts to the side and moved toward the room he’d disappeared into. From the short hallway you could see Cooper with his back towards you, hands pressed against the vanity and head hung low. “Coop,” you said again, softer. He took in a steadying breath.

“Help me get outta this thing, would’ya?” he replied loud enough for you to hear. “It’s hot as shit.”

“Sure thing.”

Cooper turned to face you, the tinge of red you’d seen color his face was now a light pink. He’d already brought his zipper down to his waist, a thin white undershirt peeking from beneath. Curiosity danced across your mind as he reached out one of his arms to you, your fingers hooking into his sleeve securely. He tugged and wiggled to free himself.

“What’s bothering you, Coop?” you asked. You looked up at him but he didn’t look at you.

“Nothin’,” he attempted. You answered with a deadpan stare.

“Try again.”

He ran his tongue over his teeth while he contemplated. It could’ve been a handful of things with him, but there was only one person here who could get under his skin like this. You just weren’t going to say it.

He hummed an irritated noise, giving up on freeing himself from the suit, and ran his free hand through his hair. His eyes finally settled on your face.

“You got plans tonight?” he asked suddenly.

“Why?”

“Just–” He looked like he’d bitten back some frustration that was threatening to spill over onto you. “Do you want to get outta town with me? Just for a little while?”

The way he looked at you made your heart sink. Cooper and Janey meant the world to you and you hated to see him so rattled—it made you want to do anything in your power to resolve or ease it.

“I don’t need my assistant, I just…” Cooper’s free hand reached up and, for a moment, you thought he’d touch your face. You found yourself unopposed to the idea. Instead, though, you caught his hesitation, another fleeting moment, just before he redirected himself to your upper arm. It was a gentle touch, but one that felt like it meant more than either of you would admit. Grounding. “I just want your company.”

You gave him a slow nod.

“Where’d you want to go?” you asked with a gentle smile that he tried to match.

Not as an assistant, but as a friend… You could do that.

The sun was setting by the time you’d left the city, the Hollywood sign had long since faded into the distance behind you both. You’d been in Cooper’s Kaiser Darrin before, always enamored by the convertible with its sleek pastel yellow design and the quiet cruise it offered wherever it arrived. Typically, the subtle hum of the radio or idle chatter kept any empty air from feeling awkward or strange, but tonight this two-seater never felt more suffocating. 

You couldn’t tell where the nerves were coming from. You had no idea where he was taking you, but you trusted him so it couldn’t be coming from that. Years, you’d spent years as Cooper’s assistant and accompanied him to plenty of places both professional and casual, even with Janey. There was no reason you should’ve felt as tense as you did during the drive.

Whether Cooper noticed or not, you had no idea. Since leaving his house—after dropping off Oliver to keep Roosevelt company and pester the dog sitter for fries—he’d been quiet, though his interactions were brief but not mean. Whatever happened at the photoshoot had him tangled up in his mind.

The radio remained off for at least the first hour, sounds of the city filling your ears, including the loud comments people considered whispers as they ogled the movie star temporarily halted by the stop light. You did your best to avoid their stares, big sunglasses and a headscarf were barely a comfort. People who cared about that stuff knew you were his assistant but all it took was one rumor to sweep through and potentially ruin everything. Cooper remained unbothered about all of that too.

When he finally turned on the radio, the sunset was casting all of its hues of tangerine, gold, and violets over the highway. The tinkle of the opening piano keys to ‘Don’t Fence Me In’ played loud enough for you to recognize and suddenly the sunset was no longer your focus, it was Cooper’s voice.

You’d heard him sing a tune before, especially at home dancing with Janey, or even Barb, but you never gave it much thought. Never really listened. He was no Sinatra, but he didn’t need to be. He sang for himself, effort elevating with every word, voice piercing through the wind to reach you. Despite not sparing a glance at you and his casual demeanor—one arm propped on the car door while the other handled the wheel—you could sense an underlying context. Something deeply personal seeping through. You wouldn’t pry, not right now anyway, so instead… you sang too.

Cooper finally spared a glance at you then and you did the same. A smile tugged at the corner of his lips but he hid it with his free hand, both of you returning your attention to the road ahead of you. 

“Oh, give me land, lots of land under starry skies… Don't fence me in,” you both sang.

The tension you’d felt began to ease, continuing your duet and releasing the pressure that’d built up in your shoulders. You sang for the wind too, let it dance on its wisps to twist and mingle with Cooper’s, released into the evening air.

It took another hour or so before you left the highway and the hills started to have tall trees, until eventually, the tree-lined road led to an imposing gate for a community you couldn’t quite make-out. Your curiosity peaked further as Cooper slowed the car and approached a booth with a security guard already leaning out to greet him.

“Coop!” the guard greeted, a big smile on his face.

“Hey, Henderson,” he answered. The two exchanged a handshake before the guard’s attention turned to you. Immediately you felt a wave of unease wash over you, that paranoia you’d felt earlier in the city with the fans on the street.

“Hello,” you greeted. To your surprise, the guard greeted you by your last name and a friendly nod.

“What brings you both out here?” Henderson asked. There seemed to be a genuine curiosity about him, nothing nefarious, but your worry was gnawing at your psyche again.

“Needed some quiet,” Cooper said. “City’s too loud.”

“Tch, I think that every morning when I have to drive home,” Henderson chuckled. He reached back into the booth to write something down on a clipboard before he pressed a button that began opening the gate.

“Jim still outta town filmin’ that movie?” Cooper asked.

“Sure is,” he responded. “But you know you and yours are always welcome here. Glenda will clean up in the morning like usual.”

“Thanks, Henderson,” Cooper said and, without you even realizing, had pulled a hundred dollar bill out to hand to the man, which he promptly took. “Say hi to the wife and kids for me.”

“Will do,” he said with a salute, bill still between his fingers. “Enjoy your time away from the big city.”

Cooper waved casually and moved the vehicle forward into the darkness, headlights illuminating the paved road and trees around it. Some roads led to obvious houses in the distance, while others remained out of sight, and it only took a couple of minutes before a charming cottage came into view. While it was undoubtedly expensive, it wasn’t too over the top, surprisingly quaint. Two stories, modest windows, rich brown wooden sidings with dark trimmings, and lovely greenery partially illuminated by the front porch light.

The car came to a slow stop just below the porch.

“Where are we?” you finally asked as Cooper turned off the engine.

“Somewhere quiet,” he repeated, voice quieter than you’d anticipated. You didn’t push, instead turning your attention to your seatbelt as he got out of the car. Before you could reach for your door handle Cooper was already sliding your door open and offering his hand to you. “C’mon.” You nodded and placed your hand in his, legs aching from the long car ride when you finally stood. He didn’t hold on for very long, the feeling gone as quickly as it started, so you followed him to the front door.

Cooper caught your apprehensiveness, probably in your body language alone, so while fiddling with a set of keys, he said, “No one’s home. An old actor friend’a mine barely uses it, stays empty when it’s not summer, so he lets me stop by whenever I want.”

“Jim…” You tried to recall the name and the face but there were no bells ringing up in the tower of your mind. Cooper chuckled and finally found the key he’d been searching for, inserting it into the keyhole, and opening the door.

“You know most of the people I work with, but not all of ‘em,” he said. Your unamused expression dissolved rather quickly into a smile as he stepped inside of the home to flick on some lights. You followed behind him, the smell of cleaner settling into your nostrils—Glenda’s doing if you had to guess—and the shine of picture frames, tables, and well-kept knick-knacks, pulling your eye every which way.

It wasn’t until you reached one of the back rooms that you noticed the modest windows at the front were not the same as the back of the home where almost every wall had one. This room in particular had a beautiful stone fireplace with plenty of seating surrounding it and the view from the window was limited to the well-lit backyard, nothing but darkness beyond the hill.

You heard the door close behind you and turned in time to see Cooper approaching. He set a duffel bag on the floor by the fireplace, one you didn’t realize he’d even packed and stood with his hands in the pockets of his grey dress pants. He ran a hand over the front of his sweater, almost like he was nervous.

“Not sure what’s here by way of food, should’a probably thought of that before leaving, but Glenda usually likes to keep the basics anyhow,” he said. “And I do make a mean PB n’ J. Rave reviews.”

You chuckled.

“Janey’s reviews are critical,” you said. “I wouldn’t mind trying that.”

“Consider it done,” he said and turned to head toward where you assumed the kitchen was. He added, “Make yourself comfortable.”

You heard the sound of Cooper exploring cabinets in the kitchen and did some light exploration of the rooms around you. It was a nice home, but not egregious, you could understand why this would be a nice getaway space. All the fixings for comfort but nothing that reminded you of being back in the city. No glitz or glam that took you out of where you were, just happy family portraits, mementos, and a warmth only good memories could fill a room with.

It wasn’t long before you found your way outside again, the backyard as well kept as the rest of the home. There were chairs to sit on and a small fire pit for those lucky nights that actually carried a chill, where you could roast marshmallows and share intimate secrets and laughs with friends. It’d been a while since you’d experienced that, college a few years back if you had to guess, and while they were fun, you didn’t yearn for your college days like so many others. You liked your life right now, even if it felt a little complicated at times.

“Order up,” Cooper’s voice said from behind you. You turned to see him set a plate down on one of the tables accompanied by a glass of water. “If you hate it, don’t say anything.” A chuckle left you as you approached the table, fingers wrapping around the sandwich and eyes locked on Cooper’s face. He was waiting. So you took your time overly examining it, twisting and turning it, and adding little ‘hmm’s for effect. He rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. Just as he was about to say something you finally took a bite… It was good, of course it was. The perfect ratio of ingredients.

“Not bad,” you teased.

“Not bad?”

“I’m a harsher critic than Janey.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” he joked.

You huffed a laugh again as he turned back inside, returning a moment later with his own sandwich. You turned to look out at what you’d gathered was a lake, a dock at the bottom of the incline this home was on, a singular lamp post at the end of it. On either side of you there were darkened homes and unlit docks, probably also abandoned outside of the summer, and the rest was the dark lake. It made you feel a bit more at ease, the chance of paparazzi or nosey neighbors dropping drastically, so you let yourself breathe a bit more and wiggled the tension that had built up again in your shoulders. The two of you ate your sandwiches in silence for a few moments, enjoying the light breeze coming off the water and the stillness of it all.

“A shame he took the boat,” Cooper said as he took a large bite.

“I don’t think I’d want to be out there at night anyhow,” you said.

“No?”

You shook your head.

“I’ve never been in or on a lake, they make me uneasy,” you admitted. “I’d take the beach instead any day.”

“How local of you,” he teased, finishing up his last bite.

“Hey,” you said. You tossed the last bit in your mouth and turned to him to point your index finger at him. “I don’t appreciate all the jabs you’re taking at me tonight, sir.” Cooper turned to you and matched your energy. Instead of addressing your comment though, his eyes dropped to your lips and he leaned down a little bit. The unfamiliarity of the motion made you reflexively lean away a bit but he remained.

“You got something—” He reached up his hand before you could try to rectify whatever situation he was indicating and you felt his thumb press against your lip. You stopped, eyes on his face, but he was focused on your mouth. Your heartbeat increased at the simple motion, soft but just enough pressure for you to feel, and when he swiped it along your lip, it felt like minutes had passed. Cooper held up his thumb for you to see the culprit. “Jelly,” he said.

You touched your face self-consciously and half expected him to wipe it on his sweater, so the surprise in your expression was genuine when you watched him put that same thumb up to his mouth. His tongue dragged along it, slow, like a show, watching you. A smirk settled onto his lips when he finished.

“Can’t waste Glenda’s supply,” he said. You had nothing. Cooper looked like he was resisting the urge to laugh as he started down the incline toward the path. He offered his hand to you. “C’mon, I wanna show you somethin’.”

It took you a second to snap back to this moment, mind wandering to incredibly inappropriate places where his tongue was running along—

“Sure. Sure,” you said, placing your hand in his.

Cooper carefully led you to the stairs that brought you to the bottom of the incline as opposed to the slick grass you’d almost slipped on. The dock itself was sturdy, but you were still cautious with every step you made, especially after Cooper turned the light at the end of the dock off. He didn’t let go of your hand the entire time, grip reassuring and helpful, and when you reached the end, he released you—to your disappointment—and pointed up.

“This is it,” he whispered.

You turned your eyes up to the sky and felt the breath leave you for a moment. It was a clear night, the moon beautiful and waning within the blanket of sapphire and surrounded by twinkling stars. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d seen the sky as clear as this, been able to take in the majesty of it all without the flood of Hollywood lights. It calmed you, made you feel as though you were weightless, so much so that you could feel a well of emotions building within you.

Silence overtook you both again for a while…

Cooper sighed.

“It was Barb,” he managed. Your brow furrowed in confusion. He pulled a cigarette carton and lighter from his pocket, slid a singular one out, and put the pack away again. “She…” He sighed again, finding it difficult to formulate the thought he wanted to say. “She’s got me on this leash with Vault-Tec. She knows it’s all I got going for me right now. If I lose this… There’s a chance she’ll try to take Janey from me completely.” Cooper lit the cigarette and took a long drag before pocketing the lighter too. You turned to him slightly.

“I’m so sorry, Coop,” you said with deep sincerity.

Cooper huffed a laugh, one that held no amusement or warmth, just irritation. He didn’t look at you.

“On top’a that, she keeps throwing you back in my face,” he said. “Like I’m not allowed to move on or be happy in any way with anyone. But ‘specially not you.” His voice had dipped into a whisper but you heard every single word.

Your confusion deepened. What was he saying? You knew Barb was strange when it came to you, had been since the divorce was finalized, but you never thought she would weaponize you against him. Not like this at least. You, of all people… It made you feel awful.

“I shoulda known she’d stoop this low eventually. I knew she was capable of it. If it wasn’t you, it’d be someone else, you’re just the closest to me and…” Cooper spared a look at you then, but it was brief like he couldn’t take more than a few seconds, such a contrast to earlier.

“But we’re not…” you tried, but couldn’t even find the words to finish. “You don’t want me like that.” It was all just Cooper Howard being a charming movie star… right?

“Well that’s just it, ain’t it, sweetheart?” he asked, blowing smoke into the night air. You watched Cooper intently. He sighed, ash tumbling from the cigarette twitching in his fingers. “I dunno what you’ve done, or how, but I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you. Not for one damn second.” He finally looked you in the eye then. The moonlight did no justice for that beautiful green-brown you knew all too well. Your heart hammered against the cage of your chest as you resisted the urge to fold under the weight of his gaze.

“Coop,” you whispered. There was no string of thought you could find for this moment. You couldn’t say there weren’t signs—ones you may have chosen to blatantly ignore. Truthfully, there was a part of you that wondered if you were just a placeholder until some starlet strolled up to him one day and took him off the market again. A familiar distraction. That platonic piece of his life that would never be anything more than a casual flirt… But you knew each other. He’d never shown interest before these last couple of weeks. When he was with Barb, he had eyes for no one else, especially not you.

And yet.

Here he was now showing you the heart on his sleeve, beneath the stars, in a place where he felt safe enough to do so. For you and only you.

The way he said your name was unlike anything you’d heard from him before. So soft it could have been a breath. It made your heart flutter. He stamped out the last of his cigarette and turned to fully face you. You looked up at him. Cooper took a step forward. There was barely an inch between you.

A cool breeze passed over the bare part of your legs, sending a shiver through you. Cooper reached up then and gently placed his warm palm against your cheek. Even in the moonlight, you could tell he was searching your face for any sign of rejection, ready to pull away at a moment’s notice.

He inched closer to you with every second that passed. One of your hands found his chest, halting him for a moment, but the other glided up his arm until your fingers wrapped around the hand he’d placed on your cheek. There was a brief moment you considered pulling away, to not solidify this potential problem in Cooper’s life, to add fuel to the fire that Barb was already igniting.

“I thought you just wanted a friend,” you said quietly. The tension in the air was palpable. You could practically swim in it.

Cooper took a long moment, a deep inhale through his nostrils.

“Who the fuck was I kiddin’.”

His lips collided with yours, a cocktail of desire and residual nicotine—a concoction so intoxicating that you melted into him instantly. Your hatred of cigarettes was overpowered by the way Cooper’s lips moved against yours. Everything you’d known before this moment felt like a world away, magnetism finally colliding with one another after narrowly avoiding each other’s pull for weeks now.

Cooper’s hands shifted, gliding over your ribs until they settled on the back of your shirt, and stopped.

“This alright?” he asked and pulled away enough to look down into your eyes. “Can I touch you like this?” He was respectful, but you could tell he wanted more. The way he flexed his fingers and tugged on the fabric and hovered just above the waistline of your skirt drove you mad. Feelings you hadn’t acknowledged were cascading and reverberating throughout your body—electric.

No longer surprised, you found yourself saying, “You can touch me however you like.” Cooper hummed at that and pulled you as close to him as he possibly could.

“Those’re some dangerous words…” he breathed, a small kiss on the corner of your mouth.

“I work with a cowboy for a living, I think I’ll be fine,” you replied, both smirking against each other's lips. Cooper’s hands dipped down to your ass, cupping it tightly through your skirt, a gasp-moan escaping you only for him to swallow it. He returned it, a sound deep in his vocal cords, and it spurred him on. You stumbled a little and immediately grabbed his upper arms to steady yourself, a burst of giggles tumbling from your lips.

“Y’alright?” Cooper asked amusement in his voice.

“Never made out on a dock before,” you admitted.

“Mmm,” he breathed, nose against your cheek. He pressed a kiss there as he ran his hands up your arms and intertwined your fingers. “Sit for me.” Your eyebrows furrowed, unsure about the request and feeling a tad defiant at it outside of your previous professional dynamic. Even then he didn’t ‘order’ you around. He knew better, just like now, tacking on a, “Please.”

So you slowly lowered yourself—with Cooper’s aid—onto the well-preserved wood, the slight sway of it less noticeable the moment you sat down fully. Cooper brought himself down next to you, hand instantly on the back of your neck and fingers tangled in the bottom of your hair. He pulled you to him with ease and you grabbed his sweater to ground yourself. It felt like you’d float away if you didn’t.

 You weren’t sure where this was going if this was meant to lead to anything, but you could still feel those nerves bundled in the pit of your stomach. Were you actually comfortable or was this just the rush of being in Cooper’s orbit? That magnetism that could shift an entire room’s attention to him effortlessly?

Cooper pulled at your hip lightly and, after you managed to hike up your skirt, you swung your leg over his lap to straddle him. This time it was his breath that hitched, lips detached and breath heavy. You braced yourself on his shoulders and he immediately found your hips, fingers digging into the skirt like he’d rip it off you if he could.

“Oh, Cooper,” you whispered shakily. Nothing made sense, the world was spinning, and it felt like a tether was pulled taut between your chests.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked. It was a tad raspy, a calculated question that took concentration—like his mind was focused on trying not to ravage you completely.

You glided your hand over his hair, moonlight catching on his greys and twinkling like the stars above.

“I…” you hesitated. “I’m not… Should we do this? I don’t… I don’t want to complicate things more for you.”

“You’re the least complicated thing in my life right now,” he said so definitively that it shut you up entirely. “We can slow down if you want…” Cooper took your hands in his and pressed his lips to them. “Honest, I just wanted to kiss you. Didn’t have much of a plan after that,” he said with a laugh. You could feel him under you, dress pants doing nothing to hide it, but you took a steadying breath.

“Is this—” You took a breath. “Is this just a distraction for you, Coop?”

Cooper said your name, tone laced with a tinge of sadness, and instead of pulling you closer, he grabbed your thigh to help you slide off his lap. You were a bit confused but you obliged. Did you ruin it? Whatever this was? The thought bounced around the walls of your mind as you searched his expression for any sort of negative emotion… There was none. It was soft and understanding with something lying underneath it all.

“I’m not interested in distractions,” he said. “I thought Barb was it for me… I thought I was done after the divorce. But you—” Cooper sucked air through his teeth. “I don’t know how to explain it. You ain’t some sort’a toy.”

“But I’m your assistant… It’s so… Grey.”

“You want me to fire you?” he asked lightheartedly. 

“Cooper,” you sighed. You pushed his shoulder with the hand you weren’t leaning on for balance and he reached up in time to grab your hand before you pulled away, practically enveloping it in his.

“Point I’m tryin’ to make is, if you want me to, we can stop right now. Cold turkey. No skin off my nose,” he said. As well as you knew him, you were pretty sure that wasn’t true. If he felt like you felt to any degree, it would devastate him. “But…” The grip he had on your hand tightened as he scooted closer to you, inches from your face again. “If you want to… figure this out like I do… I’ll do anything to prove I mean what I’m sayin’. Every single day you want me to, until finally you get sick of me.”

You chuckled and ran your thumb across his skin, considering his words. A one-night stand would have been hurtful in the long run but at least it was cut and dry. Feelings didn’t usually come into play or at the very least didn’t matter. This was something you were unprepared for. The way things evolved so naturally, so quickly, was terrifying. One moment your boss is just your boss, nothing more, and the next you felt yourself falling into the deep end.

“I think…” You took in a steadying breath, closing your eyes like it’d help. What might this be? Would it be something you’d regret? You weren’t sure but… “I think I might like that.”

When you opened your eyes again, Cooper’s relieved expression was the first thing you saw and you couldn’t help but smile. He kissed you again, but this time it was slow like nothing in the world mattered but your lips against his. A steady rhythm, like the light waves of the lake against the shore, and a passion you’d never known. You weren’t sure what any of it meant, but at least for now, this was a secret between you, Cooper, and the stars.

The night spent at the lake house was soft, sweet, hands kept in respectful places even when sharing a bed. It was a side you knew Cooper had, but one that was strange for you to experience. You spent the time before bed shyly shuffling around each other, Cooper offering you an extra sweater and some too-big sleep pants that didn’t match. You hadn’t realized you’d be staying overnight somewhere, but by the time you both returned to the house, lost in the quiet and comfort of each other’s embrace, it was well past midnight.

So you both laid there, quiet for the most part, facing one another, and just listening to the sound of your breaths as sleep tugged at your eyelids. Your hand had settled on Cooper's cheek and his hand found purchase on your hip.

“What’re you thinking about?” he asked you, eyes closed and voice riddled with sleep.

“You,” you managed. Sleep also tugged at you. “This.” You gently rubbed your fingertips on his cheek and he hummed a ‘mmmm’ in response.

“We can take it as slow as ya like,” he said, accent thicker. It made you smile a little, that rugged cowboy slipping through the Hollywood facade, charming and down to Earth. “I ain’t forcin’ you to do anythin’ you don’t want.”

You leaned forward and pressed a soft, sleepy kiss to his lips.

And slow it went.

The next morning was spent driving back, Cooper’s hand on your leg the entire cruise down the highway. It was nice, simple, and you placed yours over it, liking how it felt—such a simple gesture. It only lasted until you returned to the city, both of you instinctively pulling apart. No one needed to know. Not yet. This was yours to cultivate as you both pleased.

Any business you conducted, like being on set, was professional, as always. Barely a glance out of place and strictly kept what needed to be accomplished—business as usual.

When Janey was around, nothing, the same as before. It made you feel a bit strange, wary of potentially hurting her and making her home life even more complicated. You struggled with that for a bit and you’d probably struggle with it for a long time regardless of the outcome of whatever this was.

You avoided Barb as much as possible. Cooper did everything he could to drop Janey off himself or have Barb, or her assistant, or babysitter, come collect her for her shared time with her Mom. If you had to, you did so and kept any interactions brief to none at all.

But when you finally had time alone, away from all the eyes, just you and Cooper, it was extraordinary. Stolen pecks in the trailer before a scene, soft touches cooking dinner together, long, drawn-out kisses after lifting you onto his work desk, conversation by the pool with fingers intertwined and splashes of water. No matter your previous experience romantically, this was on a completely different level. Despite that nagging part of your mind that wouldn’t quiet about ‘starlets’ and ‘secrecy’ and ‘getting tired of you’, you persisted. 

Cooper was nothing if not reassuring. His sass and snark didn’t let up, but he tried his best to never be mean, even before all this, and doubly so now. An occasional present or two like flowers or something small because he knew how you loathed large gestures. Not once did he pressure you to have sex with him, though the hints were there. A slide of his fingertips just under the hem of your skirt nibbles at the top of your breasts after popping the top few buttons of your blouse, or the way he pressed up against you from behind, an innocent hug now charged as he nibbled your ear and the natural way you arched into him. But never pressure. That decision was on you, and you weren’t sure when you’d be ready for that to change.

You wanted Cooper. There was no doubt about that. It was more so Barb that kept you at bay. No matter how you two spun this story, it would never be good enough for anyone, but especially not her.

It was always going to be the ‘classic’ tale of infidelity with the woman that he spent the most time with, no matter how recent of a development those feelings were. The added pressure of her potentially wanting to take Janey away also weighed on you, and despite how clearly stressed he was because of Barb—especially with his final commercial for Vault-Tec due for filming the following week—you still relished in the quiet, gentle moments on the couch in your embrace, fireplace crackling and dogs snoring at your feet.

You wanted Cooper Howard, but you had a sinking feeling it wouldn’t come without a cost, and you weren’t sure how steep it would truly be.

“CUT! RESET!” called the director from his comfortable chair. A bell rang twice and you watched from the refreshments table as everyone on the crew sprung forward to reset the stage & fix up the actors.

You still couldn’t shake the feeling of being in one of these vaults, a big number four on the door behind Cooper where his first scene was set. It felt… unreal. A big metal fortress underground meant for a nuclear fallout felt so outlandish that if you hadn’t been here yourself, you’d have thought it was just a set built up on a soundstage. An uneasiness tugged at you when they gave you a tour of the living spaces, watching the camera crew set up in one of the rooms and a family—whose two adults were scientists—sat in makeup chairs until it was time for their scene.

Cooper was your only grounding force. During the tour he’d gently touch your back for a brief moment, pretending to just pass by you or urge you in front of him. He only lingered a little longer once when he heard you take in a shaky breath while Bud Askins and company rambled about how amazing this place was. It didn’t help that Barb was here as well to oversee the shoot. She barely acknowledged you and focused entirely on Cooper like you were a set dressing. You tried not to think about her too much though or else your shaky breaths might turn into a full on breakdown.

It was just a shoot in a location you weren’t familiar with. Everything was safe. Everything would be fine.

So when the director called for a reset, you quickly approached Cooper with a cup of black coffee for him to grab as people fussed with his hair and suit. A grateful expression crossed his face as he took a sip.

“Thank you so much,” he said, Hollywood charm still turned up to the max. While you were used to how he was on set, you couldn’t help realizing now just how much of a mask he wore for his work. Not that he wasn’t always authentically himself, but he did carry himself in a way that you didn’t see when you were alone.

“Need anything else before the next take?” you asked.

“Not anythin’ I can have right now,” he responded with a tinge of flirtation in his tone. You tensed a little, the women who were fussing over him didn’t even bat an eyelash at the comment. It was just you. He knew you were a little anxious before and was likely just trying to lighten the mood, but with him looking so dashing in his gray suit and his ex-wife was standing just at the edge of the room, eyes flicking over while she conversed with her colleagues, it was difficult to relax.

Cooper finished his coffee—the women dabbing his face and reapplying touch-ups—and you took it from him. Your fingers grazed his as you did so, a small gesture to let him know you were still there with him despite the circumstances.

“I’ll make sure to set up a reservation for you at your favorite restaurant,” you managed with a smile that he returned instantly.

“You know me so well.”

“It’s my job to,” you responded, gazing up through your eyelashes before you turned around fully to leave the shot. For the briefest of moments when you turned, you thought you caught his gaze moving downwards to your ass, but he’d returned to a recording-ready stance the moment you began to walk away.

“Alright, next take!” the director called. Everyone scattered out of the way of the cameras. “Quiet on set!”

You moved just out of frame, Cooper’s empty coffee cup in your hand, and watched him work his magic. The lights went out and once the cameras were rolling again, a singular spotlight lit on Cooper who had a fresh cigarette in his hands.

“Oh. Hello there. Yup, it’s me, Cooper Howard, star of stage and screen.”

Recording continued and, while the vault still unnerved you, you did your best to focus on Cooper. You watched between each take and tended to anything Cooper might have needed while keeping your space. The takes flew by despite how many there were and by the time you reached ‘Sycamore Street’, specifically room number 429, which was printed on a pristine mailbox, you could tell Cooper was starting to feel a bit drained by it all. So when they called for a cut, family of scientists at the table next to Cooper, you approached him with some water and a smile.

“Almost outta here, tiger,” you said to him as he took the cup of water and chugged it. He breathed out a sigh and handed it back to you.

“Kinda wish it was whiskey.”

“I’m sure they’ve got some around here somewhere if you really want,” you said.

“You’re the best,” he returned, a charming smirk on his lips. You couldn’t help but feel yours brighten at the sight and as you were about to turn and walk away from him, a voice chimed in that made your blood run cold.

“Are you done being distracted by your plaything? I’d like to get everyone out of here on time,” said Barb from the doorway, arms crossed. Silence bellowed into the room the likes you’d never experienced. Not even a breath. You felt as though someone had punched you in the chest as a deep-seated mortification rippled through your entire being.

“What was that?” Cooper asked. While his voice was a whisper, you could hear the lethality dripping from every syllable. Even his calm, cool, and collected movie star mask slipped a bit, brow furrowed and jaw locked.

“Cooper,” you warned, also in a whisper. “It’s fine, I’ll just—”

“No.” The firmness of his voice took you aback, but it wasn’t directed at you, he was locked on Barb. “Say it again.”

This man was going to burn down everything in this very moment with a camera crew and innocent bystanders to witness it. Barb adjusted her stance to match his challenging energy. One look around the room and you felt like you wanted to simply disintegrate.

“I said—” Barb tried.

“Enough!” you declared firmly. Once again you were in the middle of them and their drama, their loathing, everything. It didn’t matter though. You stepped in front of Cooper fully, not even looking at him but at Barb with a forced smile on your lips and said, “I’ll go. No problem. I think my work is done for the day anyhow.” 

Cooper said your name but you held up a hand. This was awful enough as it was, you didn’t want to give Barb any more fuel and destroy what he had going for himself today. You took a step forward and felt the graze of Cooper’s hand as he reached out for your wrist, which you promptly pulled away. Your hands were shaking at all the eyes on you but they parted as you approached the door Barb was posted by. She watched you approach and, for a moment, you considered just walking by without a word… but you heard her huff an amused sound, you decided not this time. You stopped right next to her in the doorframe, stood as tall as you could, and stared straight into her eyes.

“Barb, I want you to know that I have always had a lot of respect for you,” you started softly. “I don’t know what happened between you and Cooper, and quite frankly, at this point, I don’t care.” Barb smirked a little, like she was about to say something. “It’s your business. What I do care about is you dragging me into it and trying to make my life hell when all I wanted to do was help.” You took a step forward. “I’m not the source of your problems, Barbara. You are. So keep my goddamn name out of your mouth.”

Your heart pounded in your ears. Barb’s face was professionally cold but you knew there was anger simmering beneath her exterior. You’d embarrassed her, just as she embarrassed you, in front of all of her colleagues whose opinions she seemed to hold above everyone else’s if she thought this stunt would be cute. Jaw clenched, you turned away from her and made your way through the crowd of her coworkers. You didn’t know if Cooper was going to be upset at you, if you’d just blown up his life, or if you even had a job, all you knew was that you needed to get away from whatever the hell was back there.

So you explored further into the vault with no goal aside from getting away.

COOPER

To say Cooper was upset would be an understatement. Even with years of practice, he found it more difficult than anything to put himself back into the scene when everyone finally unfroze from their goddamn shock. He’d stared down Barb, who didn’t do the same, and instead exited the room once you’d left. If you hadn’t stopped him, he would have probably destroyed any sort of tenuous work agreement that was left between him and Barb… but he had a contract to finish.

So he did.

He shoved down all of his radiating anger and put on that showbiz smile everyone knew him for. The crew eased almost immediately once he’d done so and said, “Shall we?”

The rest of the shoot went by without a hitch and once his scenes were wrapped, he gave out handshakes and compliments until he’d finally made it out of the room. In the hallways were all of the men who’d been watching, eyes cautiously avoiding him after the fiasco with Barb, who was chatting with someone at the other end of the hall. Cooper made a b-line for her but stopped just short by—

“Mr. Howard, great work today,” the man said and reached out his hand.

“Oh, thanks. Thanks, man,” Cooper responded.

“Bud Askins. I oversee our Southern California operations—”

“Hey, sorry, could you just hold on for one second?” Cooper asked. The man blinked but nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, of course,” he answered, a bit taken aback.

Cooper’s attention immediately moved back to Barb, who hadn’t bothered looking at him despite likely hearing his approach, and he stepped between her and the person she’d been conversing with.

“‘Scuse us,” Cooper said to the man. It was firm enough that he simply nodded and moved away from the both of them, but Bud Askins still hovered nearby. Barb’s shoulders straightened once he’d left and she barely managed to look up at him. There was disdain there, something that would have hurt him to see not too long ago, but now? Now, he was pissed.

“I thought I’d been disgusted by you enough to last me a lifetime, but you just keep pilin’ on don’t you?” Cooper said. He did nothing to regulate his voice and knew that her nosey little pack of rats here in the halls would be listening.

“Coop—”

“No. Enough of this bullshit,” he said, rage hovering beneath his words. Barb’s jaw tightened, stance combative.

“You brought her to set,” she said with an empty chuckle.

“She’s my fucking assistant,” he bit back. Barb looked at him incredulously as he took another step forward. “And if she were anything else, it still wouldn’t be your business. You’re not my wife. You made that choice for us both when you chose Vault-Tec and this future—” Cooper gestured at the vault around them. “Over your family.” The room quieted again. Despite the tears welling up in the corner of Barb’s eyes, he didn’t feel sympathy. No remorse. He was too angry for any of that. “This commercial is the last of our business together, Barbara. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got someone I need to find.”

Cooper moved past Barb and further into the vault. The weight of everyone’s gazes fell on his back. He shook out his arms like it’d help release all the pain, anger, and exhaustion from his body, help him navigate this mess, but truly he just wanted to find you… Wherever you’d gone.

YOU

It was surprising just how quiet everything was in this room, unnerving if you were being totally honest. The teals and whites and pastel yellows and colorful abstract paintings gave it all a home-y feel but it couldn’t have been anything further from it. You were hyper-aware of the underlying lead, the bones of this vault, and it all just felt so… cold. Just like Vault-Tec.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been in this room, examining every little thing until your nerves finally calmed from your very public confrontation with Barb. You didn’t even know if you could face Cooper. He had to have been upset with you and your behavior, it wasn’t the time or place to confront Barb like that, and you were sure you’d sealed your fate with everyone, including him, when you opened your mouth to her.

So you sat at the shiny white dining room table, upon the brand new yellow chairs, and sobbed into your hands. Your tears dropped onto the surface, the faintest of sounds in this secluded space, and it spurred you on. Everything in your life was about to be turned upside down. Not only were you probably going to lose one of the best men you’d ever known, but your name was likely going to be the talk of the town if Barb had anything to say about it. 

The part of you that wanted to be understanding and sympathetic, wanted to excuse her actions as someone acting out of grief for her lost marriage, kept gnawing at you and imparting guilt onto your conscience. Even if you knew she was wrong for that, you still couldn’t find it in yourself to hate her. You just felt… bad for her. Even though you’d meant every word you’d said and still felt that residual flickering anger in your chest.

Now Cooper was going to lose everything because of you…

The sound of the door opening sent a jolt through you as you immediately got to your feet, fingers wiping away the tear streaks along your cheeks.

“Color me surprised when the janitor told me you were still hangin’ around down here,” Cooper’s voice rang from the doorway. You couldn’t tell if you were relieved or even more tense than before, jaw clenched.

“Cooper,” you breathed, a sad sound. You cleared your throat and adjusted your dress with shaky hands. Cooper had taken a few steps forward, as though he were testing the waters, if you wanted him to be close or not. “Sorry, I just… started walking and didn’t know where to go so I just… stopped in here to collect myself.”

“I see,” he said and inched closer, hands in his pockets. “What you think?” Cooper’s gaze shifted upwards to indicate he meant the vault. You knew he was trying to ease into a conversation with you about what happened, which gave you a bit of hope since he didn’t come in here screaming and shouting about how unprofessional that was or how everything was screwed up now. It was a relief, no matter how small.

“Cold,” you admitted. “Living behind lead walls when you’ve seen the sky is a tragedy.” Your arms folded over your chest, protective, nervous.

“That’s one way of puttin’ it,” he whispered back.

“Did I screw everything up, Cooper?” you asked suddenly, voice cracking a bit with the emotions that bubbled with every word.

“Oh, hey,” Cooper closed the distance, hands cupping your face so you’d look him in the eye. “No. My business with Barb is done, whether she likes it or not. I don’t give a damn about what she said.”

“But what about, Janey? And your contracts—”

“I’ll manage,” he insisted. “Like I always do.”

“I don’t want to be a distraction for you,” you said and tried to pull your head away, but to no avail. Cooper’s gaze intensified slightly as he pulled you back to look at him. You swallowed hard at the motion.

“I told you already, this ain’t a game for me,” he said firmly. “I don’t want to lose you because of stupid shit my ex-wife said. I can’t… You’re one of the most important people in my life.” You didn’t know what you had expected from Cooper, but it certainly wasn’t this. There was no waver in his speech, no indication that these were falsities, nothing, simply pure truths. “Until you’re sick of me,” he repeated, the phrase plucked from your memory of the lake house.

“Coop—”

There was no arguing, not with the way he kissed you. Intentional, powerful, deep, it was all present in the way he moved against you, the way one of his hands shifted to the nape of your neck and the other pressed against your lower back so that you were flushed with his own body. Your breaths floated into the quiet of the room, lost in the way you both touched and held each other, the temperature rising by the minute.

“Wait, what about—” You tried to gesture to the door that was still wide open, and, without even looking, Cooper backed you both up until his back hit the override button. The door dropped down instantly and he continued devouring your lips. Everything was spinning. “Cooper,” you gasped. His lips traveled down from your lips to your jaw, then to your neck where he bit down greedily. It earned him a moan that you couldn’t help, a blush immediately pooling on your cheeks.

“Keep making sounds like that and I might lose what little control I got left, sweetheart,” he said, all tongue and teeth against your collarbone.

“Should we? Here?” you asked breathlessly. Cooper picked his head up to look at you then, eyes glazed over and a pink tinge over his own cheeks.

“I don’t think you understand,” he said and hovered his mouth over yours. “I’d do just ‘bout anything you asked. Even here. Especially here.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that. Barb had sufficiently pissed you both off enough that you were willing to desecrate a future residence for a family you didn’t know. Any other day you’d have been the responsible one, insisted that it was inappropriate, but today, a more defiant side seemed to be in control, one Barb had conjured earlier. Even with all the guilt and sympathy you felt, your feelings for Cooper superseded them all and that flickering anger within you had settled into a spitefulness you would have never typically acted on. Until now.

Fuck being his assistant.

Fuck being just his friend.

In this moment, you wanted to be his. Entirely his.

Whatever that meant.

“What’re we waiting for then?” you asked as you gazed up through your eyelashes at him. His breath stuttered, eyes searching yours for any sign of second thoughts, but quickly cut short by the way your fingers found his belt and began undoing it.

“Don’t gotta ask me twice.”

Cooper walked you both back to the bed on the opposite side of the room, just as pristine as the rest of the unit, until you fell back onto it. You watched him as he slid off his jacket, setting it on one of the dining chairs, and undoing his cufflinks. While he rolled up his sleeves, you wiggled off your underwear, giving them a small tug when they got stuck on your heels—which were a little too difficult to take off at the moment. Cooper let out an exhale at the sight, just watching you work. So you slowed down a bit, grabbed the hem of your dress, and dragged it down your thighs.

“Goddamn,” he said with a whistle. Your heartbeat was wild, your breath uneven, and everything about you craved him. He looked so goddamn delicious in his white button-up, loose tie, and grey dress pants that were doing nothing to hide his erection. Cooper approached again but stopped just at the edge of the bed to look at you, the mess you were becoming.

“What?” you asked. Self-consciousness had started to creep in, despite knowing you didn’t need to be. Cooper gestured to you like he couldn’t believe you were there, dress hiked up and eyes expectant.

“Just… Damn,” he said. “What a sight.”

Your cheeks heated up again.

“Well, don’t leave a girl waiting,” you said. He laughed at that.

Cooper dipped down, kissing your propped-up knees, down your thighs, and nudging himself between them. Your head lolled back, heat radiating through your body. The shakiness of your hands had lessened but not gone as you reached up to undo his pants. Cooper shifted back to your neck then, grunting when you finally freed him, tugging his boxers down over his bulge.

“Shit,” he muttered, looking up at you in your eyes again. “Still sure?”

You answered by capturing his lips with yours and guiding him down to your entrance. Without hesitation, he pushed himself in and your gasp turned into a moan as he moved into you, inch by inch. While he wasn’t some egregious size, it’d been a while for you so it took a moment to acclimate, gripping his shoulders tightly until you felt his pelvis against the back of your thighs. You both stayed there for a second, drinking in each other’s presence and the sensation of him inside of you.

Cooper took a deep inhale before he pulled back a couple of inches and slammed back into you. The breath you’d taken was cut off, a beautiful sensation of pleasure trickling through your lower body and dancing upwards, setting your nerves alight. You nodded at him to continue and so he did. Sweat beaded by his brow while pleasure contorted his face.

He thrust back into you a bit harder this time. A moan tumbled from your kiss-swollen lips as you two got lost in one another, grasping at every piece of each other you could get.

Any time before this felt like ages ago, like this was where you were both meant to be and any doubts or reasons against it were out of the window that was still open for anyone to see you. As much as you still cared about being discovered like this, you were too far gone, lost in Cooper’s embrace. Vault-Tec was despicable, Barb was acting horribly… Neither of you deserved that shit.

With a bit of effort, you guided Cooper onto his back, belt jingling against the floor and bed creaking at the movement. He was just as gone as you were with your disheveled hair tumbling over your shoulders and dressed jumbled up to your hips where Cooper’s thumbs pressed into. You settled yourself over him, eyes locking, and he placed his hand on your cheek, caressing it.

“You’re so goddamn beautiful,” he managed.

You smiled as you slid yourself back down onto him. This time, it was him who moaned, a drawn-out, deep-in-his-throat type of sound that you’d never heard from him before. The grip he had on you tightened like he was holding onto the reins of a horse, attempting to be in some sort of control, but when you moved your hips, it was more like he was desperately trying to hold on.

Curses and gasps and moans filled the room, a language all your own. It felt so good that it made you delirious. One of Cooper’s hands slid up to grab your breast, kneading it through the material of your dress and bra, desperate for a new handhold. For a small moment, you could understand the appeal of this pieced-together life. This small slice of life perfectly catered for survival, the preservation of humanity through an act like this, all of it. You could understand the appeal for those who already coveted the white picket fence lifestyle. You didn’t know if this was something that could work for you, but for now, it served its purpose.

You continued to ride him and absorb the sounds that escaped him—all for you.

“Shit,” you whined just as the pressure building within you released, clenching around Cooper who groaned at the feeling.

“Y-You gotta… I’m…” he couldn’t form words but you knew. You removed yourself from him and laid beside him as he pumped one, two, three times, and released all over his hand. His chest was heaving just as much as yours. “Holy… shit…” Cooper used his free hand to rub his brow.

“Yeah,” you breathed.

There was a quiet few seconds between the two of you that was broken by Cooper’s chuckle.

“Just so you know, this ain’t how I thought this would happen,” he said.

“You and me both,” you said with a chuckle. You reached toward the bedside table to grab a tissue, an attempt to help, and he obliged, taking it from you to clean up the mess he’d made.

“I got an idea for next time.” Cooper got up and brought his pants back up, getting himself together again.

“Next time?” you asked in a playful tone, eyebrow raised.

“Sick of me already?” he asked. While he also matched your playfulness, there was something about it that sounded a tad insecure. Unusual for the Cooper Howard. You smiled at him and took the hand he offered to help you up.

“I don’t think I ever could be,” you said. He returned your smile, a sheepish boyish little thing, and placed a sweet kiss on your lips.

The moment you stepped downstairs of the Howard residence, the scent of cigarettes washed over you and the steady sound of idle chatter filled your ears. While the man whose arm you were on would garner attention naturally, it was the togetherness of your body language that drew it this time. Almost every attendee greeted the two of you, even those there to rub elbows for business, niceties and compliments abound. Even the Vault-Tec individuals that had been on set that day played nice. If Barb was there, she didn’t make it known and avoided the both of you for the entire night.

Despite being nervous about the decision to be public tonight, you found it rather easy to do. Cooper did most of the greeting and talking, refusing to stop touching you in some way unless it was for a good reason. It was sweet and you were thankful for the amount of, at least surface-level, respect that was offered to you by everyone. Of course, there was plenty of side-eye and blatantly ignoring you, but Cooper made it a point to introduce you to everyone who wanted to say hello to him unless you knew them.

At some point in the night, Sebastian approached the two of you—a kiss on the cheek for you and a firm pat on the back for Cooper. His eyebrows raised in surprise when he saw your arm looped with Cooper’s, hand resting on his bicep.

“So, finally promoted from assistant to lover—”

“Manager,” the both of you corrected. Sebastian chuckled at you both.

“She’s the only person I really listen to anyhow,” Cooper said, sipping his drink in his hand.

“Aside from Janey,” you corrected.

“Of course,” Cooper said and, to your surprise, placed a kiss on your cheek. You did your best to ignore the nosey side-eyes and smiled at Sebastian.

“Well, congratulations on your successful run with Vault-Tec, and endless happiness to you both,” Sebastian said. He and Cooper clinked their glasses before you all went back to mingling.

The wrap party continued without a hitch, which you were incredibly thankful for, and aside from the small bits of uncomfortableness, you both made it to the end of the night. Once the last guest was out of the door, the two of you retired to his bedroom.

A shared warm shower later—both in temperature and in the way Cooper pinned you against the wall with his own body to run kisses along your shoulders and upper back—you two tumbled into his bed. Your naked bodies slowly writhing against one another, Cooper enjoying you in any way he could, tongue against your clit, fingers deep inside of you, kisses along your stomach… You came undone so many times you almost forgot what century you were in.

Once you had your fill of one another for the night, you laid there like you did in the lake house, and shared soft touches and kisses. That was how you spent most of your nights now, in the comfort of each other’s embrace. Maybe the world would end one day, but as long as you had Cooper Howard, you felt you could withstand the fallout.

[wangxianficfinder]

I'm in the mood for...

Aug 21st

~*~

1. hii! ITMF fics where the cultivation world finds out the truth about the Wen remnants in burial mounds either through a memory viewing/array spying thing at a discussion conference or someone personally visiting the burial mounds and sees the truth for themselves. Some of the fics I've enjoyed that has this: A Step in the Wrong Direction by pupeez4eva, Revealing Truth by DreamNightmare, The Path by Seastar98, Green-gege Saves a lot of Lives by Eternal_writes, Righteous at a Cost by thunderwear

Teen Project to Change the World by animeloverhomura (Not Rated, WIP, 841k, WangXian, JYL/JZX, Watching the Show, With a bit of the Manhua and Book thrown in, BAMF WWX, Fix-It, JGS is his own warning, Attractive WWX, Homophobia, disturbing imagery)

Misunderstood by Silver_Flame_2724 (M, 250k, WIP, WangXian, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Heavy Angst, Suicidal Thoughts, Canon-Typical Violence, Self-Worth Issues)

Discordant Rhapsody by nirejseki (T, 49k, LQR & WWX, wangxian, JC & WWX, WQ & WWX & WN, LWJ & LQR & LXC, canon divergence, fix-it, hurt/comfort, trauma, politics, protective LQR, protective LWJ, protective WWX, LQR centric, whump, angst)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, WangXian, canon divergence, yiling wei sect au, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, fix-it of sorts)

while covered in mud by merthurlin (T, 12k, NHS & WWX, NHS & NMJ, NHS & Wen remnants, mentioned wangxian, canon divergence, fix-it, NHS goes farming and Hates It)

~*~

2. Hi! I could have sworn there were reaction fics where both the older wangxian and younger wangxian were there but I can't find any right now, could you help me?

~*~

3. Hi!!!!! Itmf request for any fics where LWJ is uber powerful and pampers the hell out of WWX but the focus isn't on smut? I don't mind sex being included,I just don't want it to be 90% of the fic or the driving plot point! Thank you!!! <3

我的皇后是農民 | sowing seeds in the cold palace by sweetlolixo (E, 84k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Imperial Consort WWX, Farmer WWX, Angst, Romance, Wingman LJY, Wife-chasing-LWJ, Arranged Marriage, Best Boy A-Yuan)

願陛下 | by his majesty's decree by sweetlolixo (E, 40k, WangXian, Imperial Palace, Emperor LWJ, Concubine WWX, Harems, Pining LWJ, LWJ is not a dragon in this one but he descended from them :), Childhood Sweethearts (sort of), Romance, minimal angst, Happy Ending, NHS & WWX are concubine BFFs, LWJ has NO EYES for anyone besides WWX don’t worry the harem is only for the plot setting, Fantasy, Pregnant WWX, Possessive LWJ, Fluff)

To Deliver an Heir by cerbykerby (E, 49k, WangXian, slight dubcon/noncon but wangxian are into it, A/B/O, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Heat Sex, Knotting, Royalty Medical, Emperor LWJ, Physician WWX, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Breeding, Creampie, LWJ literally cannot stop himself from coming in WWX, Breastfeeding)

~*~

4. Any good outside pov fics? ITMF any fic where a character sees wangxian's bond or is surprised at how much wwx can get away with irt the rules with lwj. Just... Idrc about the plot, I just wanna see some reactions to wangxian lol! Preferably not a modern or no cultivation au tho, I love the canon universe too much!!

pitfalls of greed by glitteringmoonlight (T, 3k, WangXian, POV Outsider, BAMF WWX, Kidnapping, Violence, YLLZ WWX, not exactly but the vibes are there, Post-Canon)

The following are time travel fics but involve outsiders being astonished by Wei Wuxian & Lan Wangji's behavior towards each other

trouble with time by cloudpd (T, 5k, WangXian, Time Travel, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, POV Outsider, Humor, POV JC, he's so fed up with wangxian, rightfully so, wangxian are shameless, kind of crack, JC's inner dialogue for this whole fic is just: what the fuck, POV LXC, because LXC deserves to be subjected to gross wangxian as well!!, the third chapter is LJY going "WWX rights!!", and that's all im going to say about that, horny wangxian time travel: the thrilling conclusion)

Wait, What? by MarbleGlove (G, 1k, WangXian, Time Travel, POV Outsider)

the world is but a stage for the two of us by MandMandM (Not Rated, 10k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel, Established Relationship, Shameless WangXian)

~*~

5. Hello, can i get wangxian fic recs where meng yao is a good guy and close friends with wei wuxian? canonverse, modern day, etc doesn't matter. I'd also love wangxian recs where they adopt jingyi please <3

Meng Yao becomes more like a brother to Wei Ying than a close friend so I hope these are okay:

what builds a home by Stratisphyre (T, 45k, WangXian, MY & WWX, Canon Divergence, Adopted WWX, POV Multiple, warning for JGS behaving exactly as expected, child endangerment, Brother Feels, Minor Character Death, [Podfic] Cold read of "what builds a home" by Stratisphyre by KeriArentikaiPods (KeriArentikai))

and

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.) (link in 8C)

Meng Yao vs. the Board of the Homeowner's Association Series by Ariaste (M/T, 119k, WIP, XiYao, WangXian, Modern AU, Established Relationship, xiyao and wangxian are both already married, Family Feels, Domestic Fluff, Family Bonding, Slice of Life, Discussions of Past Trauma, wwx's canonical kinks, HOAverse)

~*~

6. Hello! I finished reading Digging Graves by nirejseki so i am itmf any fics where someone asks/begs wei wuxian to bring someone back to life/turn someone they loved who died into a fierce corpse. Thanks :D

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Road trips, rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, Awkward Conversations, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin)

~*~

7. Hi! for the next itmf, i was wondering if there are any fics where wei wuxian gets his core back after giving it to jiang cheng? not him cultivating a new core but getting his original core back

i just find that idea fascinating. thank you for your help always!!

A Child’s Wish by Hauntcats (Not rated, 13k, wangxian, WWX & Wen remnants, Celestial meddling, Not JC Friendly, Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Everyone gets what they deserve, Age Regression/De-Aging, Child LWJ)

💖 Return to Sender by Thesaurus_with_no_words (M, 73k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, BAMF WWX , WangXian Get a Happy Ending, YLLZ WWX, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Not Everyone Dies, canon JC characteristics, Temporary Amnesia, Partial Memory Loss, Literal Emotional Manipulation, Unreliable Narrator, Unreliable Narrator WWX, they are all unreliable ok, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Canon-Typical Violence, Canon typical horror and gore, Slow Burn)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

Can’t Tell Me Nothin by natacup82 (T, 35k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Family Feels, Communication, BAMF Women)

~*~

8. Hello! itmf these three types of fics:

A) canonverse, Madam Lan lives, wangxian (i didnt know madam lan lives was a tag now I need to see how her existence in canon can change the storyline and wangxian as a whole)

B) Yiling Wei Sect fics (could be wangxian or other wei wuxian M/M ships)

C) Fics where Wei Wuxian takes disciples (whether as Yiling Wei sect Yiling Patriarch or any other reason... preferably xue yang or mo xuanyo)

8A)

💖 An Unexpected Visitor by Hauntcats (G, 8k, QHJ/Madam Lan, wangxian, fix-it of sorts, not Jiang friendly, not jin friendly, happy ending)

Every Mother's Son by Chrononautical (T, 11k, WangXian, Madam Lán Lives, Madam Lán Deserves Better, Madam Lán Leaves Cloud Recesses, Madam Lan rescues women from abusive husbands in feudal Japan and honestly that's so valid of her, mentions of rape/non-con between Madam Lan & Qingheng-Jun)

no step had trodden black by Stratisphyre (T, 32k, wangxian, LQR & WWX, JYL/JZX, canon divergence, madam lan lives, past rape, golden core reveal, hurt/Comfort, referenced to attempted suicide & suicidal thoughts, canon-typical violence)

8B)

🔒 a star called sun by thelastdboy (E, 120k, wangxian, SL/XXC, JC & JYL & WWX, JYL & LWJ, WWX & WN & WQ, JYL/JZX, Canon Divergence after Xuanwu Cave, Fall of Lotus Pier, But worse!, Power Imbalance, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Not Everyone Dies AU, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Sunshot Campaign, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst with a Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Major Character Injury, Loss of Limbs, Chronic Illness, Seizures, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Wēn Remnants Live, Wēn Remnants Deserve Better, WWX Creates a Sect | Yílíng Wèi Sect, Additional Warnings In Author’s Note, Hurt/Comfort, Selectively Mute LWJ, Service Animals, Crows)

body and soul by TooSel (E, 41k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Marriage Proposal, Everyone Lives AU, Cultivation Sect Politics, Yílíng Wèi Sect AU, Adoption, Smut, Friends to Lovers, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Grave dirt by esama (T, 92k, WangXian, canon divergence, yiling wei sect au, demonic cultivation, farming, found family, pre-slash, politics, fix-it of sorts)

💖🔒 love, in fire and blood by cicer (E, 360k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Arranged Marriage, political scheming, Gratuitous Domesticity, Mutual Pining, EXTREME SLOWBURN, the inherent eroticism of the forehead ribbon, The Mortifying Ordeal of Being Known, neither wwx nor lwj want to be Perceived, but sorry kids! it’s gonna happen!, rated E but the the NSFW stuff doesn’t begin until chapter 19!, bottom LWJ in chapter 20 and 27, Mojo’s post)

Run Off The World by Sapphire_Roses (M, 302k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, SL/XXC, WIP, Not Everyone Dies AU, Canon Divergence, Wen Remnants Live, Flashbacks, YLLZ WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Sect Leader WWX, Married WangXian, OCs, POV Outsider, Morally Grey Characters, (Do Take That Tag Seriously), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Gusu Siblings Feels, Sibling Bonding, Pining, Character Study, Tenderness, Mild Smut, POV Alternating, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Minor Character Death) link in #8C

the sea meets the moon-blanched land by rkivees (G, 44k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, YLLZ WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Childhood Trauma, Sect Leader WWX, BAMF WWX, BAMF LWJ, BAMF WQ, Good Parent LQR, First Love, Love Confessions, minor jiang sibs appearance, Mentioned LXC, Past Child Abuse, Drunken Shenanigans, Past Violence, No Golden Core Transfer, Non-Linear Narrative)

8C)

Debts of a Child Part 2 by Hauntcats (M, 111k, WangXian, YZY Bashing, Not Jiang Family Friendly, Angst and Feels, lots of anger, JC Bashing, not Jiang friendly, Angst with a Happy Ending, Content warning for icky spiders in later chapters., hurt no comfort for Jiang siblings.)

Run Off The World by Sapphire_Roses (M, 302k, wangxian, JYL/JZX, SL/XXC, WIP, Not Everyone Dies AU, Canon Divergence, Wen Remnants Live, Flashbacks, YLLZ WWX, WWX Creates a Sect | Yiling Wei Sect, Sect Leader WWX, Married WangXian, OCs, POV Outsider, Morally Grey Characters, (Do Take That Tag Seriously), Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Family Feels, Developing Friendships, Fluff, Attempt at Humor, Yunmeng Siblings Feels, Gusu Siblings Feels, Sibling Bonding, Pining, Character Study, Tenderness, Mild Smut, POV Alternating, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Minor Character Death)

🔒necromancy is a valid career path! Series by coslyons, Skadiseven (T, 41k, WangXian, XY & WWX & WN & WQ, Modern with Magic AU, Seattle, Necromancy, Found Family, Food as a Metaphor for Love, Gardens & Gardening, Mathematics, Running, Growing up)

~*~

9. Heyo, this is for ITMF!

Can you rec any fics that have WWX return to his old body? Can be post-canon or during canon after his resurrection. I wanna see how people react to him being in his Glorious Beautiful Sexy self :>

Transcend by covalentbonds (not rated, 7k, WIP, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff and Humor, Smut, YLLZ WWX is prettiest fight me) features Wei Ying transforming into his original body and being lusted after.

Tripped at Every Step by brooklinegirl (E, 28k, WangXian) These

the hidden source is the watchful heart by o_honeybees (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Getting Together, Domesticity, Touch-Starved, Grief/Mourning, Misunderstandings, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Unresolved Sexual Tension,Eventual Smut, reflections on selfishness and selflessness) fics

This House of Ill Repute by Jo Lasalle (Jo_Lasalle) (M, 13k, WangXian, First Time, Post-Canon, Getting Together) also have Wei Ying in his original body but it's not the focus of the story

Saw My Life in a Stranger's Face by timetoboldlygo (T, 27k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Married Life, Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, wwx's face changes post-canon to look like his original face, Slight Panic Attack, because lwj doesn't recognize his husband, the mortifying ordeal of not knowing your own body, the terrifying inevitability of change, taller!wwx theory)

~*~

10. hello! thank you for the work you do.. do you have recs for novel canon only (no cql) fics?

~*~

11. hello this is for itmf! do you have any fics where sizhui remembers wei wuxian after the fever/doesn't lose his early memories, or lan wangji making the effort to talk about wei wuxian to sizhui? thank you!

although my mind is young, it is not gentle by everythingispoetry ( T, 27k, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Disability, Parenthood, Growing Up, Family Dynamics, Character Study, Self-Discovery) Sizhui doesn't really know who he remembers about but there are moments of him remembering wei wuxian through dreams

~*~

12. I was rewatching the show recently and got to the scene where the Lan juniors and LWJ all stood in front of WWX when Jin Ling approached him in the caves after the stabbing. I was wondering for ITMF if there were any fics where the juniors are protective of WWX? Preferably if Sizhui is a prominent character in the fics, but I'll take any junior being protective tbh. Thank you!

🧡 the stone-filled sea by yukla (T, 9k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Post-Canon, senior wei defense squad, a study of the way prejudice and injustice and anger trickle down from generation to generation)

bespoke by cafecliche (G, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, LSZ is a very good boy, which is specifically a tag for the fic but also just true in general, mostly novel-compliant but could easily be CQL-compliant too)

🔒 The Absolutely True Story of the Yiling Patriarch: A Manifesto in Many Parts by aubreyli (T, 19k, WangXian, In-Universe RPF, Romance Novel, LJY’s sense of justice, OYZZ’s sense of romance, Featuring a surprise appearance by WWX’s oft-absent sense of shame, Look the ducklings just want their sort-of dads to be happy okay?, And it’s not like WWX or LWJ are doing a good job of ensuring their own happiness, LJY rejects canon reality and substitutes his own, highly relatable actually, Post-Canon Fix-It, primarily drama-canon with cameos from novel-canon, Podfic Available, Russian Translation Available)

one of our own by glitteringmoonlight (G, 7k, WangXian, Post-Canon, POV Outsider, 5+1 Things) has Lan Jingyi, as well as other Lans, standing up for Wei Ying.

~*~

13. Wwx as royal prince with hidden identity

~*~

14. Wwx gets badly hurt while protecting jzx during jl 100 day celebration

the breaking of your soul (upon my lips) by sunsandships (M, 40k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Mutual Pining, Golden Core Reveal, Happy Ending) Wei Ying gets badly injured at Qiongqi Path while protecting Jin Zixuan in chapter 8 but Wei Ying was escorting betrothal gifts from the Jin, rather than attending Jin Ling's celebration.

Cradle by Dragonesque (T, 196k, WIP, Canon Divergenc, Adopted children, Yiling Wei Sect, BAMF WWX) Wwx gets badly hurt while protecting jzx during jl 100 day celebration - cradle by dragonesque on ao3 (and its inspiration fic) both feature wwx getting badly hurt and origins of yiling wei sect

~*~

15. I finished reading a wangxian oneshot in which lan xichen tries to get wei wuxian in his bed but fails and so...itmf lan xichen/wei wuxian, nie mingjue/wei wuxian, wen ruohan/wei wuxian fic recs. Preferably complete with bottom wei wuxian if they have smut. Thank you!!

The Joke of Fate by ShallChair (E, 357k, LXC/WWX, Canon Divergence, Marriage First Love Later, Love at First Sleep, Smut, First Time, First Kiss, the Flower Banquet's timeline is before Baifeng Mountain hunt so, Comedy, a little bit humor in the lines, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, The man who succeeds in both Love and Career-LXC, Dark LXC, Dark LWJ, The Dark side mean "Fuck off Cultivation World!", The Exchange of Fate, LXC-centric, DoubleJade centric, The one who stands against the world-LXC; A/B/O, Alpha LXC, Omega WWX, Alpha LWJ, Mpreg, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mating Bites, Scenting, Historical, Royalty, Arranged Marriage, Slight Drama, Bad Parent YZY, Cultivation Empire, Alpha NHS, Older NHS, The flustered Alpha and the handsome Omega, Half Lime Half Plot, YLLZ era, YLLZ WWX, The Thirsty LXC, Martial Arts AU, Wuxia AU, General WWX, Emperor LXC, Qianyuan, Kunze, Zhongyong, Enemy to lover, Concubine WWX, BAMF WWX, Precognitive Dream, the Second elopement, Wen Remnants Live, Burial Mounds Settlement Days, Intervention From the Outside World, Teleportation, Sunshot Campaign, Those Days When LXC Chased After YLLZ All Over the Central Plain)

~*~

16. itmf some wwx & jzx bonding similar to 'watch what we'll become' by glitteringmoonlight modern/canon/au it doesn't matter just give me that sweet sweet friendship/brotherly bonding

🧡 Stunted, Starving Juvenility by TomatenMark (E, 828k, WangXian, WIP, Fix-it of sorts, Talisman master WWX, Not JFM Friendly, Study Arc, Getting together, Fluff and Angst, Engagement)

atlas in his sleepin’ by anatheme (E, 48k, WangXian, XuanLi, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, Reincarnation, Family Reunions, Dimension Travel, temporary transmigration, Transmigrator!LWJ, Yunmeng Shuangjie Reconciliation, jzx motherhenning wwx, First Time, Sharing Clothes, Angst with a Happy Ending, Somebody Lives/Not Everyone Dies)

~*~

17. itmf a fic where wangxian get horny about "ruining" a hole. You know, there's penetration, or a lot of penetration, and the body is different afterwards. Idc who bottoms, omegaverse, consent, whatever. But no underage please. Thanks!

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

[leoserblog]

Ok this might be an unpopular opinion but someones gotta say it...

Cassandra is a better Casey Jones than Casey Jr

Ive gotta be honest... i think casey jr is a kinda mid and i dont particularly think all the fanfare about him is warranted LOL

I want to note real quick that i dont DISLIKE him! He is a good character who only got as much development that a 2 hour movie could give him, and he filled and satisfied the role he needed to play in the movie, but the way the fandom latched onto him over the og casey... kinda makes me raise a brow

(Essay/rant about the prioritization of casey jr vs og casey under the cut :P)

Fandom spaces love a traumatized boy from the future, and believe me i do too! But the amount of attention given to casey jr after being revealed as casey is a wild amount compared to the amount of attention the original casey gets. Maybe its just me getting into rottmnt after the movie aired, but this seems a little baised?

Not only that, but the amount of... idk the best way i can think to describe it is infantilization of casey jrs character isnt helping my opinion of him. It feels like most content surrounding him babify him and reduce him only to his trauma post movie. I understand that it can be interesting to explore his trauma now that he no longer lives in the literal apocalypse, but it feels strange to see him reduced to someone who cant get around on his own and lives with the turtles when the original pitch for the movies ending has him leave to explore the world, which i feel is very appropriate for him and wish they had kept it in

In the movie when april shows us where the og casey has been and what shes been doing throughout the film, it tells us that casey is friends april which in theory, shouldve also shown us that she and the turtles are friends to some degree as well and should already have her place established within the group as this generations casey jones

However the final shot of the movie is a group shot of the family+casey jr, which subtlety implies that he's the new casey instead, and that this is the main cast moving forward (should it move forward *sob*). While both caseys being considered in the main cast could be true, it does strike me as a little odd that this was the final direction the rot team decided on for the official ending versus the scrapped ending, especially because it complicates the pre-established canon. It wouldve been one thing if our og casey was a different character, but that isnt the case.. y... (<_<)

Casey jr is an interesting character though! And i can understand why he appeals to fans, especially as his character post movie is fun to expand on aswell as developing his past involved with future versions of the main5, but one (me lol) could argue that the og casey is just as interesting of a character to delve into as she was involved, when you boil it down, a cult most of her life, and that concept, as well as the guilt she could hold for working with the foot and releasing the shredder, ontop of trying to befriend and gain the turtles and aprils trust are also intriguing concepts that could be explored, yet finding content that mentions her at all beyond her relation to casey jr is scarce

It feels as though shes been reduced to a background character within the fandom despite being a reoccuring character for the entire show.

For the two seasons of rottmnt that we did get, we are shown just what kind of character casey is and her possible dynamics with the turtles+april. Shes passionate and powerful and beyond determined to prove her worth and reach her goals. Shes also playful and reckless, a side that fits well with the main cast and their humor and, if the show was given more time, couldve developed naturally as the newest addition to the family as most caseys are. I could also argue that her characterization fits that of previous caseys more than casey jrs does (though i will admit that considering the plot of the movie, i cant positively say what hed be like outside of life or death scenarios, but i also cant imagine hes going to make a 180 in personality without it feeling jarring and ooc)

Now, i wont ignore the fact that her arc was cut horribly short and her involvement in the movie was quite literally a brief mention, both of which definitely play into how under appreciated she is. But at the same time it almost feels like everyone, including the show runners, have willingly pushed her aside for this new boy version to fill the role of casey jones. Hell, even when you look up rottmnt casey jones, cassandra barely shows up. Its casey jr which further proves my point

Idk, TLDR im pretty disappointed that despite being a consistent character for the entire show, no one seems to write or acknowledge her and if she is mentioned, its only relevant to push forward casey jrs character development or a brief cameo. As much as i do love casey jr (i can feel like hes mid and i can like him!) it seems like most people forget about the original casey, or favor casey jr in her place and she deserves more love and credit than shes given!

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

The only way i could see Canon Katara interested on Zuko is if he somehow did his Heel Turn long before the start of the show and has become a freedom fighter akin to Jet, but without the murder.

Obviously, this is impossible, there is no way that a young Zuko could become a better person without his exile, his enviroment is just not place that encourage

Sorry for the last question i send, i made a mistake and send it sooner than i wanted.

But anyway, what i tried to say that, even if that ridiculous scenario that i propossed where to happen, Zuko would be a very different characther from his Canon self. Plus even if he has become Katara's type, there is no way to know if Katara would be Zuko's type on that scenario lol

***

Once again, guys: pre-scar and exile Zuko was already dealing with a ton of bagagge, and post-redemption Zuko was already a "freedom fighter but without the murder." Katara saw him at this worst during all of book one, at his somewhat less of dick moments (Ba Sing Se), and at his best after his redemption - and she wasn't attracted to him at any of these points.

"I don't support war, genocide and/or murder" is the bare minimum for Katara to not want somebody dead. Compassion is an obligation, not something that immediately makes a guy be a potential boyfriend in her eyes.

We have the answer of what would take for her to be into Zuko, and that answer is not "He can't be a villain anymore" but rather "He can't be Zuko." He can't be a dork that says the wrong thing in a funny way, she'd get mad. He can't want to live in the Fire Nation, there's nothing there for her. He can't be as stubborn as she is, otherwise they're gonna fight (just look at how many times she fights with Toph). He can't take himself too seriously, she'll just mock him for it (ask Sokka).

She wants the guy that literally sweeps her off her feet to charm her, or the guy that notices she's feeling left out at a party, dances with her, and smoothly tells her to ignore everyone's eyes on them because "it's just you and me." She would NOT react well to a guy that screams "SHE'S NOT MY GIRLFRIEND!" in the middle of their date (just see how well it worked for Aang when he went "I mean, if it was between kissing you and dying")

And we do know what Zuko's type is: Mai. Gloomy yet sweet, bitchy yet unbothered, out-spoken yet doesn't feel she owes anybody any explanations ever, can handle herself but likes being pampered, apathetic yet caring, has nothing prove yet can be quite arrogant, stubborn yet understanding, aloof to the world in general yet obviously crazy about him in particular.

Zuko might catch brief feelings for someone like Jin (nice, sweet and cheery), but long-term he needs someone as messy as himself so he can relate, but with the kind of mess that balances him out instead of encouraging his worst traits - the yin to his yang. He was not kidding when he said "You're so beautiful when you hate the world"

Katara loves life in general too much for her and Zuko to relate to each other in that regard. She doesn't even know what the word "apathy" means. She doesn't have an "unbothered" bone in her body. Girl went through a ton of trauma and still wasn't anywhere near gloomy, quite the contrary. And she has a bad temper, just like Zuko, which they both know is a bad combo, hence them surrounding themselves with more chill people (Aang, Iroh, Hakoda, Mai, etc).

They're not each other's type AT ALL, hence there being no spark when they become friends. Hence them being not just embarassed, but weirded our and uncomfortable when people mistake them for a couple.

There's a reason zutara fics re-write their personalities completely: there's no other way to force them together because they're fundamentally incompatible. The real Zuko would NEVER be attracted to the real Katara, and vice versa.

[igetthedisneybox]

In your next gen Encanto au, who gets along with who the best and why?

(Between the cousins, their parents and grandparents or whatever you'd like to do).

Decided to format it where I say their friend group, their "favorite" kid/grandkid/sibling/cousin.

Of course, by "favorite" I mean "person they get along with best/ spend the most time with" but that's long and complicated to say.

No one actually has "favorites" is what I'm trying to say (except for a few of them lol)

Alma: She hangs out with the other elders of the village, including Señora Guzmán. Once Raimi and his side of the family get introduced into the Encanto, she also spends a lot of time with them. Out of her kids, Bruno is the favorite, no question. She spends a lot of time making amends with him. Similarly, her favorite grandkid is now Mirabel. Great-grandkid wise, I'd say her favorite is either Zoe or Mariana.

Julieta: She has a handful of friends in the village, but she seems like the type of person to focus on having a small circle of close friends, rather than a lot. She's close with Augustín's mother, but not so much his father (they have a terse relationship). She claims not to have a favorite child, but like...it's Mirabel, come on. She also claims to not have a favorite grandchild, but she and Fuega bond over cooking.

Pepa: Pepa has a lot of friends from the village, including Félix's brother, Gabriel. Her favorite child is Camilo (he's a mama's boy) and she's...less subtle about it than Julieta is. Her favorite grandchild is easily her "twin" Leta, the first grandbaby, no matter how many heart attacks she gives her.

Bruno: Bruno slowly but surely acquires a small friend group upon his return (mainly with Pepa and Julieta's help). It's only about four or five people (which includes both Amelia and Sofía's crushes' parents), which is just fine by him. He also claims not to have a favorite child, but he empathizes with Sofía a lot.

Augustín: He's kind of a nerd, and so doesn't have many friends outside of the Madrigals. He mainly spends time with Julieta and her friend group. He doesn't have a favorite child, he loves his girls equally, but his favorite grandchild is probably Lidia. He likes her sass, okay?

Félix: He's very popular among the townsfolk, and has more friends than even Pepa. His favorite child is Dolores, but the only two people who know are Pepa and Mariano (because he threatened Mariano with death if he ever hurt his baby girl). His favorite grandchild is José. They have the same personality.

Isabela: She has many friends around the village, including Maria (Fuega's mom) and Lili. Most of them were made either after she dropped her "Señorita Perfecta" persona, or from before she felt pressured to be perfect. Her favorite parent is actually Augustín, and her favorite sibling is probably Mirabel, let's be real. Her favorite cousin is Dolores (I would DIE for their friendship). She actually doesn't have a favorite of her girls, not even a secret one.

Dolores: Poor Dolores doesn't have many friends. It's hard for her to be social with her gift, and she's gained a reputation for being a snitch. She is close with Mariano's sisters and brothers, though. Her favorite parent is Félix, and her favorite sibling is Antonio (Camilo's not offended, as Antonio is also his favorite sibling). Her favorite cousin is Isa. Her favorite kid is Andrés, and she is not subtle about it.

Luisa: She never really had a lot of time for friends pre-Encanto movie, so all of her friends were made post-Encanto. She's kind of socially awkward, like her dad, so she doesn't have a lot of them. Her favorite parent is Augustín (I loved their few interactions in canon) but she refuses to have a favorite sibling. Her favorite cousin is Antonio though. Her favorite child is Zoe, just because she gives her less heart attacks than the twins.

Camilo: He had tons of friends pre-Encanto, but lost quite a few of them when he started using his gift less. He made some more (including his future husband) when the city joined the village, though. His favorite parent is Pepa (Mama's boy Camilo is sacred to me). His favorite sibling is Antonio, and his favorite cousin is Mirabel. Everyone thinks that Camilo's favorite kid would be José or Héctor, but it's actually Hugo.

Mirabel: She has a little friend group, mainly consisting of the older siblings of the Encanto's children and Mariano's family. Her favorite parent is Julieta, favorite sibling is Isabela (now, anyway) and her favorite cousin is obviously Antonio (cue offended Camilo noises). She tries not to have favorites, but she can't help but sympathize with Óscar.

Antonio: He's friends with Little Alejandra, Juancho, Cecilia, and some of the other kids in town. His favorite parent is Félix, but he doesn't have favorite siblings. His favorite cousin is Mirabel.

For the next gen, I already put who they like best from each generation in their profiles, so I just copied those from them. (because I got lazy)

Miranda: She is very popular with the Encanto's kids, as she likes to babysit them. Her favorite parent is Alejandra, just because she knows how much she's sacrificed for her. She doesn't have a favorite sibling, she loves Amelia and Sofia equally. Her favorite cousin is Antonio, over their shared love of animals, and her favorite second cousin is Héctor, because he always sticks to her while they do their chores.

Amelia: She has many, many friends in the village, including her girlfriend, Rosana. She doesn't have a favorite parent, but Miranda is her favorite sister. Her favorite cousin is Camilo, due to their shared love of performing, and her favorite second cousin is Princesa, because they both are more girly.

Sofía: She doesn't have many friends due to her gift, but she hangs out with her crush, Tristán, and his little friend group. Her favorite parent is Bruno, since they're so similar, and her favorite sister is Miranda, since she doesn't think Amelia likes her very much. Her favorite cousin is Dolores, as they like to be quiet together. Her favorite second cousin is Óscar, as they like to bitch to each other all the time.

Princesa: She is very popular in the Encanto, mainly due to her gift, which makes a lot of her 'friends' flaky, at best. Her favorite sister is Mariana, due to her being afraid of Fuega. Her favorite of the grandkid generation is Mirabel, over their shared love of sewing and embrodery, and her favorite cousin is Beatriz, because they like to gossip to each other.

Fuega: She doesn't have many friends, mainly due to her gift. She does hang out with Felicidad and her friends, though. Her favorite sister is Mariana, due to Princesa being afraid of her. Her favorite pf the grandkid generation is Luisa, because she's tough and Fuega isn't afraid to burn her, and her favorite cousin is Andrés, because he helped her and Felicidad get together.

Mariana: She is popular in the Encanto, mainly with the younger kids. She doesn't have a favorite sister, she loves them both equally. Her favorite of the grandkid generation is Mirabel, because they are VERY much alike, and her favorite cousin is Rómulo, because they like to do crazy stunts with their powers together.

Leta: She is popular in the Encanto, in part due to her gift. She doesn't have a favorite sibling, though many would argue that it's Carlos. Her favorite of the grandkid generation is Luisa, because they are VERY much alike, and her favorite cousin is Lidia, because they like to wrestle and be idiots together.

Andrés: He has almost zero friends, due to his shyness. His favorite sibling(s) is the twins, just because they're so cute. His favorite of the grandkid generation is Antonio, due to their shared quietness, and his favorite cousin is Fuega, mainly because they just match well. Firey anger and quiet shyness.

Carlos: As the resident black market dealer, he is very, very, very popular in the Encanto, especially with the younger kids. His favorite sibling is easily Leta, though the twins are a close second. His favorite of the grandkid generation is Camilo, because. Obviously, and his favorite cousin is José, because they're like two peas in a pod, despite the age difference.

Avila: She is mildly popular in the Encanto, despite her odd gift. Her favorite sibling is Carlos, because he gives her free stuff. Her favorite of the grandkid generation is Antonio, because ANIMALS, and her favorite cousin is Héctor, because they like to play futbol together.

Amada: She is pretty popular in the Encanto, along with her twin. Her favorite sibling is Carlos, because he gives her free stuff. Her favorite of the grandkid generation is Isabela, because FLOWERS, and her favorite cousin is Tomás, because they like to watch each other do tricks with their powers.

Tomás: He is pretty popular in the Encanto, along with his twin. His favorite sibling is Zoe, because he and Rómulo are both in agreement that she is their favorite. His favorite of the grandkid generation is Isabela, since he likes all her weird plants, and his favorite cousin is José, because they both like playing mind games (of a different kind, but still)

Rómulo: He is pretty popular in the Encanto, along with his twin. His favorite sibling is Zoe, because he and Tomás are both in agreement that she is their favorite. His favorite of the grandkid generation is Antonio, since he lets Parce and the other big cats race him, and his favorite cousin is Mariana, because they like to do crazy stunts with their powers together.

Zoe: She doesn't have many friends, mainly due to her gift. She doesn't have a favorite between her brothers. Her favorite of the grandkid generation is Isabela, because she loves her bright dresses and plants, and her favorite cousin is Hugo, because of all his buggy friends.

Hugo: He doesn't have many friends, mainly due to autism. He doesn't have a favorite between his brothers (it's Héctor). His favorite of the grandkid generation is Dolores, because they're both quiet, and his favorite cousin is Zoe, because she is adorable.

José: He is unpopular with adults, but popular with the kids. He doesn't actually have a favorite of his brothers. His favorite of the grandkid generation is Isabela, because she kinda sorta encourages his gambling, and his favorite cousin is Carlos, because they're like two peas in a pod, despite the age difference.

Héctor: He is pretty popular in the Encanto, mainly because of his gift. His favorite sibling is Hugo, because he looks up to him. His favorite of the grandkid generation is Antonio, since their gifts are similar, and his favorite cousin is Miranda, because she acts so kind and motherly to him.

Óscar: He has almost zero friends, due to his scary gift. He doesn't have a favorite of his sisters, he loves them both. His favorite of the grandkid generation is Dolores, due to their shared...odd quirks, and his favorite cousin is Sofía, because they like to bitch to each other. He acts more like a protective older brother to Sofía.

Beatriz: She is mildly popular in the Encanto, but her gift stops her from being truly liked. She has no favorite sibling (for real). Her favorite of the grandkid generation is Dolores, because their gifts and the reaction their gifts get are similar, and her favorite cousin is Amelia, because they like to dance and sing together.

Lidia: She is pretty popular in the Encanto, although some of the adults are nervous at her behavior. Her favorite sibling is Óscar, and Beatriz is slightly bitter about it. Her favorite of the grandkid generation is Luisa, because they both act tough, and her favorite cousin is Leta, because they like to wrestle and be idiots together.

[neverpathia]

I'm just assigning weapons to the voices and vessels because I am a fantasy nerd like that. [WARNING: LONG ASS POST]

(alternative title: watch nevvey lose his mind over random blades and not-blades, and lie about being esoteric for who-knows-how-long minutes straight. gets exponentially both longer and worse the more you read.)

(@/phospolipid-bilayer influenced too many of these things by accident thanks to their lobotomy corporation series thing going on)

(this is also mainly for my AU, I guess)

-- -- -- -- --

Hero - basic ass yee yee sword

Hunted - a kinda primitive cross between a mace and a spear? but it's really more like claws and teeth grafted to a sharpened stick. lord of the flies core and all.

okay i can also see him using a crossbow and bolts, or perhaps tribal darts. i don't really think he'd want to approach a potential threat up close. he'd prefer to shoot from beneath the concealments of foliage instead. singular fangs attached to splintered branches, whittled to straight implements of death, of defense. i kinda like this one more to be honest.

Beast/Den - no shit sherlock she already has pre-ordered weapons. claws. fangs. hack and slash and gore and tear.

Opportunist - switchblade. one that's small and easily concealed up his sleeve. the hilt is gilded with gold and embedded with emeralds because he's flashy like that. the thing's probably also soaked with some sort of venom for added inconvenience, though the blade is probably too small and thin by itself to actually be majorly dangerous.

(someone on discord suggested that he'd use a stiletto or cinquadea hidden up his boot instead and that's a pretty valid take, fuck that's cool as shit you brilliant brilliant fella, but i'm still kinda attached to my own take lol.)

Witch/Thorn - I mean she does canonically use her claws but I feel like I wanna lean more into the magic-user aspect of her. probably a sort of wand, that's also small and easily concealed up her sleeve like oppy's knife. greatest affinity with trees and roots and grass and the like. also easily smacked in someone's face and shoved down their throat or nose if needed. probably bladed at one end too, even if it does cut her a little when she's hiding it.

side note: she's definitely going to be amazing with poisons. would be able to pinpoint every single one of them, and she knows more specimens and symptoms than even the resident para(noid)medic. why? no reason. she's just a witch.

Wild - do I even need to. nerve root strangulation???

Skeptic - I mean he's a detective, so honestly?

OH. okay. good cop, I see you. cold harsh logic in the absence of the supernatural, I see you. LET HIM HAVE GUNS. specifically, revolvers, because I wanna stay loyal to the high fantasy aesthetics we have going on. he dual wields (something about covering every eventuality, blah blah).

(sigh now i'm getting an idea for a scene with stubborn, cheated, contrarian and broken playing russian roulette with skeptic's revolvers while the peepaw detective remains oblivious and wonders where the shit his guns went.)

Prisoner/Cage - GARROTE. GARROTE WIRE. YEAHHHHH BABY, ASPHYXIATION FOR THE WIN. like. she'd be a natural with the thing, she already strangles you with chains anyway. perhaps the thing is made of thin yet heavy chain-links with hooks at the ends, kinda like the chains in cage? a bit like a surujin, perhaps? maybe spiked? at this point i'm letting rule of cool drive all this.

although to be honest i'm also slightly enjoying the image of her using clinical instruments like a scalpel. she can share that with paranoid as a side thing, i guess.

or i can also see her using a weighted flail, because prisoner. god too many options

Drowned Grey - dunks you with water balloons and a super soaker. nah I'm just kidding, but I can see her using a sort of harpoon, perhaps?

at this point my brain is veering into Off Topic Land and proposing the headcanon that prisoner goes fishing. great. no thanks.

Smitten - for all his knight in shining armour rambling and shambling and garbling and warbling, fine. sword and shield. specifically, a grand broadsword and shield, both carved with very elaborate depictions of flowers and maidens and chivalry and the like. don't ask me how he's carrying both at the same time, each with one hand. he's probably freakishly strong, he's smitten after all.

Damsel/HEA - as damsel she's probably going to rely on smitten to protect her, but i like to think she picks something up after HEA. perhaps she gets a little rapier hidden up her skirts. plain and undecorated, unlike her opulent garments. sharp despite its small size. honestly i don't even think it'd be practical to get it out of there but i might also decide to redesign post-ending HEA for the sake of this thing. i do plan on redesigning the vessels anyway.

(also it took me this long to realise that technically she does have a weapon, and not a weapon, the weapon, the dinky little knife itself resting beneath her neck- nah. fuck it.)

I also love the idea of damsel with one of those crude little fairy godmother cartoon wands that's pretty much just a rod with a star on top. the one that's in all those transparent pngs and kindergarten textbooks. would be funny. wonder if she'd know how to actually cast with it, though? well, if it makes you happy.

Burned Grey - look, i absolutely adore the image of her just throwing around a flamethrower like there's no tomorrow. but i'm staying loyal to the high fantasy aesthetic so we sure as fuck can't have that. allow me to propose... yeah actually? i have no fucking idea. i'm going to google.

and one train of research and distractions later, i have been led to the handgonne which is pretty much a medieval flamethrower-esque kinda thingy. seems a little impractical. but hey, what with burning down both LQ and herself, which is sure to cause a LOT of inconvenience, the burned grey is all about impractical.

Stubborn - fists. do i even need to explain

Adversary - fists. do i even need to explain

okay but we do know that advy sort of has claws, but we don't really see her use them, though. and i like to think that stubborn attaches blades to his knuckles for maximum impact.

but in all fairness, when they don't use their fists, i like to think that they have matching sledgehammers. big and messy and violent. heavy. bloody. they love it.

Eye of the Needle - this is another one has who pre-ordered weapons free with her hands. claws. I'm not gonna bother. she probably retains the sledgehammer from advy though. or perhaps a gigantic battleaxe? don't know. probably has an entire arsenal because of how dang bloodthirsty she is.

Broken - would smack you upside the head with a bible while wailing and weeping. not funny, nevvey.

okay, he's probably the least combat-oriented of all the voices and I kinda see him as a sort of cleric? he's likely gonna be another magic-user like witch/thorn and paranoid. I can sorta see him wielding a staff like DnD-

WAIT. ALTAR KNIFE. ALTAR KNIFE. A FUCKING ATHAME. the thing's not even intended for genuine cutting, it's just there for ritual and channeling purposes. broken, I'm looking at you. PERFECT. and it's probably set in ivory and cracking porcelain and there's a bit of gold thread wrapping around it oh fuck yeah

Tower/Apotheosis - she would tell you that she doesn't need one, because her compelling voice is already enough. however, she is a girlfailure and you should never take her word for it.

I can low-key see her using a sort of scepter. something simple yet elegant carved from ceramic, radiating divine energy. yeah that's it. I don't really know. and she wouldn't stoop so low as to use a close-range bladed weapon, or anything that really uses a lot of physical effort at all. apothy's gonna need a HUGE one though

Fury - she can literally reduce you to subatomic particles. what need does she even have for a weapon? although I am SERIOUSLY digging the idea of her using a brutal bloody terrifying spiked club. way too large and way too many spines, perhaps ivory or bone. a bit of grisly membrane coating the material; a few fleshy tendrils travelling down its length. yeah. glances warily at body horror demon lady. would.

actually i can also see her using a meat cleaver because that would be kinda cute

Paranoid - FUCK YEAH I WAS WAITING FOR THIS ONE. staff. he wields a mage's quarterstaff. no question.

he definitely uses it for a ton of healing. the 'heart lungs liver nerves' mantra as a sorcerous incantation, fuck yeah. but paranoid is also really powerful and can probably use the same staff for minor transformative or conjuring spells.

now this one's probably been engraved all over with protective runes and symbols, to the point that you can barely even tell where one stroke ends and another begins. otherwise it's quite plain, but there's an orb at the top for better channelling. sometimes he uses it in conjunction with a grimoire.

it's also really handy for whacking annoyances upside the head as required.

side note: he uses a scalpel too. but he hates close-range, if he even needs to fight at all. he prefers to let hero or cold handle it while he plays support.

Nightmare/MOC - organ failure. why would i even need to elaborate.

well apparently i felt like elaborating anyway so i think she'd use...god, actually, this one is pretty hard.

OH, HOLD ON. Nightmare with oversized scissors/shears like a horror movie doll, all guro-lolita core. huh. that might be interesting. bonus points if the scissors are comically sharp. the handles are bone porcelain, smooth yet chipped, and painted with black-and-white patterns like her mask (so that I don't stray too far from the fantasy motif, because if i do, that would just completely break the rule of cool.)

Cold - well. phospo's (absolutely amazing beautiful splendid divine) cold wields a scythe and i am very extremely tempted to steal that concept from them. however, that would be plagiarism. and i am trying to avert plagiarism.

my original idea was always for cold to have a series of throwing knives and daggers like an assassin. i kinda see cold as someone who operates on stealth, shrouding himself in the shadows just as he shrouds his emotions. so he's just. throwing these things at you from out of fucking nowhere with deadly intent and precision. and he has excellent aim.

then again, this is probably really unoriginal but fuck cares

Spectre/PatD - does. a ghost. even need. a weapon?? how would a ghost even wield a weapon????

i'm gonna steal the flail from pris because she already has her nice little garotte and give it to spectre because it seems fitting enough. plus, i'm running out of ideas. sorry spectre.

although i like to think that patd gets a few avian features like talons and feathers in her hair, thanks to the switcheroo. so she can use those talons too, i suppose.

Wraith - OH. NOW THIS ONE. SPOOKY LITTLE SCYTHE, LIKE THE GRIM REAPER. no question. no question at all.

Cheated - so i apologise in advance because i am DEFINITELY committing plagiarism here. phospo, if you don't like me using your cheated-with-a-bayonet idea then i utter my sincerest regrets but. cheated. would use a bayonet.

i won't even talk about the fact that it's cool. but he'd also get it for the sake of maximizing his chances and for its versatility and, well, the fact that it is cool...and razor would still skewer him. not to mention it's not easy to use. so he'd probably attempt, and fumble, and attempt again, and just rage quit and smash the damn thing everywhere in combat like a berserker.

and it's probably just as fucked up and rusted and tattered as he is, but he still keeps it close, out of spite more than anything.

Razor - what are you talking about, she definitely isn't going to need a weapon, it's not like she's going to stab anyone anyway, it's definitely not like she's the weapon

discord said she'd use one of those disappearing trick knives. funny. nah, i think i'm giving that to...

Contrarian - you get the disappearing trick knife. and a nice rubber mallet. and a goose.

okay jokes aside i think he'd probably dual-wield as well, with weapons that have been specifically designed to be a pain in the ass for opponents.

personally i would give him a scimitar or khopesh because 1. i am OUT of ideas and 2. he's gonna have a lot of fun deflecting with the curved blades and using them to hook the opponents' weapons, then disarm them, then throw their blades out the window. then again, giving him a blade's a pretty bad idea. he'd throw it out the window himself-

wait. it's more like him to use a weapon that's not even designed to be a weapon. but that could be literally anything.

okay nevermind, contrarian is too hard to decide for. hell, he's a literal contrarian. fuck it, i won't be giving him a fixed weapon. he'd probably swap them out every two seconds and throw them out the window when he's done.

Stranger - oh shit. all five of her identities gotta have different weapons. this is the part where i'm getting lazy so i'll just steal from minecraft and go:

nondescript - bow

gentle - pickaxe

harsh - sword

evil - axe

depressed - spade

there we go. i suppose you can say she's multi-armed.

-- -- -- -- --

man this took way longer than i thought it would. what the fuck induced me to do this for like every single voice and vessel-? oh well it was worth it, especially now that i've given myself even more drawing and writing ideas especially for adventuring and fight scenes. yay.