#11 days of freedom...11 days of chaos

[cosmica-galaxy]

First victim being decided...

[mostlysignssomeportents]

“If buying isn’t owning, piracy isn’t stealing”

20 years ago, I got in a (friendly) public spat with Chris Anderson, who was then the editor in chief of Wired. I'd publicly noted my disappointment with glowing Wired reviews of DRM-encumbered digital devices, prompting Anderson to call me unrealistic for expecting the magazine to condemn gadgets for their DRM:

https://longtail.typepad.com/the_long_tail/2004/12/is_drm_evil.html

I replied in public, telling him that he'd misunderstood. This wasn't an issue of ideological purity – it was about good reviewing practice. Wired was telling readers to buy a product because it had features x, y and z, but at any time in the future, without warning, without recourse, the vendor could switch off any of those features:

https://memex.craphound.com/2004/12/29/cory-responds-to-wired-editor-on-drm/

I proposed that all Wired endorsements for DRM-encumbered products should come with this disclaimer:

WARNING: THIS DEVICE’S FEATURES ARE SUBJECT TO REVOCATION WITHOUT NOTICE, ACCORDING TO TERMS SET OUT IN SECRET NEGOTIATIONS. YOUR INVESTMENT IS CONTINGENT ON THE GOODWILL OF THE WORLD’S MOST PARANOID, TECHNOPHOBIC ENTERTAINMENT EXECS. THIS DEVICE AND DEVICES LIKE IT ARE TYPICALLY USED TO CHARGE YOU FOR THINGS YOU USED TO GET FOR FREE — BE SURE TO FACTOR IN THE PRICE OF BUYING ALL YOUR MEDIA OVER AND OVER AGAIN. AT NO TIME IN HISTORY HAS ANY ENTERTAINMENT COMPANY GOTTEN A SWEET DEAL LIKE THIS FROM THE ELECTRONICS PEOPLE, BUT THIS TIME THEY’RE GETTING A TOTAL WALK. HERE, PUT THIS IN YOUR MOUTH, IT’LL MUFFLE YOUR WHIMPERS.

Wired didn't take me up on this suggestion.

But I was right. The ability to change features, prices, and availability of things you've already paid for is a powerful temptation to corporations. Inkjet printers were always a sleazy business, but once these printers got directly connected to the internet, companies like HP started pushing out "security updates" that modified your printer to make it reject the third-party ink you'd paid for:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2020/11/ink-stained-wretches-battle-soul-digital-freedom-taking-place-inside-your-printer

Now, this scam wouldn't work if you could just put things back the way they were before the "update," which is where the DRM comes in. A thicket of IP laws make reverse-engineering DRM-encumbered products into a felony. Combine always-on network access with indiscriminate criminalization of user modification, and the enshittification will follow, as surely as night follows day.

This is the root of all the right to repair shenanigans. Sure, companies withhold access to diagnostic codes and parts, but codes can be extracted and parts can be cloned. The real teeth in blocking repair comes from the law, not the tech. The company that makes McDonald's wildly unreliable McFlurry machines makes a fortune charging franchisees to fix these eternally broken appliances. When a third party threatened this racket by reverse-engineering the DRM that blocked independent repair, they got buried in legal threats:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/04/20/euthanize-rentier-enablers/#cold-war

Everybody loves this racket. In Poland, a team of security researchers at the OhMyHack conference just presented their teardown of the anti-repair features in NEWAG Impuls locomotives. NEWAG boobytrapped their trains to try and detect if they've been independently serviced, and to respond to any unauthorized repairs by bricking themselves:

https://mamot.fr/@q3k@hackerspace.pl/111528162905209453

Poland is part of the EU, meaning that they are required to uphold the provisions of the 2001 EU Copyright Directive, including Article 6, which bans this kind of reverse-engineering. The researchers are planning to present their work again at the Chaos Communications Congress in Hamburg this month – Germany is also a party to the EUCD. The threat to researchers from presenting this work is real – but so is the threat to conferences that host them:

https://www.cnet.com/tech/services-and-software/researchers-face-legal-threats-over-sdmi-hack/

20 years ago, Chris Anderson told me that it was unrealistic to expect tech companies to refuse demands for DRM from the entertainment companies whose media they hoped to play. My argument – then and now – was that any tech company that sells you a gadget that can have its features revoked is defrauding you. You're paying for x, y and z – and if they are contractually required to remove x and y on demand, they are selling you something that you can't rely on, without making that clear to you.

But it's worse than that. When a tech company designs a device for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades, they invite both external and internal parties to demand those downgrades. Like Pavel Chekov says, a phaser on the bridge in Act I is going to go off by Act III. Selling a product that can be remotely, irreversibly, nonconsensually downgraded inevitably results in the worst person at the product-planning meeting proposing to do so. The fact that there are no penalties for doing so makes it impossible for the better people in that meeting to win the ensuing argument, leading to the moral injury of seeing a product you care about reduced to a pile of shit:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/11/25/moral-injury/#enshittification

But even if everyone at that table is a swell egg who wouldn't dream of enshittifying the product, the existence of a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature makes the product vulnerable to external actors who will demand that it be used. Back in 2022, Adobe informed its customers that it had lost its deal to include Pantone colors in Photoshop, Illustrator and other "software as a service" packages. As a result, users would now have to start paying a monthly fee to see their own, completed images. Fail to pay the fee and all the Pantone-coded pixels in your artwork would just show up as black:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/28/fade-to-black/#trust-the-process

Adobe blamed this on Pantone, and there was lots of speculation about what had happened. Had Pantone jacked up its price to Adobe, so Adobe passed the price on to its users in the hopes of embarrassing Pantone? Who knows? Who can know? That's the point: you invested in Photoshop, you spent money and time creating images with it, but you have no way to know whether or how you'll be able to access those images in the future. Those terms can change at any time, and if you don't like it, you can go fuck yourself.

These companies are all run by CEOs who got their MBAs at Darth Vader University, where the first lesson is "I have altered the deal, pray I don't alter it further." Adobe chose to design its software so it would be vulnerable to this kind of demand, and then its customers paid for that choice. Sure, Pantone are dicks, but this is Adobe's fault. They stuck a KICK ME sign to your back, and Pantone obliged.

This keeps happening and it's gonna keep happening. Last week, Playstation owners who'd bought (or "bought") Warner TV shows got messages telling them that Warner had walked away from its deal to sell videos through the Playstation store, and so all the videos they'd paid for were going to be deleted forever. They wouldn't even get refunds (to be clear, refunds would also be bullshit – when I was a bookseller, I didn't get to break into your house and steal the books I'd sold you, not even if I left some cash on your kitchen table).

Sure, Warner is an unbelievably shitty company run by the single most guillotineable executive in all of Southern California, the loathsome David Zaslav, who oversaw the merger of Warner with Discovery. Zaslav is the creep who figured out that he could make more money cancelling completed movies and TV shows and taking a tax writeoff than he stood to make by releasing them:

https://aftermath.site/there-is-no-piracy-without-ownership

Imagine putting years of your life into making a program – showing up on set at 5AM and leaving your kids to get their own breakfast, performing stunts that could maim or kill you, working 16-hour days during the acute phase of the covid pandemic and driving home in the night, only to have this absolute turd of a man delete the program before anyone could see it, forever, to get a minor tax advantage. Talk about moral injury!

But without Sony's complicity in designing a remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrade feature into the Playstation, Zaslav's war on art and creative workers would be limited to material that hadn't been released yet. Thanks to Sony's awful choices, David Zaslav can break into your house, steal your movies – and he doesn't even have to leave a twenty on your kitchen table.

The point here – the point I made 20 years ago to Chris Anderson – is that this is the foreseeable, inevitable result of designing devices for remote, irreversible, nonconsensual downgrades. Anyone who was paying attention should have figured that out in the GW Bush administration. Anyone who does this today? Absolute flaming garbage.

Sure, Zaslav deserves to be staked out over an anthill and slathered in high-fructose corn syrup. But save the next anthill for the Sony exec who shipped a product that would let Zaslav come into your home and rob you. That piece of shit knew what they were doing and they did it anyway. Fuck them. Sideways. With a brick.

Meanwhile, the studios keep making the case for stealing movies rather than paying for them. As Tyler James Hill wrote: "If buying isn't owning, piracy isn't stealing":

https://bsky.app/profile/tylerjameshill.bsky.social/post/3kflw2lvam42n

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/12/08/playstationed/#tyler-james-hill

Image: Alan Levine (modified) https://pxhere.com/en/photo/218986

CC BY 2.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/

[bat-mom-writer]

Rage and Redemption Part 2

Bruce Wayne X orphan(Female) Reader

Summary: months after losing your parents in a fire, you become a troublesome child for the workers at the orphanage. But one day Bruce Wayne comes to your orphanage to adopt you.

Rating: sad, angst, happy ending?

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13

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Bruce Wayne, dressed in a casual yet elegant suit, stepped out of his sleek black car, which purred softly as it came to a stop. Before him stood the orphanage, its ivy-covered bricks telling a story of neglect that starkly contrasted with his polished vehicle. He took a deep breath, his heart weighed down by the enormity of his decision. The cool air, tinged with the faint scent of charred wood from the fire that had devastated the nearby apartments, stirred painful memories. The image of the girl’s tear-stained face lingered in his mind, pushing him to move forward as he approached the building, filled with a sense of compassion and resolve.

As he walked up the familiar, well-worn steps, the door of the orphanage creaked open, unveiling a warm and inviting interior that contrasted sharply with the cold exterior he had just left behind. The joyful sounds of children’s laughter and chatter filled the air, creating a vibrant atmosphere that felt like a heartbeat amid the heavy silence he had endured since that fateful night. He gently closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing down the corridor. Approaching a kind grey-haired woman at a desk, he shared the reason for his visit, his smile reflecting a mixture of hope and nostalgia. In response, she offered him a warm and encouraging smile, guiding him toward Ms. Jenkins' office with genuine warmth, as though she understood the weight of his journey.

With a mischievous grin stretching across your face, you dashed down the dimly lit hallway of the orphanage, the sound of your footsteps echoing off the worn wooden floors. Your heart raced wildly in your chest, a mix of adrenaline and exhilaration coursing through you. In your grasp, you held tightly to a small purse, its fabric cool against your fingers, a prize you’d deftly snatched from Ms. Jenkins’ cluttered office, a thrill of rebellion sparking within you with each step.

A stern voice echoed behind you, but you refused to look back. You knew it was her, the one who had been pursuing you for what felt like an eternity. The click-clack of her heels grew louder, yet you were faster, driven by anger and an urgent need to break free from this place. You charged through the cafeteria, skillfully dodging tables and chairs as the other children stared at you in wide-eyed disbelief, their spoonfuls of oatmeal suspended in mid-air. The smell of burnt toast from the kitchen enveloped you, momentarily overpowering the usual stench of the orphanage.

You jumped onto the first table, the metal screeching under your weight. You kicked a plastic tray off the edge, and its contents splattered on the floor with a loud crash. The laughter of younger kids encouraged you as you moved from table to table, creating chaos. Trays clattered and food was scattered everywhere. You felt a rush of excitement, a feeling you hadn’t experienced since the fire took everything from you.

Ms. Jenkins’ shrill voice closed in, making it clear she was far from amused. The rapid clicking of her heels echoed as two imposing male staff members charged behind her. You could practically feel the heat of their breath on your neck. But as you approached the last table, you seized your moment. You took a determined running start and propelled yourself off the edge, targeting the exit of the cafeteria. The open floor loomed ahead, and freedom was within reach just as Ms. Jenkins and the two staff members rounded the corner, their eyes wide with shock and fury.

With a swift and powerful kick, you launched the last tray into the air, sending its colorful contents flying like a delicious, chaotic storm. As the food scattered across the floor, the three adults—each one heavyset and awkward—lost their footing on the slick surface, their arms windmilling wildly in a desperate attempt to regain balance. The burly men collided with one another, their bodies thudding together, which sent Ms. Jenkins toppling to the ground with a surprised yelp.

The delightful chaos sparked a wave of laughter and squeals from the circle of children nearby, their eyes wide and gleaming with a mix of delight and mischief. The entire scene unfolded like a scene from a live-action cartoon, a perfect blend of slapstick humor and unexpected absurdity, and you couldn't suppress a giggle at the hilarity of it all.

For a brief moment, everything around you seemed to come to a halt, as if time itself had decided to pause. The chaos of the chase morphed into an unexpected dance of slips and stumbles, each mishap adding a touch of humor to the frantic scene. With a surge of adrenaline, you seized the opportunity presented by their misfortunes and sprinted through the cafeteria's exit door. The cool breeze that greeted you felt refreshing against your skin, whispering promises of freedom and escape.

But as your sneakers touched the polished tiles of the hallway, a sudden collision interrupted your joyful laughter. You ran headlong into a wall of muscle and affluence—none other than Bruce Wayne himself. The impact knocked you back onto the floor, sending your purse skidding away from your grasp. Disorientation set in as you blinked up at him, his eyes wide with surprise at the unexpected encounter. Yet, amidst the initial shock, you noticed his expression soften as he recognized you.

“Hey, are you okay?” he inquires, his hand outstretched in an offer to help you up.

But you were quicker than he anticipated, weren’t you? The adrenaline coursing through your veins transformed you into a blur of motion, nimble and swift like a fox darting through a forest. You seized the purse from the cold, unforgiving floor and bolted toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The metal handle glinted in the dim light, tantalizingly close, as if it held the promise of liberation just beyond its threshold.

Freedom was merely a push away, an intoxicating invitation to the vibrant world outside that had been beckoning you for far too long. The smooth, cool surface of the handle felt like the key to a cage in which you had been trapped, yearning for escape and the sweet taste of the open air that awaited you.

Just as you were about to dash away, a hand—firm yet gentle—wrapped around your arm, bringing your frantic movement to an abrupt halt. Startled, you looked up to see Bruce Wayne's familiar face, his expression a mix of concern and determination as he kept you from making your escape.

"What are you running from?" he inquired, his voice steady and calm, cutting through the tension in the air. His grip tightened just enough to convey importance, not enough to inflict pain, but enough to signal that he wouldn’t relent easily.

"Let me go, dipshit!" you snarled, attempting to pull away from him, your eyes blazing with defiance. The purse was still in your hand, and you swung it around, ready to use it as a weapon if necessary.

Bruce's grip didn’t waver. His eyes searched yours for something beyond your hidden anger and fear. “I won’t let you get hurt,” he said, his voice firm yet kind.

Ms. Jenkins and the two male staff members stumbled into the hallway, their faces flushed with exertion and embarrassment from their fall. "There you are!" she exclaimed, her voice high-pitched from the effort of chasing you. She straightened her skirt, her eyes narrowing as she surveyed the scene before her: you, holding her purse, and Bruce Wayne, standing as an unexpected obstacle to her authority.

"Mr. Wayne!" she exclaims her voice a mix of surprise and urgency as her eyes flicker nervously between the designer purse you hold in your hand and the calm, unwavering determination etched on Bruce's face. "I sincerely apologize for this disturbance," she continues, her tone softening slightly as she takes a breath to steady herself. "This girl is quite a handful," she adds, casting a wary glance in your direction as if trying to gauge the situation. With a swift motion, she tilts her head toward the staff members nearby, her fierce expression conveying a clear message for them to take action and intervene.

In an instant, the two burly men grab your arms tightly and pull you behind Ms. Jenkins, wrenching the purse from your grip and spilling its contents on the floor. You struggle to break free and run for the exit, but their hold on you is unyielding.

Ms. Jenkins bends down, her nose in the air as she rummages through her purse, her eyes narrowed in accusation. She picks up a lipstick, then a set of keys, before her hand closes around a small, tattered photo of a family, its edges burned. The sight sends a jolt through her, and her expression softens for a moment as she looks at you, recognizing the pain. But quickly, her face hardens again.

"You know why you can't have this back," she says, her voice low and measured. She holds up the photo, the flimsy paper almost transparent from your constant touch. "You've caused enough trouble today, young lady."

Anger surges in your cheeks as her words pierce through you. That photo was the final fragment of your old life—the one before everything turned to ash and despair. It captured a moment of joy, with you, your mom, and your dad all smiling, the happiness you've yearned for since that fateful night. You wrench against the staff's grip, desperation flooding your voice. “It’s mine! Give it back!” you cry out, but Ms. Jenkins only tucks the photograph into her pocket, a painful reminder of the fire's merciless destruction.

"You'll only get it back when you learn to behave," she says, her voice icy and dismissive. Each word feels like a dagger to your heart, twisting deeper with every syllable. "Take her to detention for the night," she commands the staff, who nod and move to drag you away. You kick and scream, desperation clawing at your throat, but their grip is like iron, unbreakable. Their faces are as hard and unyielding as the prison bars that seem to loom closer with each step, leaving you feeling utterly powerless and frightened.

As you are taken away, you catch a glimpse of Bruce’s face, his brow furrowed and eyes filled with concern. For a moment, you see a flicker of anger aimed not at you, but at Ms. Jenkins. That brief comfort vanishes, replaced by dread as you leave the only person who has shown you kindness since the fire.

Ms. Jenkins looks at Bruce as the two staff members take you to detention. She straightens her skirt and smooths her hair, regaining her usual authoritative stance. "I'm sorry you had to see that," she says, her voice overly sweet. "We have rules for a reason. She's a troublemaker, that one."

Bruce nods, his eyes fixed on you as you turn the corner. He can feel the anger radiating from you—a fierce intensity that he knows well, one that drives his nightly battles as Batman. He fully understands the pain of loss and the unwavering need for justice that comes from witnessing the suffering of the innocent.

Ms. Jenkins clears her throat, regaining his attention. "Not that you're not welcome here, Mr. Wayne, but is there something specific you were looking for?"

He nods, his eyes still lingering on the spot where you had disappeared. "Yes," he clears his throat, "I am looking to adopt."

The words linger in the air, heavy with meaning. Ms. Jenkins’ eyes widen in surprise, and for a moment, she is speechless. Then she smiles broadly, clasping her hands. "How wonderful!" she exclaims. "We’re thrilled to have people like you offer homes to our children. They need someone like you to give them a chance at a better life."

Bruce nods, his eyes never leaving hers. "I'm interested in her," he says, pointing down the hallway where you were taken.

Ms. Jenkins' smile weakens as she glances back, expecting to find someone there, but finds the hallway empty, save for the distant echoes of your protests. "Who?" she inquires, her tone a bit less pleasant than before.

Bruce maintains his steady gaze on her and responds with clarity, "I’m referring to the girl you just sent to detention—the one you were chasing."

Ms. Jenkins' smile fades into a strained grimace before she quickly recovers. "Ah, her. She's quite a handful, I'm afraid. She's still adjusting to the loss of her parents in the fire, you see. It's been quite a challenge for us to manage her grief and behavior. Would you be interested in another child?" she suggests, her voice saturated with insincere kindness.

But Bruce's mind is made up. With a firm expression on his face, he shakes his head and declares, "No," his voice is steady and resolute. "It's her."

Ms. Jenkins' eyes narrow, and she crosses her arms over her chest. "Mr. Wayne, I must advise against that. She's a very… troubled child. She's been through a lot, and it's affected her in ways we're still trying to understand. She's prone to outbursts, theft, and violence. We've had to restrain her more than once."

Bruce's jaw clenches, but his gaze remains unwavering. "I understand she's been through a traumatic experience, and she needs guidance. I believe I can provide that for her."

“I’m sorry, Mr. Wayne,” she says, her voice suddenly cold as ice, “but she’s not even on the list of children available for adoption.”

Bruce's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "What do you mean she's not on the list?" he demanded, his voice firm with confusion and determination.

Ms. Jenkins' smile shifts into a smug smirk. "Exactly, Mr. Wayne. She is not suitable for adoption at this time."

But Bruce isn't one to be deterred. He reaches into his inner pocket and pulls out a sleek black checkbook. "Twenty thousand," he says, his voice steady, "she's on the list."

Ms. Jenkins' eyes widen at the sight of the checkbook, and for a moment, a greedy expression crosses her face before she quickly regains her composure, adopting a professional demeanor. "Mr. Wayne, I appreciate your generosity, but it's not that simple. The welfare of the children here must be our top priority."

Bruce's hand hovers over the checkbook, the pen ready to sign. "Fifty thousand," he says simply, the words slicing through the tension like a knife.

Ms. Jenkins glances around the empty hallway, seemingly wary of being caught. The distant laughter from the cafeteria fades away. She licks her lips, and her greed is evident. "Why don’t you and I talk more in my office?" she whispers conspiratorially, nodding toward her door, its nameplate glinting in the fluorescent lights.

"Thank you, but I would like that picture back," Bruce says firmly, holding out his hand with his palm up, expecting the family photo.

Ms. Jenkins hesitates, her eyes flicking from the checkbook. "Mr. Wayne, I must insist that the photo stays with us for now," she says, her voice a delicate balance of greed and authority.

Bruce's eyes narrowed, a steely glint reflecting his determination, as he slowly tucked the checkbook back into his pocket. "First, the picture," he repeated, his voice a low, menacing rumble that reverberated off the walls and sent an uneasy silence down the hallway.

Ms. Jenkins lets out a heavy sigh, her shoulders sagging with the weight of her emotions. With a subtle, trembling hand, she reaches into her pocket and withdraws a worn photo, its edges frayed with time. She places it gently into Bruce's outstretched palm, the paper warm from her touch. To you, it feels like a lifeline—a precious remnant of a past that has been shattered beyond recognition.

As Bruce gazes down at the image, the fierce anger that once burned in his eyes begins to dissolve, giving way to a profound sadness that reverberates in the depths of your own heart. It’s a shared grief, one that has lingered like a haunting shadow since the day of the fire. Carefully, Bruce tucks the photo into his pocket, the corners peeking out like a fragile promise, a glimmer of hope amidst the overwhelming darkness.

“Thank you, please lead the way,” he says, his tone firm and a winning smile on his lips.

Ms. Jenkins nods, her arrogance fading as she realizes she must comply with Bruce. She turns and walks down the hallway, her heels clicking against the floor.

Bruce trails behind, his eyes fixated on the very spot where you were forcibly taken from him. The memory lingers in the air like a haunting specter, as he can almost hear the anguished echo of your cries—each one a desperate plea that pierced through the silence. He recalls the raw urgency in your voice as you begged for the one thing that could provide even a flicker of solace in this cold, heartless world. A tight knot of anger and determination forms in his chest. He vows, with unyielding resolve, that he will never allow anyone to strip that comfort away from you again.

Part 3

[yanderes-galore]

Sure! 🐋 Anon helped me out with this :) Hope you like what we came up with!

Prompts Here

Yandere! Shadow Prompts 11, 14, 22

“You don’t even know how lucky you are. I protect you, and provide for you. Don’t act so ungrateful.”

“I just want you all to myself. Is that such a crime?”

“I know it’s creepy, but I love watching you sleep. It’s peaceful, you know?”

Pairing: Platonic/Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Kidnapping, Isolation, Fear of loss, Overprotective behavior, Manipulation, Delusional behavior, Forced companionship/relationship.

In his eyes, isolation was safety. After all... No one could hurt you if they can't find you. That was how Shadow had intended to save you after all.

You are his best companion ever since Maria. When he saw Eggman kidnap you... The hedgehog couldn't just sit back and watch. Seeing you around Eggman flashed him back to... darker times.

Shadow couldn't let you suffer.

"Chaos Control!"

When you opened your eyes, you were greeted with Shadow. You weren't expecting the hedgehog to save you... let alone know where you were. However, despite all that... you were thankful to see him and his red irises.

Until you realized Shadow would never remove your chains... instead keeping you in a room not even you know the location of.

In the hedgehog's eyes, this was caring for you. Keeping you somewhere away from prying eyes was protecting you. He looked you over for wounds, gave you food and water... he looked after you.

But those old chains remain on your body... Escaping one captor in exchange for another.

"Why do you insist on doing this?" You found yourself asking one day. He cared for you enough to give you fresh clothes and food. So... why does he keep you here in heavy chains?

"I'm doing what's best for you." Shadow admits, a pang on guilt on his face as he sighs. "Here... you won't be in danger. I hate to admit it but... I just want you all to myself. Is that such a crime?”

Afterwards, you continued to stay in isolation. Shadow's answers never made any sense. Too far in his delusions of safety to consider any other alternative.

Even with the chains removed, the room you were left with was heavily trapped. Shadow always seemed to know what you were up to. Especially when you fall for one of his attempts to deter your escape.

The first few times you fell for a trap, you woke up with the hedgehog standing over you. He always had a look of disapproval on his face. As though you were a misbehaving child... not a captive.

Even now as you feel for a particularly hard hitting trap... you're left dazed with the hedgehog crossing his arms over you.

“You don’t even know how lucky you are. I protect you, and provide for you. And yet you act so ungrateful?” His voice hisses in disapproval, looking down at you with annoyance. He calls you ungrateful as though you're an entitled brat.

Entitled for wanting freedom...?

You're too busy pondering why you're head hurts and what happened to notice the small smile on his lips. You assumed you fell for a trap... but what? You then hear Shadow chuckle darkly, snapping your attention to him.

“I know it might seem strange, but I enjoy watching you sleep. It’s... peaceful.” Shadow sighs, watching you teeter in and out of consciousness.

You struggle with yourself helplessly as Shadow clasps on those dreaded chains again. It seems you aren't ready to live without them. The metal and Shadow's fur is your only comfort as you give up.

The last thing you see before falling unconscious is Shadow's red eyes...

The very same ones you thought would save you days... now belong to those of your new captor.

[maskedbyghost]

Shadows of Obsession (part 11)

part 1 next part will be the last one. hope you enjoyed this story :)

She stared at the ceiling, the harsh fluorescent light casting everything in the room in a bright glow. Her body ached, a deep thrum that radiated from her ribs and spread out to every nerve. But the physical pain wasn’t what consumed her. It wasn’t why her chest felt so tight she could hardly breathe.

Simon.

Even thinking his name felt like poison. His shadow lingered in every corner of her mind, a presence she couldn’t escape. She didn’t know if she even wanted to anymore.

Her lips pressed together as a wave of anger surged inside her. She hated him for what he’d done, for taking her life and making it his obsession. He’d ripped her out of everything she’d known, locked her away, and convinced himself it was love.

But worse—so much worse—she hated herself because a part of her had started to believe it.

Her breath hitched, her eyes closing as the guilt crashed over her. She remembered every moment of those days in the house he’d hidden her in. How she’d fought at first—screamed, threatened, demanded to be set free. And then, slowly, her resistance had cracked.

Not because he let her go. No, Simon stayed, offering protection when she didn’t want it and tenderness when she didn’t deserve it. Somewhere along the way, the fear had become something she didn’t have words for.

She let out a shaky exhale, her chest rising and falling painfully. What kind of person feels safe with the man who tore her freedom away? What kind of woman wants to be held by the very hands that kept her captive?

You’re broken, she thought bitterly.

But even as the disgust for herself churned, there was another truth, no matter how much she wanted to deny it: Simon had saved her.

Her fingers curled into the hospital blanket, the crisp material rough against her skin. She thought of the way he’d burst into that room, a force of nature cutting through the chaos. She remembered his voice breaking as he promised she was safe, the tremor in his hands as he touched her face.

He had risked everything to get her back. Even now, after everything, she couldn’t convince herself it wasn’t real. He had cared. He had loved, in his own twisted, fractured way. And worst of all—so had she.

Then the tears came, slipping down her cheeks as the monitor continued its beeping.

Her mind circled the same thought repeatedly—an endless loop of self-loathing and longing.

She wanted him. God help her; she wanted him.

But she wasn’t supposed to. Not after what he’d done.

The bed creaked as she shifted, the movement sending a stabbing pain through her torso. She winced but didn’t stop, her arm dragging across her face to swipe at the tears.

“Get it together,” she whispered, her voice raw and trembling. “You’re better than this.”

But she didn’t feel better.

She felt broken, tangled in a war with herself. No matter how much she told herself to move on, to hate him like she should, it wasn’t enough to stop her from wishing he’d stayed.

“Damn you, Simon,” she whispered.

Because no matter how much she hated herself for it, she knew she’d never feel whole again without him.

Simon stayed in the shadows, his mask in place, even though it was unnecessary now in the dark, empty courtyard.

He shouldn’t be here. He knew it. He had sworn to himself that he would let her go, stay out of her life, and let her heal without the constant shadow of what he’d done to her hanging over her.

But here he was. Just like the last time, and the time before that.

He tilted his head upward, his eyes scanning the windows until he found hers. Second floor, third from the left. He told himself he came to make sure she was safe, that the guilt eating him alive could be erased if he knew, even from afar, that she was recovering.

But it was a lie. He was still obsessed, still glued to her in ways he couldn’t explain, no matter how much he told himself he had to let her go.

It had been days since he’d left her, the sound of her voice calling his name still haunting his dreams. That moment at the hospital—the look in her eyes, the tremor in her voice—it was carved into his mind, as sharp and vivid as the weight of her fragile form in his arms.

She had looked at him as if he was something good.

Something worth saving.

She shouldn’t have.

She deserved better. A life without him lurking in the shadows like some forgotten ghost, haunting every corner she turned to. He was poison, and he wouldn’t infect her anymore, no matter how deeply the pull of her tugged at him.

Something shifted behind her curtain, and Simon tensed, his hand twitching instinctively toward his hip where his weapon wasn’t anymore. But it was just a nurse stepping in, offering her water or maybe fluffing the pillow.

He stepped back into the shadows and forced himself to turn away, though it felt like ripping his own heart out of his chest. His boots crunched softly on the gravel of the courtyard as he disappeared into the night. He didn’t glance back.

But he knew he’d return. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe the day after that.

He’d keep his distance, stay out of sight, let her live without knowing the broken man who still watched over her. Because he couldn’t let go, no matter how much it gutted him to stay in her orbit.

-

The base looked the same as it always had—bustling with activity and voices echoing through the corridors.

It had taken weeks for her body to heal to the point where doctors cleared her for duty, though she doubted they would have if they’d truly understood the extent of her emotional scars. Still, work was work, and she needed the distraction, even if the weight of what had happened pressed on her with every step she took.

Her coworkers welcomed her back like nothing was amiss—nods, casual smiles, the occasional “Good to see you, mate.” No one asked about Simon. No one mentioned his name.

She went through the motions: briefings, reports, training sessions. But her attention wandered constantly. And then there were the moments when she felt him. She’d step out of a meeting and catch the faintest flicker of movement in the corner of her eye, a shadow slipping into another corridor. Or she’d walk across the base and feel the weight of someone’s eyes on her back, burning through her composure.

It always ended the same. She’d spin around, heart hammering, only to find herself alone.

“Get it together,” she muttered to herself, slamming her locker door shut one evening. But the ache in her chest didn’t let up. She knew.

He was there. Watching.

He wasn’t cruel enough to approach her directly or selfish enough to disrupt her life, but Simon hadn’t let go. She could feel it as real as the scars on her skin. And it hurt. God, it hurt more than she was prepared to admit.

One day after work, an envelope sat on the desk in her quarters. Her name was scrawled in familiar handwriting that made her breath hitch. She stared at it for what felt like hours before finally tearing it open with trembling hands.

The letter inside was brief—straightforward, in his typical no-nonsense style—but it hit her harder than she expected.

I said I’d stay out of your life, and I meant it. But there are still pieces that need to be set right. This is the last one.

The house is yours now. The paperwork is done. I’ve left the keys hidden in front of the house, and I’ll be gone before you get there.

I don’t know what you want to do with it—live in it, sell it, burn it to the ground—but I trust you to make that choice for yourself. What I want doesn’t matter anymore.

I’m not good at writing things like this, so I’ll keep it simple: I’ll stay out of your life, but you’ll never be out of mine. You’ll always be the reason I keep going. Even from a distance.

- Simon

Her hand tightened around the letter as she read it again. Then a third time. Fury coiled in her stomach, her whole body shaking.

How dare he. How dare he take something so monumental, so tied to the memories of everything they’d gone through, and just hand it to her like some kind of peace offering? Like this house was a symbol he could just discard when he didn’t know what else to do?

He said he’d stay away, but she knew him. Knew that staying away didn’t mean he’d stopped watching, didn’t mean he wasn’t still out there somewhere, wrapped in his guilt and his impossible need to keep her safe.

And now, just like always, he was making the decision for her.

Before she realized it, she was already moving.

-

Even as the engine cut out in front of the house and the car door slammed shut behind her, she couldn’t suppress the fire building in her chest. Her shoes crunched against the gravel driveway, her heart pounding against her ribs.

She didn’t have time for hesitation. Storming up to the front door, she twisted the knob—it wasn’t locked. The faintest glimmer of relief flared up before her anger crushed it. He was here.

Of course, he was.

She pushed the door open, stepping inside to a room that looked exactly as she remembered it. The meticulously cleaned floor, the faint smell of him, and...him. Sitting right in the middle of the living room on a sofa, as though he had been waiting.

His head was bowed, his elbows resting on his knees, a ghost of the man she’d come to know. She hated seeing him like this—like the light in him was extinguished, like he thought he didn’t deserve anything.

“Simon.” Her voice cracked through the silence.

His head jerked up and his eyes locked with hers, and for a fleeting moment, she swore she saw them soften.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet,” he said, his voice quiet.

“No shit,” she snapped, her shoes echoing against the hardwood as she stepped further into the room. “Why the hell did you send that letter, Simon? Did you really think I’d just… take it? Just move into this house and pretend none of this happened? Pretend you don’t exist?”

“I wanted you to have the house—” he began, his words faltering when she threw her bag onto the coffee table with a sharp thud.

“The house?!” she nearly laughed, but it was an angry laugh. “You think that’s what this is about? A damn house?”

“I wanted to do right by you,” he murmured, the sadness in his tone made her stop for a moment.

Then, she took a step closer, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. “You don’t get to decide what’s ‘right’ for me, Simon. You’ve made enough choices for the both of us, and now you’re just...giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” he said, his voice hardening slightly, but his posture remained defensive. “I’m trying to keep you safe—”

“Oh, don’t you dare!” she shouted. “Don’t you stand there and tell me this is about protecting me! You think walking away is noble? It’s cowardice.”

He flinched like the word had struck him, and for a moment, guilt flickered across her face. But the fire in her gut wouldn’t let her stop. She stepped closer again, her voice trembling with raw emotion.

“You think you don’t deserve me, fine. You think you’re too broken, too dangerous, too consumed by your guilt to love me like I deserve. But let me tell you something, Simon Riley: I decide who I love. And I chose you. Even after everything. Even after you made mistakes. I chose you. Not because you’re perfect, but because I see you—every broken, messed-up, human part of you—and I don’t care. I want you anyway.”

Simon stared at her, frozen. His hands gripped the edges of the sofa like it was the only thing keeping him grounded. She could see the battle raging behind his eyes: disbelief, hope, fear, longing—all of it swirling together and tearing him apart.

Her voice softened slightly. “Do you know how angry it makes me? To want you so badly that it hurts, and all you do is push me away? To love you and watch you twist yourself into knots, convincing yourself you don’t deserve to love me back?”

His gaze dropped to the floor. “You’d be safer without me—”

“Stop it,” she snapped, cutting him off as she grabbed his face between her hands, her thumbs resting over the hard line of his jaw. His startled eyes locked onto hers for the first time in weeks.

“You want to protect me?” she continued, her voice thick with emotion. “Then be with me. Protect me by being here. By loving me the way I know you do, because running away doesn’t make me safer, Simon. It just tears me apart.”

His breath hitched, and she felt his muscles tense beneath her hands, his eyes glistening with emotions he wasn’t sure how to control. She leaned closer, her face inches from his, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“Do you hear me, Simon? I’m not letting you go. I don’t care what you’ve convinced yourself about danger, or guilt, or whatever keeps that damn wall between us.” Her fingers slid against the hard planes of his jaw, her grip firm. “You are mine, Simon. And if you keep running, I will find you, drag you back, and make damn sure you understand exactly what that means.”

For a moment, he just stared at her, his chest rising and falling unevenly. Then his voice, low and trembling, broke the silence.

“You think I’m running to keep you safe?” he growled, his hands clutching the edges of the cushion. “You think I stay away because I don’t want you? I can’t stay away. I watch you, even when I shouldn’t. Every time I try to let you go, I fail. Miserably.”

Her nails dug into his skin, but she didn’t let go. She didn’t flinch. “Then stop trying to let me go. Stay with me. You act like you’re some curse I have to bear, but I chose you, Simon! Me! You think I can’t handle what’s inside you? Think again. I know exactly who you are, and I’m not afraid.”

He let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “You should be afraid. You should run. I don’t deserve you. I’d wreck you—consume you—and I wouldn’t know how to stop.”

“Oh, you’d wreck me? That’s funny. Because you’re the one falling apart here.” She tilted her head, her tone half daring, half teasing. “Maybe I should be the one tying you up—locking you in this house until you finally stop this nonsense.”

He froze, his pupils blown wide, a shiver running visibly through him. “You wouldn’t…” he murmured, but there was no resistance in his voice. If anything, he sounded intrigued.

“Wouldn’t I?” she countered, her face impossibly close to his now, her smirk deepening. “Because I will, Simon Riley. If it means keeping you from running off again, I’ll do whatever it takes. If I have to pin you down and make you admit that you’re mine, that you want me, I’ll do it without hesitation.”

His hands, which had been gripping the sofa in a futile attempt to steady himself, finally shot up to clasp her wrists, holding them as though they were a lifeline.

“I already want you. I’ve always wanted you. You don’t even know how badly I need you. It scares the hell out of me. Losing you scares the hell out of me.”

Her face softened, though the fire in her eyes didn’t disappear. “Then stop trying to lose me,” she said. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You’re punishing yourself. You think you’re unlovable, because you think you’re too broken or too dangerous. Guess what, Simon? I don’t care. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m dangerous,” he whispered, his voice shaking. “I’d ruin you, break everything good in you.”

“You already said that,” she shot back, her brow arching. “And here I am. Whole. Standing in front of you. Loving you despite all that mess in your head. You’re not going to ruin me, Simon. You’re just going to have to accept that I became as obsessed with you as you are with me.” She paused, her grin returning, wild and wicked. “And if you can’t, I’ll make you accept it.”

Something in him cracked at her words. He exhaled sharply, his fingers tightening on her wrists like he didn’t know if he wanted to push her away or pull her closer. “You’re insane,” he muttered, his voice raw with awe and disbelief.

“Takes one to know one,” she replied smoothly, leaning in just enough to brush her lips against his lips.

“God, baby, I’m yours,” he whispered like a vow, the weight of it bearing down on both of them.

“I know,” she murmured back, finally kissing him fully, claiming every broken, beautiful part of him that he tried so hard to hide.

PART 12

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

yo?

@daydreamerwoah @spicyspicyliving @blackhawkfanatic @identity2212 @tessakate @lem-hhn @bimboghostface @kylies-love-letter @ghost-haunts-me @lostmypopsicle @tired-writers-world

[snowysosturn]

Allies or Affiliates? - Chris Sturniolo Part 29

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Finale

Pairing : Y/n x dealer!Chris Sturniolo

Summary : Law student Y/n’s life takes a turn when she reconnects with Chris, her brief teenage flame who is now a dealer for a dangerous Boston drug gang. As their bond reignites, Y/n is drawn into Chris’s tumultuous world, where rival gangs clash and loyalty is everything. Balancing her love for Chris with her own ambitions, can their connection survive the chaos that threatens to pull them apart?

Warnings : MDNI, mentions of death, mentions of murder, courtroom setting, trial

It had been ten months since that fateful night in the Airbnb when the news of Vince’s arrest had sent shockwaves through our lives. So much had changed since then. Vince was never granted bail and had remained in custody, his iron grip on the Crimson Cartel shattered the moment the truth about Danny’s death came to light.

The footage had done what we’d hoped, and more. Crimson disbanded in the weeks following the arrest. Some members, disillusioned by the betrayal and violence, saw it as their chance to escape the dealing life altogether, to walk away and start over. Others, however, moved to H Block, aligning themselves with the only gang left standing in Boston’s drug trade. The streets had quieted down, but the tension lingered, a reminder of everything that had been lost and the shadows still lurking.

For Chris, it meant freedom. With Crimson dismantled and Vince off the scene, the need for him to hide was gone. Those who had once believed he was dead, made a pact to keep it that way for Vince’s ears. Even from behind bars, Vince’s wrath was something none of them wanted to risk. But now, with their shared hatred for the man who had destroyed their lives, they protected Chris by staying silent.

Chris no longer had to live like a ghost. He didn’t have to hide in Airbnb’s, constantly looking over his shoulder. For the first time in years, he was free to step into the world without fear of being hunted down whether that be from the police, or Vince. It was a kind of liberation none of us had dared to dream of when this all began.

The scars of the past weren’t gone, but they had started to fade. Boston’s streets were different now. And for us, the end of Vince Moretti marked the beginning of something new, a chance to rebuild, to heal, and to figure out who we were beyond the chaos that had defined us.

Today was the day of Vince’s trial. After months of waiting, the day had finally arrived, and the courtroom was buzzing with a mixture of tension and anticipation. The evidence against Vince was rock solid, with the footage we had risked everything to obtain forming the cornerstone of the prosecution’s case. It was expected to be a straightforward trial, but nothing ever felt certain.

For me, this day carried a weight I couldn’t quite put into words. In the ten months since Vince’s arrest, I’d worked tirelessly to regain my footing in law school. Now, in my final year, I had secured an internship that had somehow landed me in this very courtroom as a junior lawyer representing the state of Massachusetts. It felt surreal to be here, not just as an observer but as part of the team seeking justice.

I stood by the prosecution table, dressed in my best blazer, trying to maintain a calm and professional demeanor. My heart, however, was racing. Being in this courtroom wasn’t just about advancing my career, it was deeply personal. I was here not just as a lawyer in training but as someone who had been touched by the devastation Vince had caused.

As the court filled with reporters, family members of Danny’s including Nate and the general public. The air was thick with anticipation. Vince was escorted in, his expression impassive as he took his seat beside his defense attorney. Even in cuffs, he carried an aura of control, but for once, it felt hollow. He didn’t hold the power anymore.

The lead prosecutor leaned over to me and whispered instructions, snapping me back to the present. My role in today’s proceedings was small but significant, assisting with evidence presentation and ensuring every detail was flawless. My professor, Mr. Hawkins, had worked closely with this team, and I was grateful for his recommendation.

As the judge enters, everyone rises. “Be seated.”He announces as the murmurs within the courtroom die instantly as everyone takes their seats.

“This is the case of The State of Massachusetts vs. Vince Moretti, case number 2025-1203. The defendant is charged with first degree murder, drug trafficking, and organized crime activities. Are both sides ready to proceed?”

“The State is ready, Your Honor.”

“The defense is ready, Your Honor.”

The trial begins with the prosecution presenting their opening statement. The lead prosecutor sat next to me, a middle aged man with a commanding presence, stood for his opening statement.

“Your Honor, members of the jury, today we bring forward irrefutable evidence of the defendant’s guilt. Vince Moretti, once a feared leader of the Crimson Cartel, stands accused of first degree murder, drug trafficking, and other organized crime activities. We will show you clear evidence, including video footage and testimony from former associates, that will leave no doubt in your minds.”

He paced slightly, his voice steady and confident.

 “At the conclusion of this trial, we will ask you to deliver a verdict that ensures justice is served.”

I glanced at Vince, whose expression remained stony, as if he knew this was inevitable.

The defense attorney rose, her tone sharp and rehearsed.

“Your Honor, members of the jury, the evidence presented by the state may seem compelling at first glance, but we urge you to remain open minded and to question the circumstances under which this so called evidence was obtained. My client is not the monster he’s been painted as, and we intend to prove that the accusations against him lack the necessary foundation to convict.”

The defense attorney sits as the prosecution begins presenting their case.

“Your Honor, we call Detective Kevin Alvarez to the stand.”

Detective Alvarez walks to the stand, takes the oath, and sits.

“Detective, can you explain what led to the arrest of Vince Moretti?” The lead prosecutor questions.

“Yes. Following a tip, we conducted a raid at a dock warehouse tied to the Crimson Cartel. There, we found substantial evidence of drug trafficking. Later, we obtained security footage from a neighboring property that captured Mr. Moretti committing murder.”

I rise and present the footage to the technician, who dims the lights and plays the footage on a screen for the court. I avoided looking at Vince during the playback, focusing instead on the jury. Their faces told me everything I needed to know, they were horrified. This was it. The evidence was airtight, the narrative clear. Vince Moretti was going to pay for his crimes.

“Detective, is this the footage you reviewed?” The lead prosecutor smugly asks.

“Yes, it is.”

“And the person committing the act, can you identify him?”

“That’s Vince Moretti.”

The prosecutor looks at the jury, ensuring the gravity of the evidence sinks in.

“No further questions, Your Honor.”

The defense attempts to cross examine but gains little ground. There was only so much defending you could do to such a damning piece of evidence, and soon later the judge adjourned the hearing.

“Members of the jury, you will now deliberate. Court is adjourned until a verdict is reached.” announces the Judge before rising from his seat.

As court adjourned, I stepped out into the hallway, letting out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. I turned on my phone and saw a message from Chris, sending me a simple text: “How’s it going?”

I typed back quickly: “Going well so far. It’s all coming together. The jury is deliberating right now.”

It was best for Chris to stay out of the courtroom, as much as he wanted to be here to support Nate, we couldn’t run the risk of Vince seeing him. He trusted me to see this through, and that trust was what kept me steady as the trial pressed on.

After two hours of deliberating, we were summoned back into the courtroom. The room is packed as the jury files back in. The judge addresses the foreperson.

“Has the jury reached a verdict?”

“We have, Your Honor.” The foreperson responds.

“Please read the verdict.”

“In the case of The State of Massachusetts vs. Vince Moretti, on the charge of first degree murder, we find the defendant.. guilty. On the charge of drug trafficking, we find the defendant guilty. On the charge of organized crime activities, we find the defendant guilty.”

A wave of emotion sweeps through the courtroom. Vince’s face finally cracks, his cold demeanor replaced with a scowl.

The judge thanks the jury for their service. “Sentencing will take place next week. Court is adjourned.”

A wave of relief swept through me. Vince’s reign of terror was officially over. For the first time, Boston felt like it could breathe again. As I packed up my notes and prepared to leave, I realized this wasn’t just a victory for the state or for those Vince had hurt. It was a victory for all of us who had fought to break free from his shadow. This chapter of our lives was finally closed, and the future felt wide open.

I left the courthouse immediately after Vince was taken away. The crisp air hit me as I stepped outside, but it wasn’t enough to calm the storm of emotions coursing through me. Relief, exhaustion, and a sense of finality mixed into one overwhelming wave.

Sliding into the driver’s seat of my car, I took a deep breath. Having a full license now was a game changer, and being able to drive myself felt like a tiny slice of independence amidst the chaos that had been my life for so long. I started the engine and pulled onto the main road, heading toward the house Chris and I had moved into together just two months ago.

Our home.

The drive felt shorter than usual, my mind preoccupied with the moment I would walk through the door and tell Chris the news. By the time I turned into our driveway, the weight of everything seemed lighter.

I stepped inside, the familiar scent of Chris’s cologne lingering in the hallway. He was in the living room, sprawled out on the couch with the TV on, but he wasn’t paying attention to it. When he looked up and saw me, his face lit up.

“Hey” he said, sitting up. “How’d it go?”

I dropped my bag by the door and made my way over to him, my heart racing in anticipation. “It’s done” I said, unable to hold back the smile tugging at my lips. “Guilty on all three counts.”

Chris shot to his feet, his excitement radiating through the room. “Are you serious?”

I nodded, and before I could say anything else, he pulled me into a tight hug, lifting me off the ground for a moment. “Holy shit” he said, his voice filled with disbelief and joy. “He’s actually done for.”

He set me down but kept his hands on my shoulders, his eyes searching mine. “That’s it, then. No more looking over our shoulders. No more hiding secrets from your parents. No more Vince.”

“It’s over” I confirmed, my voice steady despite the tears welling up in my eyes.

Chris’s grin widened as he let out a laugh, running a hand through his hair. “You have no idea how good this feels. Like we can actually breathe again.”

I laughed softly, leaning against him. “I think we’ve earned that.”

We stood there for a while, letting the reality of the moment sink in. Finally the future seemed like something we could look forward to instead of fear.

Chris pulled back slightly, his arms still around me as he spoke. “I was talking to Willow earlier” he said, his voice soft but full of excitement. “She said her and Nate are heading to Cape Cod tonight for a little getaway to celebrate.. well, everything.” He gave me a playful look. “They want us to join them.”

a/n: 1 more part :( JUSTICEEEE IS SERVED

taglist: @mattybearnard @sturn-33 @ncm9696 @yourfavsturniologirl @crazy4jewel @sodakid1234 @stupendoustreewinner @lovealwayssturniolos @matthewsturniolosss @m4ttsmunch @loveexxx @ilusa @starkeyszn @wonnieeluvvr @dylnblue @valxrieq @maggot3647 @cigarettecemetary @ribread03 @chrisstvrns @bandasaruswrx @noplaceissafeanymore @amexiass @witchofthehour @mattssgf @jetaimevous @v33angel @ivysturnss @urmom69lol @ashlishes @watercolorskyy @sturnioloshottiekay @amelia-sturniolo3 @imjusthereforthesturniolosmut @pvssychicken @alizestvrnss @lvrsturniolo @bernardsbunny @spaghetti835928383 @marrykisskilled @sturnsxplr-25 @bxtchboy69 @vickytaa @anikaistg @matts-girlfriend @lvrsturniolo @sophand4n4 @ilovepurpledragons @mattsside @riasturns @sturnslutz @chrisstxrnsaxe @2prcntmilkluvr @trevorsgodmother @anonymouslyachrisgirl

[obsessedwithceleste]

Mattheo Riddle Headcannons

©️ obsessedwithceleste. all works posted here belong to me and should not be reposted or copied in any way or form.

Being the son of the Dark Lord is no easy task. Obviously.

Growing up, Mattheo had very limited contact with other people, which stunts his social skills a lot, especially with his peers

Once he breaks out and has the ability to meet other people, he's 100% an extrovert because he feels like he has to make up for everything that he missed out on

Growing up alone though made him very independent and self sufficient

Lots of trust issues, lots of abandonment issues

But he's also very bad at picking up on social cues, and reading other people's emotions

He grew up being outwardly judged by everyone around him, which caused him to develop a sort of apathetic attitude as a buffer

This gives him a sense of freedom because if he doesn't care about other's opinions, he can do whatever he wants, they'll judge him either way, so why not do what makes him happy

Mattheo also has a deep internal rage

Like, level 11 out of 10 on the scale of anger issues

He bottles up all his emotions and frustration with the world, often lashing out and exploding at the smallest triggers

His frustration mostly stems from the fact that it's not fair that he's suffering for the actions of his father. Because at the end of the day, he's still innocent in all of it

This is also why he's particularly spiteful and disdainful of authoritarian figures

He simply doesn't owe them anything

At Hogwarts it's hard for him at first. It's pretty clear that he didn't have much of a childhood and that he was forced to grow up much too fast

And once again, he finds himself being judged by everyone, so nothing new

His biggest pet peeve is when someone complains about a minor "tragedy" from their childhood, because he's absolutely certain that he had it worse

Lowkey victim complex™️

He's able to eventually bond closely with Theodore Nott, sharing a lot of similar childhood trauma (we <3 trauma bonding) and surprisingly Lorenzo Berkshire who shares his fuck-all mentality

Many assume that he's a malicious bully, based solely on his last name, but he's really more of a chaos instigator

He rebels against authority and stands up for what he might find to be an injustice, but he'd never go after someone without cause

Hogwarts is one of the first places he's able to truly act his age

He joins the Slytherin quidditch team,

He's a beater (which is kind of therapeutic as it allows him to let out a lot of his anger)

Often skives off of class,

He's not book smart like Theo, but makes up for it with street smarts

And likes to pull Theo into the fray simply because he can

This is also how he gets his reputation for frequently sleeping around to put it nicely

Mattheo grew up with a distinct lack of affection from those around him which causes him to search out any hint of it that he can find

He doesn't really use girls per se, he just doesn't quite understand the concept of love

But when Mattheo falls, he falls hard

The first time he catches feelings, he's absolutely terrified that he's under the influence of a love potion

Very confused, very upset, and denies it to the ends of the Earth

But once he comes around, he's all in

He doesn't like to think of himself as jealous, just territorial.

Jealousy is when something isn't yours and you want it. But you belong to him, and he'll be damned if he doesn't defend his territory

He also isn't shy at all when it comes to PDA, simply because he wants everyone to know what's his

Definitely love bombs, but he doesn't know what that means

Won't bat an eye before hexing someone for looking at you too long (will act innocent and pretend it wasn't him)

Honestly probably would not be the best partner initially because he's so used to being independent

And would likely try to hide a lot of his anger and emotions from you because his biggest fear would be being judged by someone he loves

It would take a lot of time and effort to work through, but Mattheo would be willing to put in the work because he's determined to have the one thing his father never could

[everwhovian]

A fluff fic where Junho (age 9, 10 or 11) is feeling uncomfortable at a family gathering so he don’t talk much and just stare out the window

Inho notice and helps him

My relatives are actually visiting right now, and I love them, but sometimes it all gets too much! So yeah... here ya go! In-ho definitely managed to cheer Jun-ho up!

❛ ━━━━━━･❪ ○△□ ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜

It wasn’t that Jun-ho didn’t like his family. He did. Mostly.

He liked Eomma’s voice when she was laughing with her sisters. He liked the smells coming out of the kitchen – soy sauce and sesame oil and something sweet baking in the oven. He liked the way his aunts still called him ‘our Jun-ho-yah’ like he was still five and small and easy to hold. It wasn’t bad.

It was just… a lot.

Too many shoes in the hallway. Too many voices layered on top of each other, all too loud, too fast. Every room buzzing with the kind of energy that made his skin feel too tight.

And he was a lot, too.

He knew that.

Too talkative when he got excited. Too bouncy. Asking too many questions. Interrupting by accident. Then, just as suddenly, too quiet. Stuck in his head, floating above the conversation, not knowing how to climb back in.

So when the cousins – older, taller, louder – started ribbing each other, showing off new phones, dropping words Jun-ho didn’t really understand, he slipped away.

No one stopped him.

He found a wooden chair by the living room window and curled into it like it belonged to him. Pulled his sleeves down over his hands. Leaned his forehead against the cool glass.

Outside, the sun was starting to dip. The light turned everything soft – trees glowing gold at the edges, wind brushing through them in slow waves. He watched a single leaf flutter in circles on the sidewalk and wondered how long he could stay in that chair before someone noticed.

They hadn’t seen him in years. That’s what his uncle had said earlier. “You’ve gotten so big, Jun-ho!”

And then: “What do you like these days?”

And Jun-ho had just… blinked. What did he like? His brain had gone totally blank. He mumbled something about books, and the conversation moved on. But the moment stuck.

He liked a lot of things. But not always the kind of things people expected. And not always at the right time, in the right way. And sometimes – like now – it felt easier to just not be seen at all.

So he sat and stared out the window and let the noise blur behind him.

He didn’t hear In-ho’s footsteps. Just a soft voice, suddenly close: “Window’s got good reception, huh?”

Jun-ho blinked, startled. Turned his head just enough to see his brother lowering himself into the chair beside him, dragging it closer with a soft scrape of wood on tile.

In-ho didn’t ask what he was doing there.

Didn’t ask if he was okay.

Just bumped his knee gently into Jun-ho’s and looked out the window, too.

Jun-ho didn’t speak. But his chest loosened, just a little.

They sat like that for a while.

Jun-ho twisted the edge of his sleeve between his fingers. His head still felt fuzzy, like he was full of static. But it was quieter with In-ho here.

After a while, In-ho leaned over and whispered, “What do you think would happen if I ‘accidentally’ knocked over the rice cake tower?”

Jun-ho snorted softly. “Eomma would destroy you.”

“She’d probably make it look like an accident too.”

“Tripped on the rug,” Jun-ho mimicked, lowering his voice.

“Tragic.”

Jun-ho smiled. Not wide. But real.

In-ho settled back into his chair, stretching his legs out in front of him like he was settling in.

Then, with that offhand tone he always used when he was pretending not to make a big deal, he said, “I was thinking – if you survive this chaos… maybe we take a day.”

Jun-ho blinked. “A day?”

“Tomorrow, maybe. Just us. Me, you, Yuna if she’s free.”

Jun-ho’s head tilted slightly. “Doing what?”

“Whatever you want. We could disappear. Movie, bookstore, snack run. Avoid all humans. Speak in riddles. Embrace freedom.”

Jun-ho’s mouth twitched. “What’s the catch?”

In-ho shrugged. “No hiding in the car. No punching cousins. No secret plans to tunnel out through the pantry.”

Jun-ho pretended to think very hard. “I can’t promise anything.”

“That’s fair. You’ve always been a wildcard.”

“I’m the weird cousin,” he muttered, quieter this time.

In-ho didn’t correct him right away. He just nudged him again with his knee. “You’re my favorite one.”

“You have to say that.”

“Nope. You’re the one I’d sit by even if we weren’t related.”

Jun-ho peeked at him, wary but curious.

In-ho tilted his head. “I mean, who else here spent three whole days trying to train a pigeon in the courtyard with leftover rice?”

“That pigeon liked me,” Jun-ho said defensively.

“Until it stole your lunch and flew into a window.”

Jun-ho snorted.

“And I still remember when you tried to convince Auntie Soo that your imaginary friend was a child ghost who lived in our closet.”

“She believed me for a whole week.”

“You lit incense and everything.”

Jun-ho grinned despite himself.

“And you gave the ghost a name. What was it again?”

“Seok-bong.”

In-ho nodded solemnly. “Rest in peace, Seok-bong.”

Jun-ho laughed again, brighter this time, and In-ho grinned, satisfied.

“There it is,” he said softly.

Jun-ho ducked his head, still smiling, and leaned just a little closer to him. For the first time that day, everything felt a little more okay.

Outside, the sky deepened into soft blue, the light fading from the sidewalk.

Inside, the house still hummed. Plates clinking. Voices rising and falling. Someone called a cousin’s name from the kitchen.

But here, by the window, it was calm. No one asking questions. No one trying to pull answers out of him.

Just his hyung.

Just quiet.

Just enough.

And maybe – just maybe – tomorrow wouldn’t feel so hard.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 11 - And Felt The Pulse Beat Fast

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

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters  Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And I don’t deserve that kinda happiness. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Fine horses, I mean," John clarified.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

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

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

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

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

---

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

As always, thanks for all the love!

[redbean-nom]

grogu sequel au notes

the trilogy team is grogu, ragnar, and mirta crammed in the Falcon (they stole it) (han and chewie are very much alive and chasing them) with ig-11 (memory circuit installed in ig-88's body) and r5-d4

the only way grogu managed to get an all-mandalorian trilogy team together was shared vengeance for the night of a thousand tears. they bond eventually though

Countess Sabine is the wise older mentor, as the previous generation's sort-of-jedi mandalorian and rebellion leader

Ragnar is his Ten Years Older Friend

at age 75 (equivalent to human 18ish) grogu goes back to luke to finish his training, dagobah-style

two days after he passes his knighthood trial, Padawan Ben Solo goes on a rampage

random detail: grogu calls him Benny in the force specifically to annoy him (his real name is bail or something idk. ben is a nickname derived from 'Young Ben' that leia uses when he is being particularly insufferable)

the new temple burning triggers grogu's o66 trauma

Grogu also has a noted tendency to respond with Force Choking The Threat when he is in danger

this results in him fighting kylo, force choking him and slamming him into a wall old republic battlemaster style

luke is now guilty because one of his students went sith and another one had to kill the sith (because his reaction was freeze/shock while grogu's was Fight Everything In Range)

luke runs away as canon

grogu then goes home to consult Dad (not great advice for jedi stuff, but tries), Uncle Boba (worse advice), and Auntie Bo (even worse advice somehow)

boba hears that Padawan Benny, who tried to kill grogu, is han solo's kid

Krayts Claw promptly puts a massive bounty on han (were you not watching your child??)

grogu decides he is responsible for dealing with the sith this time around and assembles his Trilogy Team.

(they eventually steal the falcon) (han chases them) (half the galaxys bounty hunters chase han) (much chaos ensues)

he then drops by boba's tattooine crimelord armory to stock up on grenades and picks up a new buddy Mirta Gev (who in this au has resolved her issues a bit earlier due to boba having a known base of power)

kylo is dead. all rise for Lady Ren, later Darth Ren, aka Rey Kenobi-Kryze (she's the granddaughter of obi wan's brother and satine's second sister) who was found by the Knights of Ren

the Knights of Ren are the remnant of the Revanites

grogu au Knights actually live up to their legendary reputation

they're also a bit better trained in a combo of light & dark side techniques, though they are decidedly dark jedi/darksiders

they've largely diverged from the original Revanchist philosophy, and follow something more akin to what was scraped out of holocrons of Revan's later teachings

instead of anakin's lightsaber, Revanite Rey inherits revan's mask, which she dons as Darth Ren in her quest (independent of the First Order) to put an end to a weak New Republic that leaves its citizens vulnerable while the politicians squabble, maintaining neither freedom nor security while syndicates and imperial holdouts conquer the outer rim and ignoring the advice of the actual rebels

its widely debated whether 'ren' is a corruption of revan, or if ren is an alternate/original name for revan

krayts claw is a bounty hunter syndicate/union basically acting as an alternative to the bounty guild, with an incidental side of local government and a dash of organized crime

they primarily work for the local hutts

boba has single handedly fixed both the issues of Declining Mandalorian Population and Sad Desert Orphan Children by sending the apparently-abundant tatooine future main characters to din's friends on mandalore

the hutts/krayts claw waging war on the pykes ended up eventually eliminating them

the razzi syndicate filled the power vacuum in the spice trade

black sun amassed a concerning amount of political power in the NR

red key eventually was driven off tatooine (and most of the outer rim) after having tried to ransom borgo the huttlet (grogu au rottas cousin/jabbas nibling)

rotta ended up working with the twins and borgo

he is still stinky

the rancor is an adult and absolutely massive (they expanded the rancor pit to fit it properly)

boba is fully retired from hunting (because he's like 70)

fennec is also retired for the same reasons

krrsantan is not retired

bossk is stubborn (he refuses to either stop hunting or get cybernetic augments despite being the trandoshan equivalent of a 90 yr old. the rest of the crew spends a great deal of time bailing him out of ill advised hunts)

embo is happily retired on felucia and the only one no longer involved with crime of any kind (he took his full pardon in great stride)

latts is retired from hunting

highsinger is still actively hunting (perks of being an already-ancient droid) and works mostly exclusively for the claw

still nobody knows what language highsinger speaks

aurra is very dead

dengar is heavily cybernetic and still refusing to retire

han spends most of the trilogy being chased by claw affiliated hunters

bobas palace has a full complement of bacta tanks because claw leadership consists of a whole lot of very old beat up hunters

tatooine has emerged a prime contender in the development of outer rim cybernetic surgery

this is partially due to the mod subculture and partially due to the claw's presence meaning a lot of partially-to-mostly-cybernetic hunters hang around mos espa

they also now have proper surgeons

the guavian death gang is a splinter group of the maul-era crimson dawn, led by The Jedi Killer

(boba takes offense because that's his dad's title)

The Jedi Killer is an ex-inquisitor who ended up working for maul

grogu uses the force to hold his lightsabers because he is very small

between three to four (if they bring sabine) fully armored mandos and two droids rattling around in the cockpit, the slightest hint of turbulence produces a veritable tin-can cacophony

the Helmet Rule for grogu and ragnar combined with the falcon's living areas means everyone eats with a bag over their heads

ragnar has a tendency to get eaten/attempted to be eaten by large creatures

at the beginning of their journey they took a detour and picked up the three dino-birds

they all ride a now-fully-grown dino bird

the falcon was not meant to transport three full sized dino birds

while attempting to find somewhere to put the dino birds they discovered some other large creature (perhaps a young gundark or two?) that somehow got in

they may have blown up parts of the falcon while getting rid of the things

they also may have picked up a gizka infestation

grogu eats gizkas so it's just free food at that point

han and chewie are going to be furious

however han is currently busy getting chased by highsinger

also what did he do to have tasu leech personally hunting him???

a week or so into their journey the falcon is now home to three mandos, two droids, three full sized dino birds, zero gundarks, and approximately a hundred vent gizkas

while they wander around looking for sith they hear about the Resistance

they take a detour to check on them

while detouring, han catches up

while detouring, highsinger also catches up

ig was also left to guard the ship

han nearly explodes when he sees them open the door and at least twelve gizka spill out

the maintenance crew is now attempting to catch all the gizka

grogu wanders in and force projects to leia to try to figure out what's going on

nobody is particularly inclined to give the resistance secrets to the strange small mando who stole the falcon (he didn't know it was *the* falcon!)

someone almost gets shot

highsinger really wants to do his spin attack

grogu has to explain that hes lukes only surviving non-sith student and is attempting to help with the situation

leia explains that luke is missing and theyre looking for the star map, but the guy who was supposed to retrieve it hasn't returned

grogu asks if anyones tried meditating in luke's direction

nobody has

han and leia have their dramatic reunion while getting shot at by highsinger

grogu sits down (and force shields himself) and promptly does his LUKE PLEASE HELP ME force-call

he has located luke

tasu shows up to catch han

a few hunters hired by the razzi syndicate are also there

some of hondos pirates also arrive

and then the guavians show up

guavians are revealed as sith/first order-affiliated when they try to kill grogu in the ensuing standoff

everyone then turns on the guavians

the pirates try to grab han in the meantime and get killed

everyone left then has a very tense discussion on the nature of The Jedi Killer

grogu escapes to go find luke

the new republic never demilitarized for obvious reasons, but their fleet was decimated by the recent war with thrawn (peridean war? dathomirian war? idk)

the first order conquest capitalized on the lack of NR presence in the outer rim post-thrawn

the resistance is a collection of rebellion veterans and ex separatists stuck in the middle of first order space

there's a lot of internal conflict between the resistance and the NR over the NR politicians being generally useless (like hera's whole rogue two arc in ahsoka)

the NR refuses to back the resistance after they went rogue under the leadership of ex-chancellor mothma and senator organa

instead the resistance is funded by senators from serenno, raxus, and onderon, plus baron calrissian of bespin and countess wren of krownest

a lot of ex-separatist planets feel that the NR's handling of the ex imperials and the NR politicians' uselessness led to the NR embodying only the worst traits of the republic

the resistance skews pretty heavily separatist bc the more moderate/post-Alliance republic systems tend to side w the NR

the resistance fleet is a hodgepodge of really old rebellion era fighters (x wings, a wings, and a couple b wings), separatist ships, and mon calamari ships (mostly the big capital ships)

the first order is a reunited collection of imperial remnant fragments

the NR is busy holding the Core from the hutt inheritance crises, the fallout of the black sun civil war, and the outer rim separatist resurgence

the first order is widely considered a minor issue that'll resolve itself through infighting over time, and therefore less of a priority than the black sun/falleen civil war and the hutt civil war

however there are rumors that the first order's Shadow Council has recently been united under an old sith leader

the NR's arrest of black sun underlord Princess Savan further destabilized black sun leadership

coupled with the destruction of house sizhran on falleen this led to a massive warring states-esque civil war among both legitimate government and black sun

this in turn led to a weaknesses in the outer rim that the first order managed to exploit

the hutt not-empire is also experiencing a succession crisis or four after vader killed the entire ruling council

now rotta is trying to take over and avenge his father

also kanjiklub under tasu leech is busy liberating nearby hutt colonial systems

both the black sun and the hutts are at all out civil war

grogu sees r2 in the corner and remembers r2 driving him to tatooine

grogu decides to take r2 with him to find luke

c3po reluctantly (actually he refused to leave r2 behind) joins

han and chewie agree to let grogu borrow the ship if they come along

they are quite appalled at the amount of amphibious/reptilian pests that get kept around for target practice (ig) and snacks (grogu)

at least ragnar and mirta kept the machinery and sleeping areas strictly gizka-free

they find luke very quickly

on the way there r2 boots up again when he realizes theyre on the falcon

ahch to is Sith Cave Island, featuring cortosis, elephant birds, and porgs

luke is there bc he found a hidden/secret jedi archive in one of the mountains

han, chewie, r2, c3po, and luke have an emotional reunion

grogu also gets an emotional reunion w his teacher

everyone else is just standing around awkwardly

luke then tells them that hes been studying a concerning disturbance in the force

luke is worried the sith are trying to return but he cant figure out who it is

han brings up the mysterious Jedi Killer behind the guavians

eventually han convinces luke to come back with them because he and leia (and everyone else) has forgiven him for the kylo disaster

it's not widely known that grogu was the one that killed him, just that kylo turned sith but didn't make it out of the temple due to a brave unidentified student

also they very much need luke

and leia wants to talk to him but she can't abandon the resistance

they bring luke back. the ship is very crowded now

also luke brought a bunch of holocrons and old jedi books with him

luke and leia have an emotional reunion

ragnar, grogu, and mirta set off to figure out what's going on with the unusual coordination of the imperial remnant recently

ahsoka, sabine, and ezra go to investigate the Jedi Killer

eventually they all discover a disturbance in some remote sith planets

ezra: hey kids if you find a red holocron do not open it :/

they also discover that the death of the baneite sith led to the proliferation of more fringe dark side orders like the Knights and the guavians

meanwhile the NR is focusing on protecting Core planets

leia and mothma are working on introducing NR reforms and officially monitoring the rogue-sith situation as well as the black sun and hutt wars

grogu discovers that the first order is based off a concerning number of sith planets

palpatine's consciousness is alive in the same way bane has his sith ghost. palpatine's body is very much not

palps needs more power (via a sith ritual maybe?) to possess any of the clones, because turns out they all have individual personalities

therefore he has Darth Ren as his fourth apprentice to revive him for promises of re establishing a strong Empire once again

Darth Ren agrees bc she just wants to eliminate the weakness of the NR - the replacement matters less as long as it's able to effectively govern (tyrannically or not)

to do that she ends up allying w the first order

palpatine is also busy influencing disgruntled NR politicians to exacerbate the internal conflict and cripple their ability to respond to external threats

the NR is slowly imploding on itself

turns out the Jedi Killer is working with the first order off ilum

in fact there is more than one ex-inquisitor who took the role of The Jedi Killer

grogu and co track the empire to starkiller and promptly realize this

starkiller base isn't a superweapon but rather a kyber mining facility

grogu can feel the disruption in the balance of the force from the razing of ilum

they break into the base to find/kill the Jedi Killer

it's an inquisitor

during the battle, one of the chattier minor inquisitors mentions that the sith eternal will return and that mandalore (as a neutral/non-NR affiliated system) should join them

theyre all like !!!

ragnar says something about how gideon's remnant failed and that mandalore will slay the sith

the new grand inquisitor is really good and they only escape because grogu managed to anger-induced force choke the inquisitor for long enough to get away

grogu then has a silent crisis that he cant let anger take over bc luke told him all the stories abt how vader happened

mirta decides they should probably take this info back to sundari + boba as well as resistance hq

they call din and ask him to relay the message that 'oops, there's another sith cult that's associated with the imperial remnant and they want mandalore to either join or die'

they call sabine to tell phoenix squadron 'so we found the jedi killer. theyre an inquisitor and they're working with the empire. also there are sith kids in this place?? and a kyber mining facility? please send help'

they escape just as the resistance arrives

mothma is busy calling the NR to inform them that actually they have a way bigger problem than the black sun war or the hutt war

Battle of Ilum happens

theres a massive realization that the rebellion/NR defeated the imperial leaders but never eliminated the ideology that led to the rise of the empire in the first place

poe is still doing his pilot stuff. he escapes with finn as canon

later, finn has a whole emotional speech to phasma/the other troopers in his unit and inspires a small scale stormtrooper rebellion

some of the ones that didnt leave w him right away spread the news to other troopers

possibly one of palps' clones escapes/goes rogue and joins the resistance?

meanwhile darth ren rediscovers the infinite engine/starforge fragments and brings it to exegol

also one quarter of maul is back (nightsister necromancy via the great mothers & thrawn's plot)(he really wants to kill palpatine)

palpatine never returns in anything more than a sith ghost. on the other hand, someone gets to say 'somehow maul returned'.

[bouquetface]

Aqua Full Moon 2024

Today, Aug 19 at 11:26 AM PST, there was a full moon in aqua. Often, you can feel the effects days leading up and afterwards.

This moon is opposite mercury in leo and square uranus in taurus. This adds a shocking and fiery affect to this full moon.

Often, full and new moons are background noise. However, this one was very NOTABLE imo. In my life and everyone around me.

WHAT I NOTICED:

People can be having emotional or physical outbursts. Mercury retro in a fire sign isn’t holding back. You or others could be very argumentative!

Due to mercury being in retro, you could be hearing from or about people from the past. This could be some much needed closure. For some, this closure could lead to a fresh start.

Particularly Libra risings may meet someone at the end of August. This person could inspire you. It may be romantic.

Leo Risings are likely to be going through something BIG when it comes to relationships (platonic, romantic & even business). I know 2 Leo risings who got engaged this month!

However, for some leo risings there may be ending taking place. I know a third leo rising who is now prepared to leave their job for a new one in September.

Virgo Risings especially if you have scorpio placements may be seriously going through it! In your 6th, you could experience sudden events that take a toll on your mental or physical health. EX: Fights with family or partners. Death or illness of a pet. Having appointments with doctors, dentists, etc.

Scorpio Risings you could find chaos in the home or family. Due to mercury transit the 10th, outside news or events could cause disruption in personal matters. EX: Someone could insult you or your family causing a huge argument/fight. You could hear from or about someone from the past. You could suddenly find there is disruption in your relationships (platonic, romantic &/or business).

People are reaching breaking points. They aren’t likely to hold back due to mercury in retro. Secrets can be coming to light! Many people may express repressed feelings/thoughts.

The full moon in aqua is about breaking free. You can desire freedom from a person or situation. This can lead to impulsive actions - speaking or acting before you think. This could get you or others in a lot of trouble. Once mercury goes direct, you or others may feel the weight of the words and actions. People may find they let their emotions get the best of them - they did not communicate effectively. But depending on what is said or done, it may be too late to go back.

Lmk your rising and if/how this played out in your life. This moon in particular led to a very chaotic night for me. <3

[sensualnoiree]

astro notes: daily transits 8/19

Monday’s astrological weather sets the stage for a dynamic and intense start to the week, characterized by disruptive energies and the need to balance personal freedom with social obligations. The day is marked by a square between the Leo Sun and Uranus, a rebellious Full Moon in Aquarius, and a significant square between Jupiter and Saturn. These powerful aspects create a push-pull dynamic between the desire for independence and the recognition of responsibilities. As the day progresses, the Moon’s ingress into Pisces signals a shift toward introspection and retreat, offering a chance to process the day’s events and find a sense of inner peace.

Key Influences

Sun Square Uranus (Morning): Disruption and Unexpected Change: The day begins with the Leo Sun squaring Uranus in Taurus, a volatile aspect that disrupts our routines and introduces sudden, unexpected events. This energy is electric and can manifest as surprises, shocks, or even breakthroughs that force us to adapt quickly. While this aspect can be unsettling, it also offers opportunities for innovation and breaking free from restrictive patterns. The key is to remain flexible and open to change, even if it comes in a form that is initially unwelcome.

Full Moon in Aquarius (27°15') (11:25 a.m.): Independence and Liberation: The Full Moon in Aquarius perfects late in the morning, amplifying the themes of independence, freedom, and rebellion. This lunar event shines a light on our need to break away from societal norms and embrace our unique individuality. It’s a powerful moment for releasing anything that has been holding us back from expressing our true selves. However, the rebellious energy of this Full Moon can also lead to clashes with authority figures or resistance to imposed structures, making it important to balance the desire for liberation with the need to maintain harmony in our relationships.

Jupiter Square Saturn (17°27' Gemini–Pisces) (Afternoon): Balancing Expansion and Restriction: As the afternoon unfolds, the exact square between Jupiter in Gemini and Saturn in Pisces brings a sobering influence that contrasts with the earlier rebellious energies. This aspect highlights the tension between our aspirations for growth and the limitations imposed by reality. Jupiter’s expansive nature is challenged by Saturn’s demand for discipline, structure, and adherence to rules. This can create a sense of frustration or feeling stuck, as our grand plans encounter obstacles or delays. However, this square also encourages us to find a middle ground, integrating optimism with practicality and understanding that delays may be setting the stage for future success.

Moon Ingress into Pisces (3:52 p.m.): Retreat and Reflection: As the day winds down, the Moon’s ingress into Pisces marks a shift from the outwardly focused energies of the day to a more introspective and emotional state. Pisces’ influence encourages us to retreat from the chaos and find solace in solitude, creativity, or spiritual practices. This is a time to process the events of the day, tune into our inner world, and reconnect with our intuition. The Pisces Moon’s influence can also heighten sensitivity and empathy, making it easier to understand the emotional undercurrents of the day and find peace within ourselves.

Integrating the Influences

Morning Adaptability: Embrace the Unexpected: The Sun-Uranus square sets the tone for a day filled with surprises and disruptions. Rather than resisting these changes, try to go with the flow and see where the new circumstances might lead. This is an excellent time to experiment with new ideas or approaches, especially if you’ve been feeling stuck in a rut. Flexibility and a willingness to think outside the box will help you navigate the morning’s unpredictable energies with grace.

Midday Independence: Celebrate Your Uniqueness: The Full Moon in Aquarius calls for a celebration of individuality and freedom. Use this energy to assert your independence and make decisions that align with your true self. Whether it’s breaking free from limiting beliefs, expressing your creativity, or challenging the status quo, this Full Moon empowers you to step into your authenticity. However, be mindful of the potential for conflict with others who may not share your vision. Strive to balance your desire for liberation with the need for cooperation and understanding.

Afternoon Realism: Find the Silver Lining: The Jupiter-Saturn square brings a dose of reality to the day, reminding us that growth often requires patience and discipline. If you encounter obstacles or delays, resist the urge to become discouraged. Instead, view these challenges as opportunities to refine your plans and ensure that your foundation is solid. Remember that setbacks now may lead to greater success in the future, particularly after the third Jupiter-Saturn square in June 2025. This is a time to blend optimism with practicality and trust that the universe has a plan.

Evening Reflection: Retreat and Reconnect: As the Moon moves into Pisces, the energy shifts toward introspection and emotional healing. After a day filled with intense and potentially overwhelming influences, take some time in the evening to unwind and reconnect with your inner self. Engage in activities that soothe your soul, such as meditation, journaling, or creative expression. This is a chance to process the day’s events, release any lingering tension, and find peace in the stillness of your inner world.

Practical Applications

Morning Strategies: Prepare for the Unexpected: With the Sun-Uranus square influencing the morning, plan for flexibility in your schedule. Allow extra time for unforeseen events or changes and be ready to pivot if needed. Consider starting the day with a grounding practice, such as deep breathing or stretching, to help maintain your composure amidst the unpredictability.

Midday Activities: Express Your Authenticity: Use the energy of the Aquarius Full Moon to take bold steps toward expressing your individuality. Whether it’s speaking your truth, pursuing a creative project, or making a decision that aligns with your values, this is a powerful time to assert your independence. Consider spending time in a group or community setting where you can share ideas and connect with like-minded individuals.

Afternoon Approach: Balance Optimism with Realism: The Jupiter-Saturn square encourages a balanced approach to your goals. Take a practical look at your plans and make any necessary adjustments to ensure that they are realistic and achievable. If you encounter resistance or delays, use this as an opportunity to refine your strategies and build a stronger foundation for future success.

Evening Rituals: Create a Peaceful Space: As the Moon moves into Pisces, create a calming environment in your home to support relaxation and reflection. Light candles, play soothing music, or engage in a creative activity that allows you to connect with your inner world. This is an ideal time for spiritual practices, such as meditation or prayer, that help you find peace and clarity.

follow for more astro insights like this and head on over to @quenysefields or etsy sensualnoiree to book a session with me :)

[sinner-sunflower]

P.2 HH Lucifer-centric AU 23/?

STORY 1, PART 1, PART 2, PART 3, PART 4, PART 5, PART 6, PART 7, PART 8, PART 9, PART 10, PART 11, PART 12, PART 13, PART 14, PART 14.5, PART 15, PART 16, PART 17, PART 18, PART 19, PART 20, PART 21, PART 22, PART 24, PART 25, PART 26

One last Radioapple for the road before shit goes down down.

Also! Check out this amazing art by @firinnie of Belphagor and Luci! I'm really so touched for the amount of support I'm getting. I really feel like I just got a writer's achievement because there's people taking time out of their day to make fanart based on my au ;;

Thank you all! <3 <3

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

As more and more angels descend from Heaven, they attack indiscriminately, targeting both other angels and demons alike. In response, Lucifer and the citizens of Pride waste no time retaliating.

Lucifer: This doesn't even look like a war anymore.

Lucifer mutters to himself while fighting those who come at him.

Lucifer: It's a fucking massacre.

Lucifer watches in disbelief as angels slaughter each other without hesitation. The sight of celestial beings, once symbols of purity and order, now locked in brutal combat, leaves him in a state of disbelief. What sort of goal are they trying to accomplish?

His rebellion had a clear purpose: to gain equality and freedom. But even then, it didn't result in this kind of bloodshed.

Lucifer growls, his eyes narrowing as he surveys the chaos.

Lucifer: This isn't right. There must be some reason behind this madness!

Throughout the battlefield, he witnesses a horrifying scene: angels reanimating after being struck down, only to rise and continue their assault. The sight sends chills down Lucifer's spine.

Charlie: Dad, look out!

He was so distracted that he didn't notice an angel sneaking up behind him. Thankfully, it didn't land a hit as black tendrils struck it and hurled it into the still-burning embassy.

Turning, he found himself face to face with Alastor.

Lucifer: Thanks, Al.

Alastor: A pleasure, my dear.

Lucifer yelped as the Radio Demon grabbed his hand and placed his other hand on his waist, pulling him close until they were chest to chest.

Alastor: Care for a dance, sire?

Alastor asked, eyes twinkling with mischief.

The King of Hell snorted, amused. Of course, Alastor would pull something this shit at a time like this. Lucifer responds, smirking.

Lucifer: Why, it would be my pleasure.

They spun and danced, Lucifer casting Hellfire on some angels while Alastor's eldritch shadows served as both sword and shield.

At one point, Alastor decided to play a jazzy tune. Laughing at the absurdity of the situation, Lucifer almost forgot they were in a war.

He heard a few cheers from the battlefield.

Angel: You guys look sexy as fuck! Can I join you guys next time? Preferably in the bedroom too!

Okay, maybe most came from Angel Dust.

Lucifer and Alastor exchanged amused glances, continuing their surreal dance amidst the chaos.

After one more spin, Alastor takes Lucifer's hand and dips down to plant a small kiss on it.

Alastor: I'll be elsewhere then, mon ange. Do keep out of trouble.

As Alastor lets go and begins to walk away, he is suddenly pulled back. The feeling of lips pressing against his own startles him, but he melts into the kiss almost immediately.

Lucifer's arms snake around Alastor's neck, deepening the kiss. He kisses Alastor like there's no tomorrow.

For him, there truly might not be.

When they finally break apart, both are breathing heavily from the intensity of the moment.

Lucifer speaks before he even has a chance to think.

Lucifer: I love you.

The words shock them both, and for a moment, there is silence. Then Alastor's entire demeanor softens. He moves his hands up to cup Lucifer's face, holding him like he is his whole world and looking at him with the same intensity.

Alastor: And I adore you, my Lucifer.

Alastor replies, his voice filled with genuine affection.

Maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.

[noveloctoling]

Grand Festival Log #11 (FINALE)

So, this was Grand Festival. Through so much, we find ourselves here and now, many days and many nights of chaos and order dancing in unison after being split for so many years. The sunset shined colors of freedom and anarchy, to bring together so many people from across the world to the Splatlands. The night brought many tears of joy and connection between people. This morning also brings tears as we all realize the night was over.

Past, Present, Future, it's all the same in time. Time is a straightforward line, never stopping and never starting. It's ruthless and mean, but it's only doing what it does best. Us, as living beings, cannot change the past, nor can we see the future at the moment, but we can live in the moment. But that doesn't make the past or future any less important. We all just live in a cosmic hourglass that never ends.

It's beautiful really.

I hope that someday we can create peace between all people. That's what I want to fight for. I want to fight for peace, and then travel around to learn more about others. Splatsville is wonderful, but can't hold me forever. After all, time marches on no matter what.

It's been a wild ride gang. But I ain't done yet. I'm going to keep fighting until it's over.

Thank you. We will meet again, someday, somewhere.

YEAH I AM CRYING RIGHT NOW I'M IN MY FEELS ALSO THIS ISN'T A GOODBYE I'M STILL HERE AND I ALWAYS WILL BE HAAHAHAA

LEE SAYS HI BY THE WAY

[expresso-bean]

The Man Out of Time [A ShadAmy and Silver Story]: Chapter 13

Pairing: Shadow the Hedgehog x Amy Rose

Description: It has been seven years of peace following the grueling war with Eggman and his army. Though it took time to rebuild what they have lost, life for the Freedom Fighters could not be better. Whether it's finding love or trying to run from their past, celebrating post-war times has been different for each of them.

Will anyone believe the mysterious hedgehog's cry for help? Or will he be left to fight for his future alone? Read to find out!

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

POV: Silver the Hedgehog/Third Person

!! I do not own any of the art/gifs/borders used in my chapters. All credits to the rightful owners !!

Masterlist ❀ Ch.1 ❀ Ch.2 ❀ Ch.3 ❀ Ch.4 ❀ Ch.5 ❀ Ch.6 ❀ Ch.7 ❀ Ch.8 ❀ Ch.9 ❀ Ch.10 ❀ Ch.11 ❀ Ch.12

"Whatever, Chaos Control."

In a blink of an eye, both of us were in back in Amy's living room. I felt great knowing that Shadow had heard my calls for help, and it felt even greater to know that he cared about me in one way or another, whether he admitted it to himself or not.

"Shadow?"

Shadow turned to look at me from the bottom of the steps. The look he held wasn't one of anger or annoyance, but of concern.

"If you are about to ask to see her I suggest you hold your tongue. She is still resting and I'll be damned if you want me to wake her for something like this."

"Woah, calm down. I stare at her room for a couple of seconds and you think I want to talk to her at a time like this?"

"Be serious," Shadow had his teeth clenched in either anger or jealously. "Just because she trusts you and gives a damn about your life does not mean you know her as I do. Keep your distance and we will get along fine."

"Then what gives you the right to push people away for her. I feel guilty enough that I'm here, and even more guilty that I have to put her through this. You have no idea what I feel or who I am! So don't tell me what I can and cannot do!"

"At least I know what is best for her! You didn't even know her in your time!"

"That's why I am here! To make sure she lives to see the future! But you don't care about that! All you care about is that I am here and she cares about me now! Stop thinking with your jealously and start thinking with that 'oh so logical' brain of yours!"

I stormed away from him and made my way into the kitchen preparing to make myself a glass of chocolate milk. As I reached for a glass a memory began to play in my head.

--

A young Silver was running through the halls of his barren home, he giggled as he watched the toy rabbit he was playing with float in the air, covered with the mist of magic he calls his telekinetic powers. Unbeknownst to him, through Silver's laughs, his father's sobs rattled the walls of his room. Shadow was clutching the framed picture of his deceased wife, Amy Rose. The picture was taken in a field of pink wildflowers in mid-spring, right when they were at full-bloom. Amy was standing there in a red spring dress and a peach, wide brim hat. Her happiness shines through the smile she gives to the camera.

"You are more beautiful than any flower in any field." That is what Shadow had said when he took that picture.

A little over a year later, everything in that photo would cease to exist. The field would be destroyed. His Rose would die soon after. The memory of that day made Shadow cry harder into his free hand.

Silver passed by his father's room and heard the awful noise of sadness that seeped through the thin, wooden door. Usually, his father never let sadness run through him, and instead displayed an array of love and happiness whenever Silver saw him. To hear him so sad confused Silver.

"Papa?" Silver dropped the rabbit he was playing with and frowned. His little fingers tapped on the door, trying to get it open. But it was to heavy for Silver. "Papa? Papa, are you sad?"

Silver tapped on the door a little louder. The crying suddenly stopped. He heard silence then followed the shuffling of footsteps.

"Come in, Silver. Papa is alright."

Silver smiled as he excitedly opened the door. 

"Papa!" Silver ran to his father and engulfed him into a big hug. Shadow wrapped his arm around his son and used the other to pet his quills on his head. "Papa, were you sad?" 

Silver felt his father tense at the question, then he heard him sigh. 

"Yes, my son, Papa is sad. But it's okay, Papa will be okay. Don't worry." 

Silver looked up at his father and smiled brightly.

"Really?"

That smile made Shadow break inside; it was just like his precious Rose. Tears dropped down Shadow's tired face. 

"My son, you look just like your mother. You have her loving heart. Her beautiful eyes. Her bright smile." 

Silver looked confused as to why his father was crying. Usually, he would smile when he talked about the boy's mother, but this time was different.

"Papa?"

Shadow dried his tears and picked his son up. Silver giggled his father placed the young boy atop his shoulder. 

"Mommy loved you very much my son. She will always be with us." Silver simply nodded his head. He had wished he had met his mother, and every time he heard of her, it made him feel sad. Shadow took notice of this and walked towards the door. "Hey, what did I say about being sad? Only Papa can be sad around here."

"Why?"

"Because sad boys don't get chocolate milk."

"Chocolate milk! Okay, I'll stop being sad! I want chocolate milk, Papa!"

Shadow chuckled at the bouncing boy on his shoulder as he walked towards the kitchen and towards the refrigerator. Shadow put Silver down to prepare the two glasses of chocolate milk. Meanwhile Silver watched excitedly as his father poured in the chocolate syrup into the glasses and stirred them, making them a rich brown color. Shadow passed one glass to Silver and kept the other to himself.

"Hey! I thought sad boys couldn't drink chocolate milk!"

"But I'm not sad."

"Why?"

"Because, I have you here with me. That is all I need to be happy."

"Me too! And even more that I have chocolate milk."

"Always remember, my son, remember how much your father loves you."

"I love you too papa!"

--

I smiled through the tears running down my face, and I watched them as they dropped around the glass of chocolate milk.

"Rest easy my dear parents. We have a long road ahead of us."

[mayhaps-a-blog]

Well, another year down! I missed my usual fic roundup date in August (the day I published my first fic!), but I’ve always been terrible at remembering dates so switching to New Year’s will probably help. It’s now been 3 and a bit years since I started writing, and I’ve started breaking into original works – nothing finished yet, but I’ll get there one day!

Since the last roundup, I’ve written 11 fics, 101,030 words in total, for a lifetime total of 59 fics and 348,151 words! Again, fewer than last year, although I’m going to blame my original works – I completed NaNoWriMo last year with 50,000 words written in November, finished that particular work at 73,194 words, and finished “Novella November” (NovNov) this year with 30,000 words. So I’m definitely writing a lot, just longer works that take a while to beat into shape :)

Of the 11 fics I published this year, 8 were Star Wars fics, with the other 3 distributed between the Sandman, Babylon 5, and Dead Boy Detectives. Of the Star Wars fics, only 3 were Thrawn related; the other five were for Rebels, the Clone Wars, Aftermath, the Original Trilogy, and a Chiss OC.

So, here’s the roundup of fics for this year!

(Last year’s fic roundup can be found here! 2022 can be found here :) )

Series Additions:

The Adventures of the Poor Sods Left to Clean Up Rebel!Vader’s Mess has continued with three new chapters to part 2! A plot is developing, I promise, but the shenanigans continue with Rebel!Vader (explained in It’s Not So Easy Being Evil), the OT team, and the crew of the Executor all trapped on board together.

Thrawn Standalones:

I Came, I Saw… I Never Intended to Stay: Thrawn, recently purrgiled and trapped in the Unknown Regions, accidentally builds himself an empire. Oops? A long-promised multi-chapter fic, 30,185 words.

The Edge Between Dream and Nightmare: Also post-Rebels, Thrawn stumbles across a secret Imperial installation in the Chaos… one with terrible implications for the galaxy. But what can one ship do against the might of the Sith Eternal? Also starring Borika and the Springhawk, sky-walker fix-it and Chiss headcanon fic. This was originally mean to be a simple two-shot, I swear! Now at 9 chapters and 28.989 words.

Nightmare: Thrawn steps aboard the Chimaera. He is stabbed in the back. Thrawn steps aboard the Chimaera. He is removed from the field by a Jedi and a pod of purrgil. Thrawn steps aboard the Springhawk. What matters most, victory, or freedom? This is a darker fic for me, and it was toned down a lot from the original notes. One shot, 6,211 words.

Star Wars Standalones:

Somehow, Maul has Returned: Post-Rebels glance at Ezra, trapped on the Chimaera. Open ending, this is more of a prologue to a longer fic I haven’t come up with yet than anything else. If anyone wants to take the idea and run with it, please do!

Good Soldiers Follow Orders: A darker fic featuring Fox and the Coruscant Guard during the events of The Clones Wars season 6 episode 4: Orders. You know, the one where Fives… you know.

Some Pray for Damnation: The trial of Sid Uddra, head of the Loyalty Office, on the event of her capture by the New Republic. Collaboration with CountessLamont (@jedihlaalu) and a sequel to her fic, Hunting Uddra; much of the dialogue was reworked from our Star Wars D&D game.

Where the Ice Never Melts: A look at the life of my Chiss OC, Ran’i, and the lives of maintenance staff on Csilla. Featuring Chiss worldbuilding and headcanons, and the darker underbelly of the Ascendacy.

Other:

Catch a Tiger: Sandman fic starring Delirium. Another darker fic: it’s easy to forget in our wonder of the Endless that they are neither nice nor kind – they are only ever what they are.

The Delicate Art of Choosing Sides: A Babylon 5 AU fic of the behind-the-scenes events of S2E3: The Geometry of Shadows. What was Ivanova up to that left her limping out of the elevator, wearing a scarf and with a Drazi knocked out on the floor?

To Hell and Back: Dead Boy Detectives fic following Edwin’s original escape from Hell and first meeting with Charles.

New WIPs:

Borika’s story: the story of Borika’s return to the Seeker Program and meeting Bomarmo. Outines and partially written.

Thrawn: Year of Hell: a retelling of Star Trek Voyager: Year of Hell, but instead of the Krenim, they meet a warlord named Thrawn seeking to resurrect the Chiss Ascendancy and save his sister. Outlined.

Zine fics: I’m a writer for Finding Home: A Chiss Ascendancy Zine! In addition to my zine piece (drafted!) I came up with a bunch of other ideas I’ll write eventually, featuring character studies of various Ascendancy inhabitants.

Untitled Prequel/OT fic: AU where Anakin comes to his sense on Mustafar and flees with Padme and Obi-Wan, heartbroken about what he’d almost done. Follows their lives with Padme in the Rebellion and Obi-Wan and Anakin in hiding on Tatooine, collecting the shards of their broken family.

College!AU: Prequel AU where Anakin is the college jock, Padme is poli sci, Palpatine is the evil university president, the Jedi are the local Buddhists who raised Anakin after his foster-father, Qui-Gon, died. Of course everything goes poorly – Anakin is Anakin, and Palpatine is Palpatine, in every universe :) Outlined.

Kaz backstory fic: the history of one of my Star Wars D&D OCs, Kaz the pilot with a mysterious past! Outlined.

The Ravens of the Tower: A Sherlock Holmes story featuring some strange inhabitants of the Tower of London. If the ravens leave the tower, the empire will fall… (Outlined).

Underdark ghost story: an original work in my D&D universe, aiming for a horror tone. Outlined.

Dragon Story: an original work following a very angry dragon trapped in human form on a mission to kill the mage who cursed them. Along the way, they get (unwillingly) involved in local politics and palace shenanigans. My NovNov project, very fun to write, outlined and about halfway written!

Updates on:

Sortie: the Rebel!Samakro fic I promised to finish this year. It’s done! Just needs some editing to get it out the door :)

Have You Tried Flying in Circles: Thrawn & Apros look for an exile planet. Outlined, one section drafted.

This’ll Make a Great Story at our Second Wedding (Thranto Ghost Marriage) Part 2: Outlined, two sections drafted.

Untitled Boudica story: Original work, a fantasy retelling of Boudica’s rebellion. Drafted! In dire need of editing. Last year’s NaNoWriMo project.