#I’ll switch to Dutch accidentally

[moreespressoformydepresso]

I’ve already said I hc that Anthony speaks French when he’s having Big Feelings, but I would like to add to that: if it’s bad enough, he can get “stuck” in French. As in he genuinely cannot form English sentences even if he wants to. The words just don’t come to him, or they’re so jumbled and grammatically misplaced it’s unintelligible. And his friends understand like- four words in French combined. All of them via Anthony’s speaking the language. So if, say, he’s having a panic attack bad enough to get stuck, he will be unable to communicate why.

Not that he would if he could speak English, but the squad would have a fighting chance at figuring it out based on what he does say.

[queenxxxsupreme]

To Be In Your Arms (Arthur Morgan x f!reader)

A/N: my hand slipped and I accidentally wrote this in a half hour.... I was just aiming for little!spoon!Arthur and fluffiness and soft happiness but we got some sadness too....

Word Count: 1.0k

Warnings: mild anxiety attack, soft and angsty Arthur, fluffiness to make sad Arthur better, little spoon!Arthur

***

Bang. Bang. Bang.

The deafening gunshots echoed in Arthur’s ears. He squeezed his eyes shut, rocking forward on the edge of his seat to rest his face in his hands. 

Thunder rumbled quietly in the distance. Something wet hit the back of his neck. It was beginning to lightly rain. But he could hardly enjoy the oncoming thunderstorm with the thoughts that clouded his mind. 

He rubbed his eyes in an effort to get rid of the images of you receiving hit after hit by the man who got ahold of you while Arthur wasn’t paying attention. How could he let that man get his hands on you? It was his duty to keep you safe when you went out on jobs with him. Why did he let you get hurt? How could he be so careless? 

Any attempts to push the nightmarish thoughts from his mind were punished with more thoughts. Thoughts of you being hurt far more than you were. Thoughts of you being shot. Thoughts of you…. 

A gentle hand on his shoulder made him lift his head. You stood beside his chair, eyebrows drawn together in concern. 

“Is everything alright, bear?”

He said nothing at first, blue eyes flickering over your face, over the bruising beneath your left eye and cheekbone. They were fresh and still very prominent but they had yet to reach the terrible black and purple Arthur feared to see.

When you realized he was staring at the bruises, you moved your hair to cover the markings. 

Fearful that his gaze had made you self-conscious, Arthur looked away, eyes dropping to the ground between his boots almost immediately. In reality, you didn’t want him to worry anymore by staring. 

“Just fine, pumpkin.”

“Will you come to bed with me? It’s going to start raining soon.” You placed your hand on the back of his neck just above his collar. Your skin was cool, a stark contrast to the warm, muggy Lemoyne air. 

“In a little bit. Gotta talk to Dutch.”

“He’s gone to bed already.”

Arthur turned his head to see the lapels to Dutch’s tent were pulled down. Usually Dutch was one of the last ones to head to bed. How long had he been sitting out there at the table?

“I’ll be just a little bit. I ain’t really tired.”

Your fingers gently rubbed the nape of his neck and combed up into his hair. 

“Alright, bear.” You murmured. You didn’t want to fight him on it. He’d come to bed when he was ready. You leaned down to kiss the side of his head just above his ear. “I’ll be waiting for you. You know I can’t sleep properly without you.”

He smiled a little, your words making his chest tighten. But then for a split second he could see you taking a hard right hook to the face. 

He tilted his head down to the ground once more. 

“I’m, uh, I think I’m gonna see if the fellas need me on guard tonight.” 

You furrowed your brows, turning your head to look towards the entrance to camp. You had just seen Javier and Sean switch out with John and Charles. 

“I don’t think they’ll need you tonight, bear. John and Charles just took over–,”

“I should go talk to them–,” He started to stand up and walk away but you didn’t let him get very far. 

Your hand clasped around his elbow. 

“Arthur.”

“Y/N, pumpkin, you need to get some rest–,”

“Arthur, look at me.” You spoke firmly. 

He lifted his head up but the brim of his hat still blocked his eyes from you. 

You reached up to take the hat off of him and you gently placed it down on the table. 

Only then you were able to get a good look at his eyes. They were glossy and red with tears. 

“Arthur.” You tilted your head to the side, your heart breaking at the sight of how upset he was. 

“I-I just….” He trailed off, the words he wanted so desperately to say becoming stuck in his throat. The tears in his eyes broke free and fell down his cheeks. 

You wiped them away with featherlike fingertips. 

“Come on, bear.” You took his hand, giving his knuckles a kiss, then led him towards his caravan. 

He followed you wordlessly. 

You let his hand go only to put down the lapels to the tent. 

“I-I thought I lost– I thought I lost you.” He choked out as you turned to face him. “You-You were gettin’ hit and then the gun– I couldn’t see when it went off–,”

“I know.” You motioned for him to sit down on the side of the cot. He did so and then grabbed your hands. “I’m sorry it scared you, bear. But I promise you I’m okay.” 

He squeezed your fingers, leaning his head forward to rest against your stomach. He let one of your hands go, choosing to hold on to the side of your leg with one hand and grip your fingers with his other hand. 

“I-I’m sorry. M’so sorry.” His words were muffled. 

“You have no reason to be sorry, bear.” You began to comb your fingers through his hair. 

“It’s my job-I’m the one who’s supposed to protect you.” 

“I’m perfectly fine, Arthur. I promise you that you did absolutely nothing wrong today. You were trying to keep Sean from getting his ass kicked.”

You both stood like that for a while. You began to hum to him while you combed your fingers through his hair. 

When you were sure he had calmed down enough, you suggested sleep. 

“I think we both need some rest, bear. It’s been a long day.”

He nodded, lifting his head from your stomach. He wiped his tear stained cheeks with the back of his hands. 

“Can you…. Can you hold me?”

“Of course.” You gave him a soft smile, leaning down to kiss his forehead. 

After getting down to comfortable clothes, he clambered onto the cot. 

You climbed in behind him, pressing your chest to his back. You hooked one knee over his hip and slipped your arms underneath his, holding on to him tightly. 

“Won’t your arm go numb under me?”

“I’m not worried about it.” You giggled a little, happy to be the big spoon. 

You tucked your nose into his neck and gave him a little kiss. 

“I love you, bear.”

His hand rubbed circles into the back of your hand. 

“Love you more, pumpkin.”

Taglist:  @doggone-cowgirl @winterwolf @lauramb7 @caraqas @bluscryn @krenee1drful @zodiacaldust @nonodino @cal-lifornication @thefirelordm @sargeantsea @sokkasdarling @thecollection @mayday1284 @kashasenpai @misskrql @brooke-supernatural16 @lassiee @hocdolliday @micahs-bird

If your name is in italics, it wouldn’t let me tag you :(

[lizzielikeborden]

Braids

Request: No it wasn’t one, until I get some I am using a random generator :)

Character: Diego Hargreeves 

 Prompt: Fluff- 10. “Stop moving and let me braid your hair.”

Summary: Diego refuses to cut and or trim his hair, though it is getting long enough to get in his way ever so slightly. He’s complaining about it so you decide to fix it for him. 

“Mother fucker.” A metal spoon hit the table with a clang as cuss words rang out from your boyfriends mouth a second morning in a row.

There Diego sat, cereal with milk in a nice ceramic bowl on the table. But some of the milk was missing from the bowl. Not that anyone could tell just by looking at the bowl, it was more or less the white substance soaked into the front pieces of his hair. 

“Maybe if you didn’t eat like a dog with your head in the bowl that wouldn’t happen.” The sly comment got you a look from Diego who was not at all happy with the situation.

“I was not eating like a dog, I was eating normal.” He picked up his spoon and pointed the metal utensil at you defending his cereal eating.

“Then how in the world did you get the milk in your hair?” You walked over and touched a piece of his milk-soaked hair gently. 

“Because my hair does this.” He scooted his chair back to face you, the piece of hair you once held slipped your grasp. Diego took his hands in his hair and ruffled it around into its natural part. 

“I don’t understa-”

Before you could finish he tipped himself forward, and all of his hair fell forward into his face. The wavy pieces covered his eyes, nose, and mouth almost completely.

“See. It’s a mess, and before you say it no. I will not be cutting it.” He lifted his head to face you again, running his hands through his hair until it was no longer in his face. Diego had a slightly serious pout on his face, he reached out and grabs your hand pulling you closer to him. 

You thought for a moment as he held both your hands, as you stood there he intertwined your fingers with his. A smile snuck onto your face as an idea popped into your head. Diego noticed that smirk from anywhere and he raised an eyebrow to you. 

“I have an idea.” You took a step back and pulled his hands forward, though you are not strong enough to pull him Diego agrees to follow you and allows the rest of his body to rise from the chair. 

You made your way into the bathroom of your shared apartment, “What are we doing?” Diego questioned, your plan had not yet become clear to him. 

“Well in order for me to do anything with your hair it kind’ve can’t have milk in it.” You moved around where he stood and turned on the faucet. As you checked the water temperature Diego got a towel from one of the lower bathroom cabinets. 

“Put your head under the faucet.” 

Diego sighed and took off his tank-top, got down on his knees, and leaned his head over the edge of the bathtub. You then, took off your socks and got in. 

“We could’ve just taken a shower.” Diego commented as you took the shower head from its post and switched the setting to a stronger jet. 

“Hold still.” With your free hand you flipped all his hair over his face completely and started rinsing out all the milk along with cleaning the rest. Then you got a small palm of shampoo and massaged it into his scalp. 

“Should I close my ey-”

Before he could finish his sentence you were rinsing the shampoo out,

“IT’S IN MY EYES.” Diego took his hands off his legs and rubbed his eyes violently. 

You just sighed and put a light amount of conditioner in the ends of his hair and rinsed it out as well. Before you could reach over him to get the towel you felt water spray across your shirt and pants. Not only had Diego taken the shower head but he was shaking his hair around. Water was now found almost everywhere in the bathroom. 

“I thought you weren’t like a dog.” You scowled at him lightly and stepped out of the tub grabbing the towel. Diego turned off the faucet and sat on the toilet lid. You ran a hand through his hair and got behind him, sitting yourself down behind him. You reached up and wrapped  the towel around his hair ruffling it around. He pulled himself back a bit in shock, not exactly expecting you to jostle his head around. Once it was drying a bit you grabbed the brush off the sink and brushed his hair out gently. He leaned back into you and even though it made your job harder he was enjoying himself. You smiled at kissed his forehead once you were done brushing.

You got up and he looked at you like ‘uh get back here what are you doing’. 

“I have to get these.” You pulled open the drawer and shook a container of thin hairbands at him. 

“What do you think you’re doing with those?”

You ran back to your spot and wrapped your arms around his shoulders as you began to try and convince him to just trust the process,

“I promise it’s gonna be good, cmon, I will let you do my hair if you let me do yours.”

“I am willing to make a deal but not that one.”

“So then what is it that you want?” You laid a head on his shoulder and pressed your forehead against his cheek. 

“I can think of one good thing I know you’ll go for.” He put a hand on one of your thighs that sat next his. 

“It isn’t really a deal if I enjoy both things, but, I’ll take it.” You sat back and began to braid the right side of his hair back into a small dutch braid, and then did the same to the left. Then you realized they were slightly uneven and started over on the left side. You worked quickly due to the fact that Diego was clearly getting impatient and bored. Diego continued to play with your thighs and would not hold still.Then you took both the ends, added in some hair, and made a tiny little bun out of it. You stood up, which alarmed him because he was not expecting that. 

“See that took barely any time at all and you’re done.” 

He got up from his seat and looked in the mirror at what you had done. Whisps of small wavy baby hairs came from both sides of his face and touched his forehead right above his eyebrows. The braids were quite even, which was shocking due to how much he was accidentally moving his head around. And the bun was messy but it did keep all of his hair in one spot.

“This looks badass.” Diego tilted his head at different angles, clearly impressed with the job you had done. 

“I know, looks hot on you.” You stood next to him as you watch him hype himself up in the mirror. 

“I think I know an angle you would like better.” He turned to face you and lifted your head up with his hand on your chin.

“Show me”....

[marvelsdc22]

Into The Wild West pt. 1

Intro: Hello, lovelies!! I hope you guys are having a good day/night!! I decided to get started on this a little early, I hope that’s alright? Also, I’m not expecting too many people to read this, but I’m gonna have fun with it anyways!! Enjoy~

Note: Lena and Alex are working on something, Kara wants to find out what... Lets just say, the results are... Unexpected. This is going to be a slow burn(I’m planning on going through a good portion of the game).

Word Count: 1147

When Kara walked into Alex’s lab, she was not surprised to see her working away on something on the table in front of her, but what did surprise her was that Lena was there as well, working on some large experiment “What’s going on here?” Kara asked, looking between the two as they just barely glanced at her “It’s something that Lena needed help with” Alex said, her just helping since it was a particularly slow day at the DEO which was both a blessing and a curse, the answer causing Kara to huff, she was unsure about Lena at the moment since she had only just showed up about a month ago, but she couldn’t help the pull she had when it came to her, not like she’d tell her that.

“Do you guys need help?” Kara asked, looking at them and watching as they both gave her a look, to which she raised her hands up in surrender “Okay okay, I’ll just… Sit over here” she said, going and sitting down in one of the chairs and watching as the two of them worked… Well, Lena work, watching her work was mesmerizing and she couldn’t help but focus on the way her nose crinkled as she looked at the machine in front of her, seeming to try to figure something out with it and not hearing Alex calling her name until a hand was waved in her face “What?” She asked, jumping and looking at Alex who raised an eyebrow at her.

“Can you pick up some things for me?” Alex asked again, crossing her arms as she looked at Kara and watching as she glanced over at Lena before nodding and standing up “Sure, what do you need?” Kara asked, looking at Alex who rolled her eyes before pulling a list out of her pocket and handing it to Kara “Oh, can you get some things for me as well?” Lena asked, looking at Kara who stared at her for a moment before she nodded “Of course” she said, feeling her heart skip a beat when Lena gave her a hint of a smile which was weird, what was she feeling right now?

After Lena handed her the list, Kara headed out in search of the necessary items “That should keep her busy for a while” Alex said, sighing some before turning back to the notes on the table “What do you need this for anyway?” She asked, her still iffy on Lena as well, but what she offered with this experiment was too good to pass up “Something for my mother” Lena said simply, obviously not going to dive much deeper into that which made Alex even more curious, but she just turned and went back to work.

Later that night, Kara came back with bags on her arms, her super strength making it easy to carry the bags and going back into the room to see that Alex and Lena had gone somewhere Break perhaps? She thought to herself as she set the bags down on a table that was mostly clear, going over to the large machine that Lena had been working on a few hours earlier and humming as she looked it over, glancing over at the door to make sure no one was coming before she ran her hand along the machine, furrowing her brows as she looked it over.

As she was looking at the machine, she didn’t hear Lena’s heels clicking on the tiled floors nor heard the door open “What are you doing?” Lena asked harshly, causing Kara to jump and accidentally flip a switch “I-“ She said, freezing when a blinding light appeared from the center of the machine and seemed to engulf them just as Alex and Maggie walked in, claiming them as well.

The next thing they knew, they splashed into water, bringing a shock to their systems until they resurfaced “What the heck?!” Kara spluttered, her blonde hair sticking to her face and trying to wipe the water out of her eyes as the other three splashed around to regain their bearings “Where are we?” Alex asked, being the first to realize that they sure as hell weren’t anywhere near National City “Lena, where are we?” She asked, looking at Lena since this was her machine “I-I don’t know” Lena said, looking around and not recognizing anything around them before they heard another voice on the edge of the pond they had fallen into.

“Oh hell” you said, not sure what you had just seen and not even realizing your fishing rod had been pulled into the water by the fish that had grabbed it “How-“ you said, looking very confused and rubbing your eyes to make sure you weren’t seeing things and nope… Those four women, very attractive women you might add, were very much real and had very much just appeared above the water moments ago “Dutch won’t believe this” you said, watching as the women swam towards you and you took a step back, nearly running into your horse that had been grazing behind you.

The women slowly made their way out of the water before trying to get the water out of their hair “Where are we?” The blonde asked, looking at you and you blinked at her for a moment before you cleared your throat and adjusted your hat “Well ladies, you’re in New Hanover” you said, your southern drawl coming out since the shock was wearing off and seeing the looks of confusion on their faces “What year is it?” the black-haired woman asked, looking at you and you quirked an eyebrow at her “1899” you said, watching as shock overtook their features before the blonde turned to the black-haired woman “Lena! We time traveled!” She shouted, sounding more shocked than anything and this all just confused you even more.

“Time what now?” You asked, trying to make sense of all this but this seemed well above your experience level “Y’all okay? Did ya hit your heads?” You asked, looking at them and glancing at your pocket watch “Look, as much as I’d love to understand what’s happening here, I have to go” you said, going over to your solid black mustang, Sid, before hopping onto him “Wait!” The blonde shouted, causing you to groan before you looked at her, your patience wearing thin “We have nowhere to go” she said, looking at you and seeing you about to argue before she gave you puppy eyes “Dammit..” You muttered, looking away before sighing and looking at them once more “Follow me” you said, clicking your tongue and gently squeezing Sid’s sides with your calves to get him moving, not bothering to look back as you moved forward “Dutch is going to kill me” you said once more, just hoping he’d find it in him to understand.

Permanent Taglist: @rianncreates​ / @natasha-danvers​ / @youngandwildx7​ / @stewie-castle​ / @hopingforbarnes​

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End Note: I hope you guys enjoyed!! If you’d like to be added to a Taglist, shoot me a DM or an Ask!! Have a good day/night!! :)

Requests Open

[scarfacemarston]

I wonder besides camp upgrades if there is another factor in what character interactions get triggered? For instance in my game(completely upgraded)John was still acting like a buttmunch up until chapter 4, but you and others have gotten the cuter instances between him and Abigail. It got me thinking perhaps there’s some kind of internal tally of how many times Arthur greets them and exhausts their dialogue? Bc I never really did with John however you and other big fans of his probably went out of your way to talk to him more so maybe that’s the difference?

Yeahhh that’s a good question. I think it’s an RNG thing. Sometimes, I’ll have John be the sweetest thing I’ve ever seen. In some playthroughs, he and Abigail are straight-up acting like a couple. You wouldn't know they were estranged.  Sometimes, Dutch hates me from the beginning. Sometimes, I’m the golden boy. Sometimes Sean or Karen may act sassier I really think it’s random because I have conversations where there are two or three versions. One fight between John and Abigail is with her sounding calmer, another where he is more depressed, and one where they are absolutely going at it with each other. I know it also makes a difference depending on when you speak to them and how. If you ignore them too long, they will say something. John especially, he’ll ask why you’re avoiding him. I was playing low honor and switched to a brand new game to play high honor. I was so used to antagonizing people, when I first said hello to Abigail (My girl lol), I accidentally antagonized her and now she hates my guts forever. She is really mean to me now. lol All of the characters can get that way. But in my low honor play-through, they are all really passive? And kind? It’s weird. My very first playthrough was a high honor and everyone hated me.  So I think it’s random.

[princesssarcastia]

we’re tunneling under rock bottom, lads.

alrighty then.  ladies, gentlemen, and those of you who know better: here it is.  just laying bear the incredible shame which is my current descent back into hp.  I’ve been reading lots of fic, and now i’m having a lot of thoughts about it.  putting them under a readmore because I’m morally opposed to even accidentally subjecting people to this if they don’t want to see it.   in the immortal words of groucho marx, these are my principles thoughts, and if you don’t like them....well, i have others.

ugh. oh god. here we go.

i’m frankly disgusted with the way james potter is frequently cast as this HIMYM-Ted-Mosby-like character, who meets a woman—no, doesn’t even meet her.  just sees her.  and decides this is the woman he’ll marry, and then continues to pursue her even though she makes it clear she’s not interested...FOR YEARS...sort of casts himself as a wounded, sympathetic party...and then eventually succeeds!!  which is some Narrative Bullshit, because it implies that’s a way to get someone to go out with you, Which It Isn’t.  like, I don’t think this interpretation even has any canon grounding, but that’s beside the point because canon is a roast and I am carving off only the bits I want to eat for consumption.

the mindset i’m using to justify this to myself is that.  look.  tmi hour with princesssarcastia.  these books actually do mean a lot to me.  they were the books that made me like to read!  they opened a whole world for me; not just the world of HP but countless others, some better written, some much much worse.  it was like they flipped a switch in my head and suddenly i had this glorious form of escapism that had been in front of me all along but that I could now take advantage of.  I would literally not be the same person I am today if I hadn’t read them.  i know everyone says that but I really do mean it.  hell yes I should, and WILL, be more critical of the source material and the fan material now, compared to when I first read them.  I should not only be more critical, but I should also openly criticize it and its author, JK Rowling.  But it’s like with lovecraft, okay; he was shit and JRK is shit, but they laid out the bare bones of something more spectacular than their tiny, bigoted minds could fully flesh out.  so now, fleshing it out is our job, especially so we can rub it in their racist, transphobic, antisemetic faces that we’re way better at it than they ever were.

still hate snape!  really, really do.  he’s a bigot and a bully and he never changed, and the fact that he was poor and his father abused him doesn’t change that or make him redeemable somehow.  It makes him more interesting, sure!  More fleshed out, more three dimensional.  But as a person he still sucks.  He was Neville’s boggart!  And not in the way that McGonagall was Hermione’s boggart; not like some face or representation of a more abstract fear.  It was Literally just snape that Neville feared more than anything else in the world, and I will not abide that.  Snape is bad for the same reason Umbridge is bad: your teachers are supposed to be people you can trust, they are people entrusted with your welfare, they are supposed to broaden your horizons and introduce you to the world around you in increasingly complex but ALWAYS, ALWAYS KIND ways.  Snape does not do that.  And I always thought the idea of him still loving Lily decades after he inadvertently sent Voldemort on the path to murdering her, and spending those decades doing something he hated and making the children in his care as miserable as he was, was much more sad than it was romantic.  That’s not a romance, that’s a tragedy that he walked into with his eyes wide open, and karmically deserved.

The best fics are the ones that understand that Ron Weasley was harry’s first friend, that he was kind, and that his jealousy and temper didn’t make him any less those things.  Ron Weasley is a ride-or-die bitch with, frankly, more emotional intelligence than hermione had sometimes, and I respect the hell out of him.

There really must have been more to the wizarding world than Harry ever sees, and that makes it fertile ground for fandom to grow its own ideas in.  For instance, to fight a war against all the death eaters, their families, the bigoted ministry employees, and the snatchers, there simply MUST have been more order of the phoenix members than were named, the first time ‘round and the second.

When you think about it, the concept of the Order of the Phoenix is actually fascinating. because on the one hand, it’s kind of a private paramilitary group?  It’s basically a militia populated by some government employees, INCLUDING cops, and schoolteachers, and healers, and sometimes your neighbors.  That’s sort of a scary thought in the abstract, though it does literally happen in the U.S. allll the time.  But on the other hand, it’s a group of people dedicated to taking direct action against rising fascism in their government and society.  punch nazis 1995, amirite?

Very excited because today, for the first time, I read a harry potter fic where someone (hermione, of course) mentions human rights. [dead men have no tails, by DuskGlass] and it’s very offhand, narratively; there’s not deep exploration of it.  But it leads to some wider questions I’ve been musing over...

...which is, even though the wizarding world is separate from the muggle world, how does that work out historically?  specifically when it comes to shitty stuff, though there are certainly nicer areas of this to explore if you’d like to.  For instance, How involved were british wizards in colonial efforts?  Did british, french, and dutch colonists in the americas participate in the genocide against native people there?  In the atlantic slave trade?  How involved was the british wizarding world in colonizing India?  And, were native american wizards and indian wizards involved in that conflict?  I mean, i can’t imagine they weren’t.  And if they weren’t, and the european forces still succeeded anyway, they the european wizarding world would have to have been involved in that, right?  when exactly did wizarding and muggle society start splitting far enough apart that muggle wars were not wizarding affairs?  Are there wizards in every country on the planet?  Is there the same level of disengagement in every other country as there is in Great Britain? These are questions i’m sure Hermione must have gotten answered for herself at some point.  I’d like to know the answers as well.

In retrospect, a lot of Hogwarts classes seem centered around defense and offense; in training people in combat, even if that’s not explicitly what they call it.  not in any fudge/umbridge esque “they’re training the kids in combat to take over the government!!!!” way, but in a “this world is actually very, very dangerous, from creatures to rogue magical objects or rogue magical people who mean you harm.”  That’s a fascinating mindset to have; it’s a fascinating paradigm to shift to, I imagine, especially for muggleborns.  Sort of prudent in canon, given the whole Voldemort thing, but it makes you wonder if the wizarding world then just always has some kind of asshole trying to take it over and kill a bunch of people along the way.

I’ll probably have more thoughts at some point, but that’s it for now.  feel free to discuss these, or any other, harry potter thoughts with me further.  I gotta get my enrichment somehow.

[mistydacat]

Marichat Day 10 || Can I borrow your miraculous

This is technically Ladrien, but frankly, I don’t give a crap.

Marinette Dupain-Cheng lay in her bed, snuggling up against her boyfriend. Tikki was nowhere to be seen but was probably eating some sort of sugary snack somewhere.

"Adrien?" She started. He opened his eyes to look at her.

"Yes, Purr-incess?"

"Do you think I'd purr and stuff as Lady Noire?"

His cat ear twitched in confusion.

"I don't see why not. Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know, I was just thinking. To be honest, there were a lot of things we didn't get the chance to explore when we switched miraculous. I barely even got time to process the outfit change during the battle. You know the braid was supposed to be my tail? I thought that was really cool. I wonder if I could undo the braid, and I'd just have really long hair."

Cat Noir chuckled. "You were very cute as Lady Noire."

Marinette gave him a pointed look. "What? I'm not cute when I'm Marinette, Multimouse, or Ladybug?"

Cat Noir smiled and leaned to rub his nose against hers in an Eskimo kiss.

"You know what I mean."

"Anyways, I hope we get another opportunity to switch miraculous. I'd like to be Lady Noire again."

He knew Marinette wouldn't say, "Can I borrow your Miraculous?" probably because she didn't want him to think she was obnoxious, so she was strongly hinting at it.

Cat Noir started sliding his ring off, his transformation coming off with it. Plagg appeared.

"The Miraculous aren't meant to be used for you to play dress-up with them." He grumbled in his nasal voice.

"We know, but just this once? We'll leave you alone to hang out with Tikki afterwards." Marinette promised, knowing the two kwamis enjoyed spending time alone together, though neither of them would admit it. "And, I'll make croissants with camembert."

"Alright, fine." He gave in with a huff. "But just with once!"

Marinette removed her earrings and handed them to Adrien, who put them on his own ears. Even though only the ring would be activated, the idea of wearing both the Miraculous of creation and destruction made her feel uneasy.

"Plagg, claws out! She said. There was a flash of green light, and her pyjamas were replaced with a black catsuit. Her hair grew much longer and into a braid. One her transformation was complete, she looked up at Adrien, who was now in his own "I heart Ladybug" pyjamas.

"You look adorable!" He gushed.

She twirled the end of her braid around. "Are those Ladybug pyjamas I see?" She teased.

Adrien's cheeks coloured slightly.

"Well, I'm flattered." She practically purred.

"I'm going to put my hair down, mind lending a hand?"

Adrien nodded.

Lady Noire got up and went to her vanity, grabbing a hairbrush before returning to Adrien. She placed the brush down next to her and removed the green elastic from the end of her braid before starting to unbraid it.

It took her a while, and Adrien had to help her. Once she was finished, her hair practically pooled around her. Adrien picked up the hairbrush, and Lady Noire turned, so her back was facing away from him.

He took a section of her hair and started to brush it.

"Tell me if I hurt you, okay?" He said, placing a kiss on her shoulder, though there were no knots or tangles in her hair.

"Okay." Lady Noire agreed.

"Can I do your hair?" Adrien asked after he finished brushing it out.

"You know how to do hair?" Marinette turned to face him, looking impressed.

"Yeah. How would you like me to do yours?" He responded.

"I don't know, surprise me."

Adrien thought for a moment before an idea hit him. He parted her hair into two halves and began working on braiding one of them, starting from her hairline.

"Tell me if it's too tight, 'kay?"

"Mhmm."

Around fifteen minutes later, Adrien was done. The two teenagers got up and went to the mirror so Marinette could see herself, Adrien had braided two elegant dutch braids into her hair, leaving out her bangs and the shorter strands at the front.

"Wow, this looks great!" Gushed Marinette. She turned to Adrien, taking his hands and placing a kiss atop his knuckles. "My purr-ince is very talented."

"You could do your hair in any style and still look beautiful." Adrien complimented. His innocent demeanour shifted, turning a little more flirty, a side of him he would only show as Cat Noir.

"Now, let's see what Cat tendencies I can coax out of you like you always do to me." He smirked, pulling Marinette to sit next to him on her chaise.

Marinette lay her head on his side, the way she had watched him do many times before.

"This feels a little awkward." She admitted, her right cat ear squished against him.

"Don't worry," He said, leaning down to place a kiss on her head. "You'll forget about it soon." He paused for a second.

"I've never been on the giving end of this before, so if I do something wrong, or make you feel uncomfortable, just tell me."

Lady Noire nodded.

Adrien brought his left hand to her head, scratching gently behind her ear. His other hand went to take or gloved one, tracing slow circles on the back of her palm.

Lady Noire closed her eyes, relaxing into his touch.

"You're good at this." She whispered.

Adrien let go of her hand, placing his index finger under her chin and using his thumb to stroke her cheek. He tilted her face towards him and leaned down, placing a soft kiss on her nose's tip.

"My Kitty." He cooed.

Lady Noire blushed and looked away, a soft rumble sounding from her chest.

Was this how Cat Noir felt when she did this to him? Did his stomach flutter with butterflies at every touch, like hers was doing now?

"You're so cute." Continued Adrien, meeting her eyes.

"Who's my little kitten?" He asked, his voice patronizing, though she found it strangely satisfying.

"Me." She purred. "I'm your kitten." In any other situation, this would have been extremely embarrassing, but something about it was so intoxicating. Her brain felt foggy and sleepy.

"Good kitten." Adrien praised, though she hadn't really done anything. "Such a good kitty."

His words were like music to her ears. Her purrs grew louder, her way of telling him to keep going when she didn't trust her mouth to form coherent words.

"You have no idea how cute you look right now." He moved his fingers, focusing on a different part of her head to pet.

Marinette didn't know why, but him rubbing that specific spot just felt so good. She leaned into his touch, rubbing her head against his hand and accidentally letting out a soft mewl.

Adrien stilled. "Did you just..?"

Lady Noire whimpered and buried her head against his side, bring a hand to her face and hiding behind it. Her purrs silenced.

"No, no! I didn't mean it like that! Don't be embarrassed, I've done the same."

She uncovered her face and looked up at Adrien. Damn, she really felt like a cat.

"Can you do it again?" He asked, sounding a little shy.

Lady Noire took his hand and guided back to her head.

"Just keep doing what you were doing before." She mumbled lazily.

"Do you like it here?" He asked, scratching the spot that he had been petting before.

She mewled in response, closing her eyes as the sound of her purring filled the room again.

They continued like this for a while, Lady Noire getting sleepier and sleepier as time went on. Adrien was very much aware of this, so he wasn't surprised when she sat up on all fours, stretched and yawned, arching her back as she did so. Then she curled into a ball and placed her head in Adrien's lap.

"I'm going to sleep." She announced, her words slurred.

"Goodnight, ma Minette." He said, sighing and gazing tenderly at her.

She hummed in response, already halfway to Dreamland.

Adrien waited until she had been asleep for a few minutes before picking her up and carefully carrying her to bed. He tried to lower her down, but she held on to him, snuggling against his chest.

"You're too cute for your own good," Adrien whispered.

Realizing there was no way to leave without waking her, Adrien lay on the bed with Marinette wrapping herself around him. He carefully removed his ring from her hand, replacing the earing in her ears before sliding it back on his own finger.

Plagg flew out of the ring when Marinette detransformed, opening his mouth to complain, most likely. Adrien shushed him before he has the chance to start talking by placing a finger to his lips and pointing to Marinette.

"Tikki's probably in the bakery eating. If you wake Marinette or her parents, I will end you. Got it?" He whispered to Plagg.

Plagg nodded in understanding and dashed downstairs to meet his Sugarcube.

Adrien pulled the covers over him and his sleeping girlfriend, kissing the top of her head and whispering, "I love you, ma Minette."

Marinette stirred in her sleep, and Adrien worried he had woken her, but she only snuggled closer to him.

Then she muttered something that almost made his heart leap out of his chest.

"I love you, my Purr-ince."

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰ Parts: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10

[ofsinnersandsaints]

ONE NIGHT AND EVERY MORNING AFTER

rating: E (but this chapter is just G) total word count: 18080 chapter: 3/?

this me showing up fourth months late with Dutch Bros and mutual pining

AO3

Living with the Charmed Ones was not an easy endeavor. Aside from the fact he had never lived with quite so many females before, Harry had neglected to fully take into account being in the same house as Macy for more than a few hours at a time.

He had never particularly believed in the romantic concept of being able to smell another person, but he would swear on the Book of Shadows he could smell Macy everywhere. It had been bad enough in his apartment when he would convince himself he could smell her on his pillow case despite having washed it multiple times since she’d rested her head on it.

Now her scent was everywhere. It was driving him a little bit mad, and only ever went away when he was making breakfast. Then of course she’d come downstairs in a pair of shorts and a sweatshirt for coffee. Her eyes still groggy and her spine relaxed as if she’d briefly forgotten she was carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.

Harry sat up in his makeshift bed and ran a hand over his face. He’d been trying to go to sleep for a few hours now and he was officially giving up. Grabbing his things, he headed down the stairs to the bathroom. He’d take a shower and get ready for the day, try to figure what to do next.

He opened the door and was immediately overtaken by the scent of spruce and cinnamon.

“Harry!”

The feminine scold was enough to make him take a step back, but it took him another second to understand what he was looking at. After a few blinks his gaze focused on a wet Macy who was barely covered by the bubbles in her bath.

“What are you doing?”

He watched as her embarrassment quickly switched to exasperated amusement, “Building a boat. What does it look like I’m doing?”

“It’s one in the morning,” he pointed out inanely.

“And yet here you are.”

“I couldn’t sleep,” he admitted and tried to figure out whether he was supposed to stay or leave because instead of kicking him out she closed her eyes as if she was comfortable with his presence, sinking lower into the tub and resting her head back against the tub.. “Figured I might as well get on with the day.”

Macy opened her eyes and turned her head to look at him. “Is everything okay?”

He kept his gaze on her face, because allowing his eyes to drift anywhere else was a sure way to get himself in trouble. For the briefest of moments he pondered telling her the truth, that she was reason he couldn’t get to sleep.

What would her response be? They hadn’t brought up the kiss in the woods, an unspoken agreement between them both not to speak of it. And yet wasn’t it still there between them, like a flame getting hotter?

“Merely restless,” he finally answered because it was at least mostly true. “Can I inquire as to why you’re in the bath at one in the morning?”

“Late night bubble baths are my safe space. Usually it’s quiet and the only time I can get an uninterrupted hour to myself.” Her smirk was all soft amusement, “Usually.”

“Might be a good idea to use the lock on the door then.”

Macy laughed, the sound muffled to keep from waking her sisters who were just down the hall. “I didn’t think I needed to at one in the morning.”

Harry leaned against the counter, happy to enjoy this quiet moment with Macy without all her guards and walls up. It was such a rare thing he’d be more than willing to wake up at one am every morning just to see it. “And what if I had been a demon?” he teased. “I could have walked right in here and killed you.”

She snorted, “I have never seen a demon thwarted by a lock.”

“Fair point.”

“And besides,” she picked her hand up out of the bath, bubbles and water sliding down her skin as she wiggled her fingers. “I’m always armed.”

His eyes got distracted by the water and the skin and the reminder Macy was naked underneath those opaque bubbles which would evaporate sooner rather than later.

He thought about walking towards her, pulling her out of the bath or joining her in it. Her sisters were asleep, weren’t they? And the attic was far enough away they could –

“UGH!”

The sound caught both Macy and himself by surprise, but Harry immediately recognized it as Maggie bemoaning from her bedroom. He turned to Macy, whose hand was still up and before he realized what was happening he was being thrown out the open door and slammed against the wall behind him.

It took a moment for Harry to get his bearings about him, and by the time he was standing up Macy was covered in a towel and Maggie was standing in the hallway with a rolled up yoga mat for a weapon. He should seriously considering getting them actual weapons to fight with.

When he looked to Macy she appeared extremely apologetic, but the three ribs he was more than certain were bruised were enough to ignore it. “A telekinetic force bolt of that magnitude was quite uncalled for.”

She tried for a smile and wiggled her fingers. “Always armed.”

“The demonstration wasn’t required, but if I didn’t believe you before, I certainly believe you now.”

“It is the middle of the night,” Maggie pointed out, finally lowering the bright pink weapon. “What are you two doing?”

“I was taking a bath,” Macy answered a little to quickly to be casual. “Harry walked in, I panicked.”

“You should really knock before going into the bathroom if the door is closed,” Maggie suggested prosaically. “Oh! I wonder if there’s a privacy spell in the Book of Shadows?”

There likely was, but he didn’t need to be thinking about that right now. “What are you doing up?”

Maggie grimaced. “I need a guilt removing spell. I’m meeting Lucy for coffee, and I haven’t seen her since the accident.”

Beside him Macy grinned and stepped closer to him. “Accident? You mean kissing her boyfriend?”

Harry resisted the urge to put his hand on Macy when she moved into his space, but he couldn’t resist teasing Maggie. “Yes, how does one accidentally press one’s lips against another?”

“When one has to distract another from walking into an exorcism,” she quipped back.

Mel came out of her bedroom then to scold them all for waking her up at one am and then the Vera sisters went back to their rooms. When the doors were closed Harry stepped back towards Macy, keeping his voice low. “What, pray tell, was that for?”

She reached out, one hand keeping her towel in place and while the other pressed against the fabric of his pajamas. He’d never hated a garment so much in his life.

“I’m so sorry,” she apologized and her scent surrounded him as she moved closer, a spell in and of itself. “I panicked. I heard Maggie and I started thinking about what would happen if she saw you in the bathroom while I was in the bath.”

“Naked,” he corrected, and could hear the change in his own voice with the word.

Her eyes darted up, a quick hitch in her breath as she did so. “What?”

“While you were naked in the bath.”

“It would be a little silly if I was wearing a bathing suit,” she teased but he could see goosebumps covering her arms.

Harry glanced up at the closed doors of Maggie and Mel before he reached up and cupped her elbow, his thumb pressed into the skin. A steady pressure, a promise and a dare.

He was a stupid man with dangerous desires.

Macy’s fingers curled into the fabric of his robe. “I should probably go to bed,” her eyes dipped down to his mouth and of its own accord his free hand came up to her hip. “Some of us have jobs to get to in the morning.”

“I’ll have you know I have a job,” he reminded her and it would be the easiest thing in the world to tug off her towel and taking the teasing glint in her eye upstairs. “It’s quite a difficult one, in fact.”

“Do tell.”

“I have to watch after three rather difficult sisters.”

She grinned, “They sound awesome.”

“Don’t tell anyone, but I have a favorite.” She was laughing when he leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “Good night, Macy.”

“Night, Harry.”

It was an incredibly difficult thing to let her go, but he did. He turned around and headed up the stairs to the attic, forgetting the fact he’d gone down originally to take a shower and start the day. Instead he got back into the pull out sofa which had been his home the past few days and promptly fell asleep with the smell of spruce and cinnamon surrounding him.

  Macy was not going to obsess about Galvin’s new friend. Was it weird he’d been sucked into a – how did Victor put it? – Summer Sex Haze? Yes. But he was allowed to be dumb, even though at this point he was risking his job for it.

She thought about talking to him, but she wasn’t sure how that conversation would go.

‘Hey, remember how you wanted to go out with me, but I evaded you? Well, now I’m wondering if you’re being reckless and moronic by taking up with an objectively hot woman.’

As she moved to the break room pondering exactly how badly that conversation would go, her phone rang. “Hey, Mel.”

“Can you not be in the house tonight?”

Macy stopped by the fridge. “Um, I could probably find something else to do. For how long?”

“I don’t know,” Mel answered, sounding like she had the weight of the world on her shoulders. “Niko is having a really hard day so I was going to make dinner-“

“Oh, date night get out of the house.” it had been a long time since she’d had a roommate who dated, at least since college, but she remembered those night easily enough. At least back then she’d been able to go to the library and study in order to stay out of the way. “Got it.”

“You don’t mind?”

“No, I don’t mind. What is Maggie doing?”

“Something something Lucy, I wasn’t really paying attention to be honest. Once she said ‘sorority’ I sort of tuned her out.”

Macy pressed her fingernail into the napkin on the counter and tried her best to keep her voice casual. “And Harry?”

“Harry can orb in and out of the house, and he lives in the attic like a crazy relative so I’m not too worried about him. I just told him to stay out of the first floor.”

“Okay, let me know if you need anything. I know it’s not going to be easy.”

“Thanks, I appreciate it. I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye.” Macy hung up the call and didn’t give herself time to think before calling Harry on her cell. “Harry, hi.”

“You called.”

She smiled at his utter bafflement. “Yes, I did.”

“On a phone?”

“Well, I’m at work so a strange British man showing up out of thin air might seem strange.”

“I take offense to being called strange.”

“Duly noted. I just got off the phone with Mel.”

“Yes,” his voice was dryer than a cracker. “She warned me about making too much noise and staying in my attic.”

“Well, I don’t really have anywhere to hang out while Mel and Niko have dinner so I was wondering if you’d share your attic tonight.”

There was a pause on his end of the line. “Would you mind bringing food?”

“I don’t mind at all. Do you have a preference?”

“Surprise me.”

“Okay, I’ll pick something up after work and let you know when I get to the house.”

“I look forward to it.”

Macy ended the call and wondered why it felt as if she’d just set up a date with her whitelighter.

Four hours later Macy parked her car a little down the road from the house and pulled out the stuff she’d bought on the way home. Walking down the sidewalk she looked up at the small window which overlooked the street and the balcony they never used because it was too small to be of any use.

She watched the briefest shadow walk past the window and couldn’t help but smile. Macy could just imagine him pacing with a book in his hand, no doubt trying to solve all their problems before dinner.

Her eyes were on the window, at his silhouette, when she said his name.

“Harry,” it was a whisper on the wind and nothing else, but still he stopped and she could see his shadow move, looking down at her like some sort of mysterious wizard in his tower. “I’m here.”

She watched him disappear in a puff of magic and before she could blink he was standing in front of her on the sidewalk, half an inch away. “Impressive aim. Have you ever fallen on someone?”

“Not since I first started,” he admitted, his arm wrapping around her waist. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

The world blinked out for a moment, the entirety of her universe was Harry and the arm he kept tight around her, and then they were in attic.

“What did you get for dinner?”

“Tacos.”

“Lovely,” but he didn’t drop his arm. “I don’t suppose you have the fixings for-“

“Margaritas?” she asked, holding up a six pack of premixed margaritas. “I don’t know how Maggie handles having her name everywhere. Any time anyone ordered a margarita at a bar I’d look up thinking someone was asking for me.”

Harry finally released her, but she could have sworn she felt the trail of his fingers across her back as he let go. The bed Harry normally slept on was folded back into the couch so Macy moved to set the stuff down on the coffee table, but her eyes were caught by a brightly colored book on a table nearby.

“A new book?” she asked, excited as she reached for it, settling on the couch so she could read the summary on the back.

“Are you going to read this one too?” Harry asked as he unpacked the bag.

Macy smiled and kicked off her shoes, curling her legs beneath her. “I never got to finish the last one.”

“It’s at my apartment, I can get it for you if you want.”

“Do you miss your apartment?” she asked as he moved around the coffee table and settled on the couch next to her. His warmth was welcomed next to her, his arm casually draped behind her on the back of the couch. She didn’t lean into him, but she did shift on the cushion so she could face him.

“Sometimes,” he admitted. “It wasn’t as if I was very far from the Charmed Ones before.”

“Just a call away.”

She saw his hand move out of the corner of her eye, and felt the slight pressure of his fingers toying with a strand her of her. Macy wouldn’t normally let just anyone touch her hair, but Harry had already buried his fingers in her curls so it seemed a little silly to pull back now. Also, she liked the contact.

“But there are some benefits to living here.”

“The biscuits?” she asked, reaching out to grab one of the bottles of margaritas.

“You are a great baker, but mostly just being around people again. You and your sisters,” he clarified as if he might be spending time with someone else in the house. “I like hearing Maggie play her music in her room and Mel yell at the news. I like seeing you in the morning at the breakfast table.”

Macy pulled at the fabric of his shirt, pinching it between her thumb and forefinger before dragging her gaze back up to his face. “I keep thinking about the word ‘forbidden,’ there’s not any wiggle room in that word, is there?”

His eyes softened. “There isn’t.”

She took a drink, “You could try not making it so hard, you know.”

Harry laughed and took the bottle from her, maintaining eye contact as he took a drink. “What exactly am I doing?”

“That for starters,” she accused, because he’d been giving her a look. “Then there’s the suits, the ties, the breakfast. And of course the accent. You have to stop doing the accent.”

He pressed his lips together and when he spoke there was none of the proper Brit in his voice, but some kind of Colorado accent. “I’ll see what I can do, Macy.”

“You can do an American accent,” Macy was gleeful and Harry looked pretty proud of himself. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

“Hang around for a hundred years and you learn a trick or too,” he told her, his voice switching back. “I’ve got a list of things for you too, you know.”

“Do you now?”

It was flirting, this thing they were doing in the isolated attic with the moon rising outside the big circular window. They absolutely should not be doing this, but the world was falling apart so why not push the envelope just a little more?

“The hair,” he told her, tugging gently on the strand he’d been playing with. “The rambling.”

“The rambling?” she repeated, amused. “Why the rambling?”

“I always want to stop you.”

“You and Maggie and Mel,” Macy snorted.

His eyes narrowed. “Trust me, your sisters are not thinking about stopping you the same way I’m thinking about stopping you. Then there’s the way you’re always put together, the way you laugh.”

Her heart grew two sizes and the butterflies in her stomach went a little wild. “Do you think it would be like this if we hadn’t met before?”

“Yes.”

Macy laughed at how quickly he answered. “Please, take your time, tell me how you really feel.”

“I can’t imagine any universe in which you don’t matter a great deal to me, Macy. The fact I know how you kiss just makes it more complicated.”

“Dinner probably wasn’t a great idea.”

“Maggie kissed her friend’s boyfriend to keep him from seeing us trying to save a possessed co-ed, who knows what a good or bad idea is anymore. That being said, we should probably eat.”

Macy nodded and waited until he reached forward for the food because it was easier to say, “You matter to me too, Harry. To all of us.”

He looked over his shoulder, reached out to put his hand on her knee. “Thanks, Mace. Now, why don’t you grab that book and we’ll see if it’s any good.”

She reached over to grab the paperback. “Just a heads up, I’m going to stop and correct any and all scientific errors I find in here.”

“Bring it on.”

  “The only beings on Earth who will remember the way things were before are the four of us,” Harry explained to the Charmed ones. He moved to sit in the chair next to Macy, unable to believe things had truly come to this point.

He had always admired the sisters for their strength, their wit, but he could never truly imagine the depth of their selflessness. Mel was willing to give up the person she loved to make sure she stayed safe, to give up everything but the memories was a high price to pay.

“You all need to be absolutely sure before you do this. I know first hand this kind of spell comes at a huge cost. I remember nothing of my human life, not who I was, who I loved, or what I did to become a whitelighter.”

“Harry,” Maggie murmured quietly, and he appreciated the young woman for the amount she cared.

He didn’t look at Macy, but he thought of her as he assured Maggie. “I made my choice long ago, now you must make yours. You’ll lose any pictures, texts, keepsakes. Every trace of your relationship will disappear. The only thing the spell won’t touch is our memories.”

“Mel,” Macy began, her voice careful and quite as if any louder would cause pain. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“Either I give her up, or I lose her. I have to.”

Maggie shifted closer to her sister, giving what comfort she could. Harry glanced at Macy and after picking up the book they stood up and stepped out of the room. She put her hand on his arm to stop him before they went up the stairs. “You don’t remember anything from before?”

Harry briefly thought back to the moment he’d realized he knew how to speak, how to drive, how to write, but didn’t know when or how he’d learned any of those things. “No, I woke up and I was a blank slate.”

Her brows lowered, “How does that not drive you crazy?”

Harry gave her the honest answer. “It did for the first ten years or so.”

“Could it happen again? Could you wake up tomorrow and just be a blank slate again?”

He heard the question behind the question, the worry between the lines. “I wouldn’t forget you, Macy, or your sisters.”

Her face was instantly sad. “I wonder how many people you’ve said that to in the past.”

Harry watched her walk up the steps and took a deep breath before following her up.

It was a question he had thought in some form or another over the course of the past century. Who had he left in his history? What names had he forgotten, what loves had been lost to the mist of time and magic? His heart broke at the thought of all those emotions gone, never to get them back.

And then he thought of his singular night with Macy, of kissing her in the woods with the taste of life on her lips. What would he do without those small moments when they stood just a little too close? The intimate moments between the danger, when he sat by her for no other reason than it would allow him to be close?

Would he feel the echo of the loss somewhere in his ribs, or would he get up the next day and just move on as if nothing happened? Everything would certainly be easier – cleaner – without their night together simmering between them, but he wouldn’t give those memories away for the world.

But to protect her? He might give them away for that.

“I texted Maggie to get the sand,” Macy said as she stood in her pretty party dress. “I have no idea why any spell would-“

Harry stopped her words by grabbing her arm and pulling her towards him. Before she could say more than first letter of his name he was kissing her.

In his lifetime men had gone off to war, kissed their wives and lovers before boarding trains and boats to far off battlefields where many of them never came home. They kissed just like this, as if it would carry them across oceans and years.

Her fingers dug into his hair as he pulled her closer to hold her tight against him. Desperation and want a fist squeezing his heart tight.

“Harry?” she whispered when he finally let her go, her eyes opening slowly to meet his.

“I just wanted something to remember.”

She nodded and reached up to touch a finger to his jaw, drew it down to his chin and then kissed him softly. “If you want to step back from this-“

“No,” he rested his forehead on hers. “I’m good. And if I’m not part of the spell I won’t remember.”

“And you want to remember.”

“Yeah,” he nodded and heard the steps of either Maggie or Mel on the stairs leading up to the attic. “Sorry, I should have asked before – I promise, I don’t plan on making it a habit of grabbing you and kissing you.”

Macy smiled that soft, lovely smile he so rarely saw from her. “Extenuating circumstances. You’re forgiven.”

Harry gently pushed her back a step as the door was kicked open. “This is sand is fucking heavy.”

“You should have called me,” he scolded and stepped forward to take one of the bags. “I would have brought it up here.”

“I thought you might be busy,” Maggie explained, a glint in her eyes as she deadpanned, “With the spell.”

He nearly dropped the bag of sand and glanced at Mel who was, quite naturally, completely unaware of what was going on around her. “The pattern for the sand is in the book if you’d like to get started.”

“Sure.”

Harry turned his attention to Mel who was valiantly trying to hold back tears. “Are you alright?”

“I will be, once this is over. The in-between is killing me.”

Going with instinct, Harry pulled her in for a hug and held on for a few seconds before they started with the rest of the spell. It was a complicated thing, and he had Mel do the first handful of incantations so that when it was time for the big start, for the piece which would undo so much love, Mel could be with Niko.

When the sand had disappeared Maggie headed down the stairs, Macy a half step behind her. She stopped at the door and turned to look at him. “I’ll find you later.”

“Don’t worry about me, Macy. I’ll be fine. Take of Mel. She’s going to need her sisters tonight.”

Harry spent a restless night trying to sleep, but Macy was only part of the reason. He imagined what his life was like in 1930 when he was ten, in 1950 when he was thirty. Had he settled down by that point? Were his parents still alive?

How had he died?

When he finally fell asleep he was plagued by bizarre dreams of the Vera-Vaughn sisters in 1940s with victory curls, using cell phones and magic. The next morning he woke up and made breakfast, watched as the women came down one by one and talked about Niko – safe, happy, but no idea someone loved her.

“I get it now,” Mel said as she put down her phone. “Why Charity told us we couldn’t have relationships with people who weren’t magical. I tried to break up with Niko, tried to keep my space, and she still found herself in the sights of some psychotic shapeshifter.”

“Love shouldn’t be something we have to sacrifice,” Macy said as if it was a kind of proclamation and it caught Harry’s attention.

“You’re right,” Mel nodded. “And I don’t regret what I had with Niko. Even though I don’t know how I’m going to get through this, at least I have all these great memories.”

Harry looked to Macy to see she was already looking at him.

“You’re absolutely right, Mel." He touched a note he'd written for himself last night after the women had left the attic, one he intended on keeping with him at all times. "The memories are worth the rest.”

[schrijverr]

Behind the Scenes

This is a story that developed from a small peek into my brain whenever I write the stories you read into a thinkpiece about writing and posting fanfiction. 

On AO3.

Ships: none (unless you wanna ship me with my keyboard lol)

Warnings: none, I suppose, but it does get a little down in the end, I was having a rough day when I wrote this, sorry.

~~~~~~~~~~

I sit on my chair before my laptop. I’m curled into myself as my fingers glide over the keyboard and my thoughts flow out of my fingertips onto the screen.

It isn’t all that late, just past midnight, but it’s already dark outside and in order to see the keys properly I have to turn on the lamp I have on my desk. With the light it’s kind of cozy here in my little nook of the world.

I look to the screen and try to make sense of my own words. I don’t have a fully fledged idea yet, but a vague idea that floated through my brain at some point during the day has inspired me enough to open a new document and start typing.

I now know how this story begins and I see where I am going and how it will end, but the question of how I get there sits heavily on my mind.

I stop typing for a moment and think. If I introduce this character now, it might set some other things in motion and that’ll be good for the plot, but I don’t know how to write that character at all and I’m afraid that if I do it wrong, people won’t like me or my story.

I sigh and realize I’ve started almost every new paragraph with the same word. I hate it when I do that. The story starts to feel repetitive and as a non native English speaker I want to prove that I have a bigger vocabulary than that.

How to proceed?

A synonym, maybe? But I’ll have to look that up and I don’t think there is a good synonym for I. Sighing again I scan the page and think. Maybe I could start with a verb to shake things up a bit or a question. No, not a question that would feel out of place here.

Now I’ve written a few paragraphs again, so I could use the word I used before, but since I used it so many times already I want a bit more space between now and the next time I use it. So a synonym it is, I guess, I think as I open my browser to look one up.

…

There is no synonym for I.

Goddammit, I think. Well, it’s no use now anyway. I’ve decided to write this story in the first person, despite knowing I’m horrible at it, and now I have to deal with the fact that I don’t have another word for I.

I start my next paragr- no that’s not right. Backspace, backspace. Moving on to the next- No, not that either. Backspace, backspace. I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t, hmm, what’s a good word there?

I know I have a good word in Dutch ‘voortborduren’, but when I translate it, it gives me elaborate, which doesn’t fit in the sentence at all. Mentally groaning I recline in my chair as I try to think.

Maybe it’s the sentence itself? Lets see what did I write again? Oh yeah: I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t- and then I need to find a word. Hm, funny, I don’t know how to go on by the sentence about not knowing how to go on.

‘I look at what I’ve written last and wonder why I’ve written something upon which I can’t’, I whisper it to myself in the hope the right word comes to mind.

First there is nothing, but then! Expand! Not perfect, but it fits, which is good enough for now, maybe when I proof read it a better word will come to me and I can use that.

So, expand. I wonder why I wrote something I can’t expand upon.

Fuck, I’ve spend so much time finding the right word that I have forgotten what I was talking, well writing, about in the first place. Softly swearing under my breath I scroll up and read what came before the sentence with the stupidly hard word to think off.

Ah yeah, it was about the other stupid thing, namely that I am writing this in the first person, which I still cannot do, no that skill has not come to me in the time it took to look up a word. What a pity.

But I have started the last few paragraphs with something other than I from time to time. That at least is something. Wait, should I add punctuation there? That, at least, is something. Looks better, but maybe that is just my love for commas talking. I mean, why write a boring sentence with a dot in the middle, which makes it short and doesn’t give you enough space to play with it, when you can also add unnecessary punctuation, so that you can play with the cadence of how something is read out loud or in someones mind?

Whoops, now that whole paragraph is long, if I want to make this story easy to read I’ll have to make this one shorter. Hmm, is this good? Yeah, probably. Enter.

Now, I’m suddenly wondering, if paragraph is even the right word. In Dutch the word is ‘alinea’ and the word ‘paragraaf’ also means chapter, but not really, only in a school book. It doesn’t really make sense, because you also have a chapter in a schoolbook and that’s divided in paragraphs and each paragraph has ‘alinea’s’

Aaand I’ve distracted myself by thinking about the differences between each language instead of looking up if paragraph is actually the right word and it means what I think it means.

I look it up on Google translate, not the most trustworthy source for sentences, but for lone words it’s alright.

It is the right word, along with indention, but I’m not really familiar with that word, although I can see where it comes from with the paragraphs creating indentions in the text. Still, I decide to stick with paragraphs, cause “if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it” and I live by that.

Looking back to the clock in the corner of my screen I realize that I’ve now been writing this for 40 minutes. It isn’t all that long, but I don’t know where I’m going with this anymore. I had a point when I began and now I’ve forgotten it.

I stretch my arms, by pushing away my chair, leaning forward until my shoulders are at the same height of my desk is. My right shoulder cracks, it has always done that, but the sound snaps me out of my musings and makes me pay more attention to my surroundings.

It is raining outside and I hear people screaming. They sound happy, probably celebrating something and drinking, but I still wondered what they’re doing up so late (ignoring the fact that I am still awake too.)

Right, my word document. I was trying to remember what my point was. No wait, not remember, recall sounds better. I double click remember and replace it with recall: I was trying to recall what my point was.

Although I have found a nice sentences with the best word to describe the action, I still don’t know what comes next. I suddenly begin to doubt myself. Maybe this was a dumb idea. Maybe I’ve read this somewhere before and I am unconsciously copying someone. Maybe I should just delete this and move on to something else.

I mean, come on, who wants to read this? No one. I’m just going to post it, knowing that no one cares and no one will read it. People don’t go to AO3 for original works, you don’t, so why would anyone care about it? It’s going to get five hits tops, with maybe two kudos, three if you’re lucky.

And now I have accidentally switched to a second person perspective, can’t even stay consistent. Maybe if I play it off as an introspection or and internal dialogue no one will notice or think it’s an artistic choice.

Pff, artistic choice. You can hardly call what I’m doing artistic. It’s just fanfiction, a hobby. Yeah, I know that is still good and can be great, even amazing and artfully written, but this isn’t. I have a too direct writing style for that. I’ve only been getting English education for six years and it’ll take so much more practice until I ever reach that level.

I’ve gotten off track completely now. I faintly remember that this started out as a mock internal dialogue of what happens when I write a fanfic, but now it turned into a self deprecating shit parade.

I blink long and hard, trying to get my head back on track and write something better, or at least more consistent.

Realizing that in order to do that I should probably scroll up and read (lets be honest scan) how I started. I don’t have the energy for it, but I force myself to do it with a sigh.

Scroll, scroll, scroll.

Ah, yeah, I began with where I was and then that discussion about language and looking things up. Oh, but I’ve also reflected on what I’ve written before, well, before. Then it was about re-finding what I was doing after I had to look up a word and now it is desperately trying to remember what the actual fuck I was doing in an attempt to make something cohesive, but still. I decide to not do that again.

I still don’t know what my point was when I started this, but I’m making a new one up right now. I think I’m going to call the work ‘behind the scenes’ or ‘the thoughts of a writer’, since I have now decided that this is a way to get readers a peek behind the curtains.

As a reader, I can respect people so much for all the work they put into a story. And of course I’m not saying you can’t do that if you don’t write, no, that would be pretentious, but I do have more respect for them than before I started writing all those years ago.

It is really easy to forget that something you read in a few minutes has taken hours to write. This is not even 2k words long right now. I know I can read that in a few minutes, not even blinking and mostly forgetting, before moving on to the next story, but I have been writing almost nonstop for over an hour now.

I am lucky that I can usually keep the words flowing long enough to make some bullshit up that I can reason into a coherent story in the end, but that has taken practice. A lot of practice.

In order to become a good in writing a story you have to do it so many times and you won’t even notice you’ve gotten better until much later. I know this, because I recently went through all my works and made them better. Got all the typos out there, I fixed vague sentences and I made the lay out better. I also cringed a lot.

Well, I think I have to go with a ‘behind the scenes’ now, because I don’t think I can claim this is my internal monologue when I’m writing. Instead this has turned into a think piece about writing and appreciating it or something.

I don’t even know anymore.

I recall I had a point when I started this, probably thought it out and then my brain decided to throw it away and throw up this garbage instead. It is interesting, I suppose, but not at all what I was going for in the beginning.

Oh well, maybe I can fix it when I proof read it, because I am tired and I think I’m going to bed. I have half the mind to just fuck it and throw it on AO3 without glancing over my own words even once. It’s very tempting to leave others to deal with these honest words and pretend they aren’t mine, but I don’t.

However, I don’t think I will edit this that much, because it was nice to get some frustrations on, well not paper, but on screen. Just order my thoughts, you know?

It is hard to stay motivated when it seems that everyone around you is doing so much better than you. It is disheartening and it makes you want to stop.

I don’t.

I can’t.

Writing is what I do, it helps, it’s nice. I love writing and I don’t think I will stop loving it. But one of the reasons I love writing is because it can get the constant thoughts and ideas to stop swirling around in my head.

Today I needed it to stop, so that I could just go to sleep properly and I feel like this helped. It was honest and I feel better now. Tomorrow can come at me and I will face it like I did today. Maybe my last few fics weren’t to everyones taste and that’s okay, they were my taste and I love them and I am proud of them. For me that’s enough.

I would apologize for ranting, I usually do, but since you could stop at any time and leave, I don’t think I’m going to do that, what I am going to do, is thank you.

Thank you for reading this, despite the fact that it is not a fanfic. Thank you for allowing me to just dump all these thoughts on you. And thank you for being here and clicking it, your support, even if it is only an extra number by “hits”, means so incredibly much to me and I cannot put in to words how grateful I am that you are here.

Since it is now 01:18 and if I recall correctly it was 00:02 when I started, I think I am really going to stop now. Goodnight, or good-whatever time a day you’re reading this!

Goodbye :)

[littleferal]

WIP tag game

rules: post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. send me an ask with the title that most intrigues you and interests you and i’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

tagged by @fleetwoodmactshirts​​ and @qveenbvtch​​, two of my favourite writers 🥺💛

the short answer is way too goddamn many and my brain is not doing the thing ;A; but anyho, let’s jump on into the dumpster fire

Requests A woman is slow but I love you very much for sending something in. Honestly half my problem is everyone has me like imma do a series and i should just calm down instead of thinking imma crack out like 10k?

Finish off defensive series (someone help me wrangle a cowboy)

A bad date series (hearts nonnie this is yours, i’ve done 3/5)

h/cs on helping with anxieties (woops nonnie that hit so close to home my brain just switched off :’)

h/cs on having a high sex drive (oddly enough it’s javier who isn’t talking to me and i normally finish his first?)

awkward first time with marcus pike, oneshot (bish i know u said or frankie but a woman is stubborn)

reader getting dom with the boys (i desperately wanna play with a series but i should probably do a h/cs first so you have something :’)

pt II to Javier’s defensive (nonnie if you wanna expand on this? did you have a certain direction you wanted it to go in?)

h/cs on seducing you away from a shitty shitty boyfriend (a bad date may also be to your liking nonnie)

Din

basorexia from a prompt list, oneshot

the accidental stowaway, the first chapter from my wine fic

weightless, the feral version, oneshot

nsfw alphabet

Ezra

desperate, the cursed oneshot

morning glories, oneshot

unnamed filth, oneshot

the weight is love, multichaptered fic

nsfw alphabet

Frankie

dutch courage, two part fic

hat-trick, oneshot

rule of 3, oneshot

high hope, oneshot

nsfw alphabet

Javier

release, oneshot

nsfw alphabet

Whiskey

slow dancing (in a burning room), oneshot

unnamed multichaptered fic

nsfw alphabet

also i guess i technically have a santi oneshot wip? who knows where that came from?

no pressure tags: @f0rever15elf​ @scribbledghost​

[tj-is-tired-blog]

"Dammit" (RDR2 X Reader Fluff Headcanon/Blurb/Thing?)

Hey there um I accidentally posted an unfinished ask instead of saving it as a draft because I'm a fool and I can't find it anymore but I remember almost exactly what it was so yeehaw

@crimsonredemption asked: "Hey hey hey hey can you do 'fell asleep on my shoulder' and 'carrying you to bed' with arthur or javier from rdr2 with a gender neutral reader?" (Or something along those lines)

Answer: Hell yeah bröther let's do both

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

Arthur:

What started off as a simple fishing trip turned into so much more. You started at around three in the afternoon. About one or two hours after you set up a fishing spot, you found what seemed to be a stray dog. The dog looked malnourished and weak, but he still had a light in his eyes looking like he was filled with hope. He kind of reminded you of Arthur.

"Hey Arthur I found a dog!" You shouted with glee. You were petting the dog with your eyes lit up with joy. Arthur chuckled at how child-like you can be.

"We have a dog at camp (Y/N). We don't need anymore smelly animals than we already have." Arthur put his pole down and walked over to you. You were treating the dog like he was your son. The cowboy, now sitting next to you, was having fun watching you try to care for the dog.

"C'mon look at him! He looks like you but as a dog! Dog Arthur... Darthur!" The dog barked at you when you said the dumb name.

"Awe is that your name? Darthur, you're such a good bo a h." You said trying to imitate Arthur's soft spot for dogs. He was just laughing at how stupid the whole situation is.

"(Y/N) let's getchu' home." You looked at him with a pouty face and tried to fake cry.

"But the d o g." He shook his head and smiled.

"You're tired, c'mon. Get yer stuff." You frowned complied, stomping over to where you left your pole and bag o' fish. The dog followed you and you smiled widely

"I've been chosen!" You shrieked to the world. You looked over at Arthur only to see him loading his stuff on his horse, trying to hold in a laugh. He shook his head and broke. The cowboy, who rarely shows emotion of joy, was laughing a hard laugh. You smiled at this. Someone made tough man Arthur™ laugh and it was because of a dumb lil' doggy.

"Lessgo'." He said between laughs. You picked up the dog, disregarding Arthur saying they don't need anymore pets, and mounted your horse.

"Put the dog back-"

"But Arthurrrrrrrrrrrrrrr..." Arthur just smiled and rolled his eyes. The whole trip back you two were just cracking jokes and making sarcastic remarks. You checked on the dog every now and then, as it was slightly uncomfortable to ride on a small saddle with a larte-ish dog. When you did get to the camp it was about six o'clock at night and everyone was eating their dinner. You hitched your horses and you went to get a bowl of stew for the dog, and for your dinner.

"Now what in the hell is that." Micah, not really asking but demanding™, said, pointing to the dog.

"That is my new dog, and if you get anywhere near him I'll cut your eye out." You smiled sweetly, and continued to try and cool down the stew on the way to Arthur's tent. While waiting at his tent you were 'reading' a book you stole from Dutch. You were really doodling on all of the pages until it was unreadable. Then a certain yeehaw-man that you've spent your whole day with walked over.

"Why are you in my tent?" He looked genuinely confused.

"I can't leave evidence." You simply stated. Arthur huffed and looked at the page you were doodling on.

"Wait... Isn't that Dutch's favorite book?"

"Who knows at this point, you can't read it. Even the title isn't visible." You said snickering. Not once did you look up through the whole conversation. You just continued 'reading'. Big baby boy Arthur sat on the cot and you just kind of cuddled next to him. It felt natural.

"Where's your dog, (Y/N)?" You shot up and looked to where Micah was. Your sweet doggo wasn't there, so that's good. After a fierce whistle there was a bark, and both Cain and the stray walked over. You started making baby noises and pet the dogs. After your cute little dog fit, you closed the book with the pencil in it, and hid them in the wagon next to Arthur's tent.

"Why do you put it by me?" He whisper yelled.

"I can't be the one who gets caught. I'm the favorite." You added sarcasm to the last bit and flopped next to Arthur.

"You might be the strangest person I've ever met." He mumbled.

"Yeah, I know." You yawned out.

The next hour was just you two telling stories about your childhood. It was mildly emotional because you two just wished you could go back. Everything was less chaotic back then. You laid your head on Arthur's shoulder while telling about the past and slowly dozed off. Arthur was rambling and venting so he didn't notice you were asleep for a good while. When he eventually did figure it out, he just kind of stared in awe. He's never seen you so peaceful. You only had three emotions. Angry, sarcastic, and dog. Nothing more, nothing less.

He sighed and tried to pick you up. He struggled a little because not only was he tired and sore, he was trying to be gentle. It doesn't happen often because Arthur, being the big beautiful idiotic brute he is, thinks he's only good for destruction. But as we all know, that's a fat lie. Arthur carefully carried you back to your tent and got a few smart remarks from some of the gang members that were still up. He shot them glares and they shut up quickly.

When Arthur got to your tent he was trying to figure up how to set you down. He eventually figured it out after like six minutes. Arthur looked at you and you shivered a little bit. He looked around for extra blankets.

"Dammit..." Arthur laid down and cuddled you. You smiled in your sleep. He was like a big teddy bear.

You woke up with a start in the morning and you had no idea where you were.

"What the..." You looked around mildly panicking and found a note. You recognized the neat handwriting.

"I brought you here don't worry. You didn't get... Y'know." You looked over at Arthur chopping logs. He grinned quickly before getting back to his work.

--

Javier:

"Hey, Earth to (Y/N)!" You jumped and looked to your left. It was none other than Javier Escuella. He stifled a laugh due to your sudden reaction. You have a tendancy to daydream on guard duty, and now that it was getting later in the evening, you were dozing off every now and then.

"Huh? What? Who?" You yelled out aiming your rifle wherever you could. Javier sure did get a kick out of that. You just grumbled and sat down near a tree.

"Come on amigo, switch off with someone and get dinner. You haven't eaten all day." Javier stated, carving a piece of wood.

"Go trade with uh... Bill or Sean! Those two don't need sleep." You chuckled.

"Nah, I'm okay. Thanks for being concerned, I guess." You looked up at Javier, who yawned and slightly cut his finger with the knife.

"Gah! Mierda!" You shot up from whatever daze you were in, and immediately rushed over to Javier. He was probably being over-dramatic, as it was only a papercut, but you were still concerned.

"Hey wow, are you okay?" You gently held his hand and poured some water from your flask onto it.

"No, it really hurts..." He wasn't lying, but he wasn't telling the truth. It stung a little, but that was the only pain he felt from the small cut.

"Do you need a bandage I-" Javier cut you off.

"You can make it feel better with a kiss~" Javier purred out. You just groaned and threw his hand to the side. Always with the flirting. To be fair you should've expected it. He's almost never irresponsible when carving, or just handling a knife in general. Keyword: Almost.

"You're so stupid." You rolled your eyes jokingly and grabbed your stuff, walking back to your tent.

"Ah mi amor! Come back I miss you!" He laughed. You just scoffed and set your stuff back in your tent. Then you walked over to the campfire. Sitting at the campfire made you doze off again. However, you jolted awake at any sudden noise, trying to make it look like you weren't sleeping. Everyone noticed.

"How come you never go to bed (Y/N)? You always end up sleeping somewhere else." Charles asked carefully.

"Uh... I dunno. Paranoia maybe?" You shrugged and looked toward Charles' direction.

"It's because they always want to cuddle with the Mexican!" Bill mocked. You stood up and stomped over to him. He shrunk back in his seat and you grabbed his collar.

"Say something like that again, and I'll shoot you." You let go and walked to your horse. Little did you know, Javier was watching in the distance. He grimaced at Bill and went to go tell him off. You, however, went to go by the river and camp out for the night. Javier know this, as it was the spot you go to when you get mad.

"Stupid Bill, dumb camp, idiot people..." you mumbled on and on, leading your horse around the river. You grumbled and sat down on a rock.

"(Y/N)..." You whipped your head around and saw Javier. He had a soft, concerned smile on his face.

"Hey." You grumbled, hugging your knees. Javier dismounted his horse and walked over.

"I know you don't want to talk about it..." Javier said softly.

"It's fine. What's up with your eye." Javier beamed and put an arm around your shoulder.

"I knocked out the fucker." You just giggled and laid your head on his shoulder.

"Of course you did." You trailed off, cuddling into Javier's arm. You two sat in a peaceful silence until there was soft snoring from you. Javier looked down and smiled, admiring your features.

"Mi amor..." he mumbled. Javier cuddled you and eventually dozed off himself. You both had a rough night.

In the morning you woke up next to Javier in his tent. He was passed out cold, and snored loudly. You smiled and gave him a kiss on his forehead. Ever so slightly, you could see a grin on his face.

"Damn he's cute..."

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

UghHHHHH THIS TOOK FOREVER I'M SO SORRY! It's also a little longer and repetitive than I wanted it to be, but it was kinda fun writing it

[five-wow]

Author Asks

Rules: answer these questions and tag five other fic writers to do the same.

I was tagged by the wonderful @novemberhush. Thank you, omg, because I love rambling about writing and this is the best kind of opportunity to do so, handed on a silver platter, ahh. 😊

-

Author Name: Square / Squares / SquaresAreNotCircles

Fandoms You Write For: I’m a fandom hopper! In the past year or so it’s been Hawaii Five-0 (a truly ridiculous amount), Shadowhunters, Venom, Harry Potter, due South and Stargate Atlantis. Other fandoms I’ve written at least one fic for are Twilight, Doctor Who, Torchwood, Glee, BBC Merlin, BBC Atlantis, Teen Wolf, In The Flesh, Star Wars, Supernatural, the MCU and High School Musical. And uh, Alexander the Great/Voltaire fic (which would be... history fandom? RPF?) and one (1) Judas/Jesus Biblefic. If we’re getting really technical, also a tiny little bit of One Direction fic.

It should be noted that all of this is about fic that ended up getting posted somewhere on the interwebs - there are multiple Star Trek (TOS/AOS and DS9) fics lingering in my drafts (!! one day I will finish one of them), as well as some How To Train Your Dragon, The Good Place and Deadpool stuff, and definitely more I’ve forgotten.

Where You Post: Since I made the switch to writing in English everything has landed on ao3, but I used to write mostly in Dutch, so there’s still close to a million words, I think, under my name on quizlet.nl (not to be confused with quizlet.com, which is a very different website).

Most Popular One-Shot: That depends on how you’re measuring popularity! Going by kudos, it’s Tell me I’m perfect (but tell me the truth), a Magnus/Alec Shadowhunters fic. It’s the truth is a really old fic about Percy Weasley/Oliver Wood from Harry Potter that has the most hits out of all my works, and That time Steve kissed every single Avenger (and also Bucky), an MCU Steve/Bucky fic, has the greatest number of comment threads.

Also, since this is an h50 blog: for my fic in this fandom Wanted: partner (in crime) has the most kudos and hits; You had me at meow has the most comments.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story: I’m working on one for h50 (going slowly, so slowly), but I don’t have any posted to ao3. I used to write a lot of multi-chaptered work in my quizlet.nl days, and I think my most popular fic there was probably the second fic I ever wrote, when I was fourteen or fifteen, which was a next-gen Harry Potter fic with shifting and overlapping POVs from the three Potter kids. It was kind of, well, not great, but it’s probably what really cemented my writing habit, it’s still my longest fic ever (over a 100k!) and I got my first fandom friends out of it, including one I’m still in contact with to this day, even though neither of us writes much if anything for Harry Potter anymore.

Favourite Story You Wrote: Ohhh, that’s such an impossible question, especially because I’ve been churning out one-shots like I might actually be getting paid for it, so there’s so much to choose from, which is a thing I have difficulty doing at the best of times, holy shit. Uh, I once wrote a 70k Remus/Sirius (Harry Potter) modern college-ish AU in Dutch that I still like; weirdly, I think that Biblefic holds up (also Dutch), and the HSM fic is fun to reread once in a while because of the fourth wall break, as is That escalated quickly, a Percy/Oliver fic. Ooh, and the fic about Shuri and Stucky and a goat!

For h50, it’s even harder to choose, because my preferences change pretty much weekly (a combination of newer fic being shinier, looking back at fic from even just a few months ago and finding things I would have done differently now, and comments influencing the way I personally look at my own fic), but right now, I’d say I still really like the fic where Steve adopts some guinea pigs, the one with the slightly tipsy team bonding by talking about mutual crushes and this 9.11 coda fix fluff getting together thing.

Story You Were Nervous to Post: That Biblefic, haha, because it’s a very complicated topic and my aim was definitely not to offend. People were really sweet about it, though! Mostly, they were kind of shocked it wasn’t crack, but that’s fair, because so was I.

Also pretty much anything I post in a new fandom, really, and low key just... anything at all. I’m always a little scared I tagged something super badly or accidentally copy-pasted the wrong text or unknowingly wrote something super offensive or whatever, despite my double- and triplechecking of the posting form. (I’m also still kind of scared people on ao3 will randomly decide they hate my fic and my writing and me personally (ao3 is really big and very anonymous and coming from the small town that was quizlet.nl even in its heyday, that’s scary), but that fear has abated as I’ve posted more, just because the data is showing pretty conclusively that thought is as irrational as it sounds. Everyone is always so nice, gosh.)

How Do You Pick Your Titles: Mostly, I steal lines from random songs. I have a small pile of song lyrics to use as potential titles, because going on a seperate hunt for every new fic would take most of my waking hours. Sometimes, I’ll use a pun (like You had me at meow or Retail Therapy) or something else that I think sounds good, especially if the fic is mostly comedy and/or has a specific premise that would do well in a title (like Five times the Governor of Hawaii suspects his taskforce leaders are violating fraternization policies (and one time they tell him they are)).

Do You Outline: I’m mostly writing fic of (sometimes much) less than 5k at the moment, so not really. I do sometimes write tiny bits of a bunch of scenes and then fill in the rest around that, which is a kind of outline, in a way. For longer works, I usually make a one page bullet point list of things that need to happen and work from there, because I can’t do really extensive outlining or I’ll just get caught up in the details and lose all of the oversight a tool like that is supposed to give you, as well as most of my enthusiasm for the project.

How Many Of Your Stories Are Complete: Of the ones posted? On ao3, all of them, because unfinished posted one-shot works would require some strange bending of those concepts. On quizlet.nl, I do have some abandoned works, but I think 80% is finished.

In-Progress: SO MUCH. Seriously, just, so much, oh god. I’d really like to write another Stargate Atlantis fic (and I have 30% of one done), and something more for due South, too, and maybe a small Percy/Oliver thing again some time because they were my very first OTP and I kind of miss them, but mostly I have, like, 100+ half written things for h50. I really wish that number was an exaggeration. There’s no way they’ll all get finished, but maybe... a third? Mayhaps?

That One Truly Long H50 Fic that I was already talking about way back in October last year is also eternally “in progress”. The thing is that it has about 25k now, after a year, and I think it needs... at least four times that. Probably. So either I’ll have to stick with this fandom and my slow progress for another three years to have a shot at getting it finished, or I’ll need to find a way to up the speed a little. Maybe I could try working on it for NaNo this November? That would be pretty awesome, but honestly, part of why it’s moving this slowly is because NaNo-style fast and messy writing for this scares me a little, because I might end up writing a lot, decide it’s not what I wanted for it, and become too intimidated to ever edit and/or rewrite the entire thing. But idk, I probably just need to get over my own fears, because I really do want to write Longer Fic again. Short stuff is fun and feels really productive and that’s great, but I miss the actual slow burn and build-up that only 50k+ words can give you.

Coming Soon: Hopefully a lot? For h50, that is. I have no idea what’s getting posted next, because I’m never entirely sure what’s going to be finished next and something really random might come jumping in, but at the moment I’m trying to direct most of my energies at a slightly longer fic I’ve been working on for months (not The Long Fic, a different one), a fic labeled “9.01 memory loss fic”, another one temporarly entitled “Perfect Kauai beach house vacation”, and maybe an ace!Steve fic I’ve been working on, if I ever manage to uh, actually finish that, instead of rewriting three sentences during every round of editing and never actually adding anything to fill in the gaps it still has. There will also be more season 10 codas, in all likelihood.

Do You Accept Prompts: I’ve never done that before in the traditional way, but I’m thinking about it! I’d love to try (and it would be a breath of fresh air, in some ways!), but the main thing holding me back is that I have way too much on my plate with just my own ideas to work off of, and I don’t want to disappoint people. Maybe if I do drabble-ish prompt fills? It’s definitely been on my mind.

Upcoming Story You’re the Most Excited For: I’m excited for a lot of stuff, but honestly, the top spot right now probably goes to the ace!Steve fic. I’m not even sure it’s that good, necessarily, but it’s, idk, really cathartic, I suppose. Seriously self-indulgent in strange but very good ways. I really like writing it. (Second spot goes to the beach vacation fic, because I haven’t actually written that much for it, but it’s been my go-to easy happy place for the last few weeks.)

-

I’m tagging @love2hulksmash @thekristen999 @stephmcx @girlonastring @flowerfan2 and @pterawaters, which is six people because I can’t count, but I’m about to make it seven because I’m also tagging you, the person reading this (hi there!). Say I tagged you and tag me so I can read it! I know that kind of thing can feel awkward, but it won’t be, because I’m cheering you on. Go for it, if you want to do it. :D

[hysterialevi]

When the Devil Cries pt. 34

Fanfic summary: (NO SPOILERS IN THIS STORY) After arriving in Saint Denis, Arthur ends up falling in love with a seemingly innocent pianist, only to find himself in a battle with one of the most notorious outlaws to ever emerge from America. Now, between working for Dutch and robbing money for the gang, Arthur has to also protect the man he loves as the two of them try to find their freedom.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan/Male OC

Previous chapter

This story is also on AO3

Author’s note: Real quick, I just wanna thank you guys for sticking with this story for so long. There aren’t that many chapters left (I’m estimating only about 1 or 2 after this one), and the fact that this fic is almost over has me feeling emotional lol. I hope you guys enjoy the last few parts of this story, and again, thanks for being there for all this time :)

From Arthur’s POV

O’CREAGH’S RUN

A COUPLE OF WEEKS LATER

“You got everything?” Hamish asked, eyeing my bag.

I shut the leather flap closed, placin’ my hands on my hips.

“Yeah. I think so. Eddie and I should be ready to go.”

The veteran limped over to me and patted me on the shoulder, displaying a warm smile.

“Well then, you boys stay safe out there, you hear? Things can get pretty wild on the roads nowadays, but you already know this. I just hope your plan to get out of America works for you.”

I nodded in agreement, gazing at Eddie through one of the windows as he readied the horses outside.

“Yeah, me too. Lemme tell you, it’s been one hell of a journey, runnin’ around with that boy, but...I know it’s gonna be worth it. I just have this...feelin’ in me, you know?”

Hamish followed my line of sight and peered at Eddie with an almost fatherly expression, reminiscing about the times when he was our age.

“I believe that feeling is called ‘hope,” he replied. “You become very familiar with it when you fight in a war. Sometimes, it’s all you have. Guns are fine and dandy, sure, but what happens when you don’t have one? That ‘feeling’ is the only thing you can hold onto, and if you’re lucky...it might just save your life.”

I took my attention away from the pianist for a moment and changed the subject, curious to know more about Hamish’s past.

“Sounds like those were bad times,” I remarked seriously. “How anyone survived that war is beyond me.”

Hamish raised a brow, appearing confused. “You wasn’t around back then?”

“I was,” I corrected, “but I was knee-high to a grasshopper. Just a lil’ boy. I hardly remember anything from back then.”

The veteran let out a sigh. “Consider yourself lucky. Ain’t nothin’ pleasant to remember about the Civil War. Colored folk were in chains, our people was beatin’ them, and of course...there was death. Everywhere you went. Sometimes, the bodies lay so thick, you coulda walked across the whole field without your boots touching mud.”

I shook my head in a sympathetic manner, lookin’ Hamish in the eye.

“It’s a good thing those times are behind us, then.”

He gave me a weary expression. “Behind the government, perhaps. But not us. There’s still conflict in this country every single day. A thousand little wars ragin’ on in the unseen corners of America. That’s why you absolutely cannot let anything happen to you, or Mister Ryan.”

Hamish paused at the mention of Eddie’s name and switched to a more inquiring tone, leaning casually on his crutch.

“Say, how did you meet that man in the first place? I’ve spoken with Eddie a bit, and he says y’all haven’t known each other for that long, but the two of you seem real close to me.”

A chuckle escaped me. “I ran into him in Saint Denis. Quite literally, actually. I had just come stumblin’ outta some pompous saloon and accidentally slammed right into him. It was...memorable, you could say.”

Hamish returned the laugh. “Tell me, what was Eddie like back then? How’d a simple pianist end up running around with America’s most wanted?”

I backtracked through all the months I’d spent with Eddie, the memories bombarding my head like the continuous flash of a camera.

“To be honest, I couldn’t quite tell you. He was a kind, law-abiding citizen who had never killed a man before, and then...there was me. A rotten, ol’ thief come looking to pick that city clean.”

The other man smirked at that, clearly not buying it. “And yet, Eddie insists you’re one of the noblest men he’s ever known.”

I grinned in response, carrying on with my story. “Well, I suppose Eddie just...brought somethin’ out in me. I saw the struggles he was dealin’ with, and I wanted to give him better. So, I helped him out with his troubles, taught him how to survive, and gave him shelter within the gang, but...now that’s fallen apart, too.”

I sighed in a despondent tone, glancing at the floor. “...Seems like that happens all too often, nowadays.”

An encouraging glint twinkled in Hamish’s eyes. “So it does. But you’ll make it through this, Arthur. You and Eddie. I know a survivor when I see one.”

I picked up the leather bag and slung it over my shoulder, preparin’ to head outside as I spoke with Hamish along the way.

“I just...I wanna give Eddie the life he deserves, y’know? But I dunno if I can do it.”

The veteran followed after me, still remaining optimistic.

“Why not? You’ve gotten this far, ain’t you?”

I stopped right in front of the door, turnin’ around to face the old man.

“Well, yeah, but how long will we be running? I’m a criminal, for god’s sake. An outlaw. I’m constantly on the lookout for Pinkertons, bounty hunters, rival gangs -- how in the hell am I supposed to help Eddie find a normal life when I can’t even find one?”

Hamish chuckled lightly, pointing out the obvious. “You rely on yourself too much, Arthur. Remember, you ain’t bearing all this weight by yourself. Eddie’s there to help you just as much as you’re there to help him.”

The veteran laid a hand on my shoulder, attempting to reassure me. “I know it’s comfortable believing that you’re capable of findin’ all your own solutions, but the reality is, sometimes you need other people to fill in the blanks. You haven’t been able to find a normal life, Arthur, because you ain’t meant to do it on your own. Don’t be afraid to lean on Eddie every once in a while. The boy’s strong. He can take it. You just gotta let him know what’s goin’ on.”

Falling silent for a minute, I took what Hamish said to heart and thought about it for a while, suddenly changin’ my whole perspective on my relationship with Eddie.

I...I supposed Hamish was right.

I had gotten so used to fixing my own problems and building up my own pride, that I forgot there weren’t no shame in askin’ for help when I needed it.

Things was just always so tense within the gang, and everyone was concerned with their own problems, that eventually, I learned to look out for myself. Didn’t even take a moment to step back and consider that perhaps, I wasn’t as alone as I thought.

I knew Eddie was capable of protecting himself, and of me, but I was just too afraid to let him do it.

I rested a hand on the doorknob and simply stayed still for a moment, listenin’ to Hamish as he continued to talk.

“Love goes both ways, Arthur. Whatever you’re willin’ to do in order to keep Eddie alive, I know that man feels the same way about you. It’s how love works.”

“Wait,” I said, pausing for a second. “...Love? How did you know that we were...” my voice trailed off awkwardly, causin’ me to clear my throat. “Did...did Eddie tell you?”

The veteran chortled. “Didn’t have to. The bond between you two is pretty obvious. In fact, I suspected it from the moment you set foot on my doorstep. I just never said anything ‘cause I didn’t wanna pry.”

My face started to feel hot with embarrassment, and I sheepishly rubbed the back of my neck. “Ah. I see.”

Hamish quickly offered some reassurance, noticing my mood.

“Hey, you’ll get no judgements here. I must admit I’m a tad surprised, but frankly...” he sighed, his eyes sinking with profound sorrow, “...I’ve seen the damage unfair judgement can do. My own partner -- a colored woman -- was killed years ago because of it. ...You just take care of Mister Ryan while you’re out there, alright? And yourself.”

I nodded firmly at that, somewhat more relaxed now that our secret was out in the open.

“Oh, believe me. I will.”

A paternal smile radiated on the old man’s face and he pulled me into a hug with one of his arms, happily pattin’ me on the back as he said goodbye.

“Then I wish you luck. I’ll miss your company, Arthur. Yours and Eddie’s. It was a pleasure havin’ you boys stay.”

I laughed warmly at that, opening the front door.

“Heh, well, thank you for everything you’ve done. Y’know...this might be the first time I’m leavin’ someone’s house without any of their belongings.”

Hamish shook his head in an amused manner, separating the hug. “Oh, I don’t doubt that. Let’s just see if you can keep it up.”

I stepped out the door and made my way into the crisp weather outside, throwin’ one last wave at Hamish as he stayed behind.

“I’ll do my best.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Strollin’ away from the quaint cabin as a light breeze whistled past me, I approached the horses while Eddie secured our stuff onto their backs and whistled to himself, his face shielded from the sun due to the Nevada hat sittin’ on his head.

His leg was looking much better now, thanks to all those weeks of recovery. He still weren’t able to walk or run as well as before, and it had been a while since he last left the house, but the man didn’t require a cane to get around no more. At least, not most of the time.

I was just happy to see Eddie on his feet again.

It scared the hell outta me, watchin’ him go through all that just ‘cause of one bullet. There was a lot of pain and frustration involved with his healing process, and part of me worried he’d never be able to walk again. As for the other part, well -- I was just grateful that he was still around in the first place.

After all, it didn’t look like many of our people survived Rodrick’s attack back at Beaver Hollow. And considering what happened to fellers like Kieran, or Lenny, or Strauss...I considered ourselves lucky for gettin’ away how we did.

I only hoped our luck would last long enough for us to get out of America.

Our plan at the moment was to get to Saint Denis and hop onto the next ship to England, but I had seen enough of my friends get killed to know that nothin’ was ever that easy. The road to freedom was rarely ever a straight path, and I doubted this one was going to be any different.

I supposed we would just have to wait and see what the future held.

“Morning, handsome,” I called out cheerfully, slingin’ my bag over my horse’s saddle. “You ready to go?”

The pianist fed his mount a quick snack, patting him on the neck.

“Ready as I’ll ever be. It feels like ages since I last stepped outside. What about you, Arthur? How are you feeling?”

I let out a hesitant sigh, admittedly nervous about going to England.

“...I’m ready,” I answered, not sounding as sincere as I hoped. “Just...not quite used to the idea of livin’ halfway across the world yet.”

Eddie picked up on my tone and gave me a concerned look. “If you’re uncomfortable with going to England, we can always go somewhere else. There’s still time to decide. Remember, this isn’t just about me. I wanna make sure you’re safe too.”

“Well...where else would we go?” I asked. “Ain’t like we got a lot of options.”

The other man offered some suggestions. “Canada, perhaps? Or even Mexico, if you prefer.”

I waved a dismissive hand, goin’ along with our original idea.

“Nah, both of those places are too close. I’d feel better knowin’ we had some ocean between us and them Pinkertons. If they’re gonna come after me, I wanna at least make ‘em work for it. Besides, accordin’ to Javier, Mexico ain’t the best place to lie low right now.”

The pianist shrugged uncertainly, takin’ my word for it. “Well, alright, I guess.”

I came to a halt, noticing that Eddie still had a worried expression on his face.

“...Look, I’ll be fine,” I reassured him. “I just need some time to wrap my head ‘round this whole thing. I’ve never left America before. You know this. England’s a whole new world to me.”

The other man clearly wasn’t convinced about my commitment to this just yet, but decided to trust me anyway.

“...If you say so. Just let me know if you change your mind, okay? I don’t wanna drag you into something you’re not willing to do. And besides, the more backup plans we have, the better. I hate to be the pessimist, but there really is no guarantee our trip to England will go smoothly. And that’s assuming we even reach Saint Denis.”

I chuckled sarcastically, unhitching my horse. “You certainly know how to comfort a man, don’t you?”

Eddie smirked in response. “I learned from the best. Anyways, now that we got that out of the way...” he mounted his horse, stickin’ his boots in the stirrups, “...shall we get going?”

I followed his actions and climbed on top of my own mount, makin’ myself comfortable in the saddle.

“Yes, let’s.”

Turning away from Hamish’s lone cabin, the two of us began trotting at a casual pace as we slowly made our way back to the road, finally resuming the seemingly eternal journey we started months ago.

I couldn’t lie -- I was gonna miss O’Creagh’s Run. There was just a certain air to the place that offered a sense of sanctuary, and I always felt like we was hidden from the rest of the world whenever I wandered near here.

I supposed I was just more a nature person. America had its flaws, sure, but part of me honestly wished we could stay. Ever since I was a little boy, the view of lively meadows, never-ending forests, and purple mountains crowning the horizon always made me feel at home.

Somethin’ about them just brought you closer to the sky, I guess. They seemed to compliment the stars like nothing mankind ever built, and no matter how large people made their cities or how brightly they lit them up...I knew the wild west was always gonna have my heart.

It just made me sad to know that those times were comin’ to an end.

All them years I spent runnin’ around with Dutch and Hosea -- creating our own society and riding across America -- they were nothing more than a handful of lost memories now.

Hosea was dead, Dutch had lost his mind, and I...well, I hated to admit it, but the era of outlaws and gunslingers was over.

Despite all our efforts to stay ahead of it, civilization was spreading rapidly across the whole world, and people like me had no place in its society.

If I was gonna keep Eddie alive and hope to have a future with him, my entire lifestyle was gonna have to change.

My criminal background, my time spent runnin’ from the law, my love for a freer life -- it would all have to go. I would have to become a...civilized man, and live in a civilized place.

I didn’t know if I was ready for that kind of a difference, but what I did know was that I loved Eddie. And regardless of how much I longed for another life, that man meant more to me than anything else right now.

Even if it meant giving up everything I had in America, I was gonna do whatever it took to help him...because I knew he’d do the same for me.

I just hoped we’d be able to reach Saint Denis first. We were finally nearing the end of this harsh journey, and Lord only knew what sort of obstacles we was gonna face along the way. I had a feeling neither Atticus nor the Pinkertons were going to let us go that easy, but if I had any say in it, they weren’t gonna stop us from reaching England.

Nothing was.

~~~~~~~~~~

A COUPLE HOURS LATER

EASTERN NEW HANOVER

Roaming through New Hanover’s wide, open fields, Eddie and I ventured down a path that would lead us alongside the Kamassa River and straight into Bluewater Marsh, hopefully taking us to the northern region of Bayou Nwa before the day ended.

So far, things had been peaceful enough except for a few random crazies on the road, but...we had yet to run into anything life-threatening.

The weather was only partly cloudy, the roads were empty, the birds were soarin’ in the sky, and our heads were still on our shoulders. S’far as I was concerned, that was a win in my book.

As for Eddie, the man seemed content with our plan and didn’t show as much hesitance as I did, but there was still a certain...melancholy surrounding him. Sorta like he was about to visit a cemetery or something.

Though, the more I thought about it...he kinda was. After all, the last time Eddie set foot in England was when his family had just been murdered, and his previous partner, Nathaniel, was killed.

Goin’ back to that place after all these years...I imagined it must’ve brought back some terrible memories for the man.

I knew from personal experience that there weren’t nothing pleasant about returning to an old graveyard, and the longer Eddie stayed silent, the more I worried about his well-being.

I leaned over in my saddle and brought my horse closer to the other man, wantin’ to check up on him.

“Hey, Eddie,” I said, peerin’ at him from under my hat. “You doin’ alright there? You seem kinda...preoccupied.”

The pianist took his eyes off the road for a moment and glanced at me, his brow furrowed with suspicion.

“...I won’t lie to you, Arthur,” he replied in a perturbed voice. “I’ve had a strange feeling ever since we left the cabin. Like...someone’s watching us.”

I took a look at the surrounding area, scanning the trees to our side.

“You see anyone?” I questioned.

“Not yet,” Eddie admitted, “but the feeling’s still there.”

“Well...just keep your eyes open,” I warned. “I doubt it’s Atticus, but there’s still plenty of bandits in these parts. Could be them.”

The pianist wasn’t so sure. “Maybe, but bandits don’t stalk you, do they?”

I let out a troubled sigh, shakin’ my head. “Not usually, no. Again, like I said -- just keep your eyes open. We don’t need any surprises.”

Tryin’ to ease Eddie’s nerves, I decided to switch topics and took on a softer tone, hoping to calm the man down a little.

“Listen,” I began, “when I asked if you was doin’ okay, I was more referring to the fact that we’re going back to England. To your homeland. I know you haven’t seen it in a long time, and I was just...curious, I guess. About what’s on your mind.”

Eddie chuckled in response, though it sounded more like he was laughing at himself.

“You know, it’s the strangest thing. From the moment I set foot in the States, I spent every second wishing I could go back home. I missed London. I missed my family, the people, the buildings, the culture, the way of life...”

I jumped in. “But now...?”

“But now...” he continued, “I honestly wish I could stay here. In America. With you.”

I grinned, admittedly a tad surprised. “Is that so?”

Eddie returned the smile. “I’m afraid it is. But...I know it’s not safe for us here anymore. I know we have to leave. It’s just -- I’ll miss America. Despite everything we’ve been through.”

“Aw, don’t worry,” I reassured him. “We’ll come back someday.”

The pianist smirked. “I’ll hold you to that.”

Ridin’ in silence for a few moments, a random thought suddenly crossed my mind when I glanced at Eddie’s mount, causing me to raise a question.

“Hey, I just noticed something. Whatever happened to your other horse, Bullet? I haven’t seen him around for a while.”

Eddie frowned at that, sighing mournfully. “He died, I’m afraid.”

My eyes sprang open in surprise. “Died? When?”

“He was shot down when Rodrick attacked our camp,” he explained. “I didn’t even get the chance to try to save him.”

Bewildered by the news, I thought back to the ambush and replayed all the events in my head as clearly as I could, suddenly realizin’ something I completely missed before.

If I recalled correctly, I took cover behind a dead horse at some point during the shootout. It was right after Eddie had just been shot in the leg and I was tryin’ to make my way to him.

...That must’ve been Bullet.

“Aw, shit...” I breathed out. “I’m sorry, Eddie. He was a good horse.”

“Yeah,” he agreed softly. “he was. I’ll miss that big brute. I’m just glad it wasn’t you.”

I leaned to the side and placed a hand on top of Eddie’s, comforting the pianist.

“Oh, you know I wouldn’t let that happen. And neither would you.”

Smiling warmly at the comment, Eddie’s face radiated with affection as he tightened his hand ‘round mine, gazing lovingly at me.

Just before he could reply however, a third voice suddenly cut him off from a distance and darkened the mood with a sense of dread, causin’ us to stop dead in our tracks.

“A sweet sentiment,” their voice flatly observed, “...but I’m afraid that’s all it is.”

Turnin’ to see just who the hell had interrupted us, I brought my focus to the opposite end of the road and spotted a mysterious man sitting on a horse, only to quickly recognize the Pinkerton badge shining brightly on his coat.

There was a large array of other agents protecting him on both sides -- all of them armed to the teeth -- and the more I searched the thick trees surrounding us, the easier I started to notice the sons-of-bitches hidin’ in the bushes.

I guessed Eddie’s instincts were correct.

“...Shit...” I cursed under my breath. “Milton.”

Eddie paused. “Wait, you know this man?”

I kept my voice low, makin’ sure that the bastard couldn’t hear me.

“He’s one of them Pinkertons,” I explained with a whisper. “He’s been hunting Dutch for months now. Even before I met you.”

“...Dammit. What should we do?”

I signaled Eddie to stay back with a simple gesture, remindin’ him to remain calm as Milton slowly approached the two of us.

“Just let me do the talking,” I said. “Don’t shoot anything yet.”

Eddie was obviously unsettled by the encounter but followed my lead anyway, keepin’ his hand close to his holster.

“...If you think that’s best. Just be careful.”

I gave him a nod, ensuring that I would.

Finally bringin’ my attention over to Milton, I tapped my spurs into the side of my horse and steadily trotted closer to him, wandering down the road alone as the other Pinkertons kept their guns nailed onto me.

I didn’t dare take my eyes off of Milton’s friends -- especially not that sleaze Ross -- and with every torturous second that passed by, I could feel Milton’s glare practically piercin’ through me more and more.

It was evident that he didn’t intend on lettin’ us walk outta here alive, and just by studying his arrogant demeanor, I could tell he had already captured some o’ the other folks in our gang.

My only question was who.

“Mister Morgan,” Milton greeted as I came to a halt. “Nice to see you again. It’s been quite a long time since we last spoke.”

I sighed to myself, already wishin’ I could kill this man. “...I do my best to avoid you.”

“So I see.”

The Pinkerton’s iron sight traveled over to Eddie, leading him into his next question. “...I assume that’s Mister Ryan?”

I followed Milton’s gaze and briefly glanced at the pianist, surprised that he knew him.

“Oh, there’s no need to be shocked,” Milton remarked, noticing my expression. “Micah Bell hardly left anything to question, after all. He’s been quite the informant as of late.”

An irritated breath escaped me. “Of course. Well...what is it that you want?”

The agent rested his arms on the horn of his saddle. “I want many things, Mister Morgan. Van der Linde, most of all. But also...you.”

That triggered a sense of alarm within me, but I decided to hold it back for now.

“So...what,” I asked, tryin’ to hide my agitation, “you here to kill me? Claim the price on my head? Is that it?”

Milton nonchalantly shook his head. “Not kill. ...Not yet.”

The Pinkerton raised his hands in a diplomatic manner and slowly walked towards me, closing the distance between us until there were only a couple meters left.

“I’ve come to make a deal, Mister Morgan.”

I let out a scoff. “A deal?”

“I’m offering you a chance to surrender,” Milton continued, disregarding my reluctance. “Lay down your weapons, and come with me peacefully. If you tell me where to find Van der Linde, I promise you won’t be executed.”

I refused to humor him.

“Ol’ Dutch? I haven’t seen him in weeks.”

The Pinkerton obviously didn’t believe me. “Is that so?”

“I’ve lied about many things in my time, agent,” I countered, “but that ain’t one of them.”

Milton’s mind remained unswayed. “Even so, my offer still stands. You may not know where Dutch is at the moment, but I’m sure a man like you would know how to find him. Help me locate Mister Van der Linde, and you have my word you won’t swing.”

I shrugged. “And you expect me to just believe you?”

The agent’s expression hardened with impatience. “You don’t have a choice.”

Cocking their guns as a warning, the other Pinkertons immediately assumed a more hostile stance as they cornered me and Eddie within the confines of this road, preventin’ us from going anywhere.

There were far too many of them for us to simply escape without a fight, and judging by the faint rustling I heard from behind me, I could only assume they had blocked us from the rear as well.

We were trapped.

“So,” Milton said, readying his own pistol, “what’s it going to be, Arthur? Shall we handle this like civilized folk...or do I need to order my men to open fire?”

Observin’ the Pinkertons with an alarmed glare, I started to grow restless as my heart began to pound heavily and I slowly realized just how many of them there actually were.

It looked like an entire goddamned battalion had ambushed us, and for as far as the eye could see, there were nothin’ but Pinkertons blocking us from every direction, making me feel as if we was trapped in a human cobweb.

It was clear to me that we had to get the hell outta here as soon as possible...but I just didn’t know how.

Eddie trotted closer to me and kept his voice hushed, whispering in a panicked tone.

“There’s too many of them, Arthur,” he stated, his eyes frantically dartin’ around. “If we start shooting, we’ll be slaughtered...!”

I glanced back at him, adamant that we would make it outta this.

“We can’t surrender now, Eddie. We’ve come way too far. If they take us, we’ll go straight to the gallows. You think that’s any better than dyin’ here?”

The pianist found himself at a dead end. “Well -- what else can we do? Do you believe Milton will actually spare you if we surrender?”

I shook my head. “I doubt it, but it don’t matter anyway. I ain’t gonna become a traitor like Micah. If Milton wants Dutch, he’s gon’ have to find him himself.”

“No,” Eddie disagreed, “Dutch betrayed you, Arthur. Not the other way around. You were his son and he almost killed you...! Don’t you want him to answer for what he did? Perhaps this is your chance.”

“I ain’t in the revenge business, Eddie.” I reminded him. “If Dutch is gonna die by my hand someday, so be it. But I won’t give these snakes the satisfaction.”

The other man sighed out of discouragement.

“Very well, but...” his voice trailed off into a grim silence, leadin’ me to urge him on.

“What is it?” I questioned.

Eddie gazed at me with an expression sharpened by genuine fear and clenched his jaw out of distress, knowing damn-well what the near-future held.

“...I don’t want to die, Arthur,” he confessed morosely. “If we don’t do what Milton says, his Pinkertons will kill us right here. We’ll...we’ll be dead. ...I’m not ready for that.”

I let out a heartbroken breath at the statement and bit my bottom lip, reluctant to admit that Eddie was right once the dreadful news sunk in.

We...we truly were done for, weren’t we?

We couldn’t surrender, and we couldn’t fight all these men either.

Just like that, all our efforts to get outta this country had been snuffed out like a dying candle because of these goddamned Pinkertons, and for the first time since I met Eddie, I was powerless to stop it.

...This was where we were gonna die.

This was how our journey was gonna come to an end.

These were my final moments in this godforsaken world, and the retribution for all the sins I had committed had caught up to me at last.

Even if I had to die today though, I refused to let the Pinkertons use me as their toy.

I was gonna go down fighting like the outlaw I was born to be, and I’d do it side-by-side with the man I loved.

There weren’t no glory in this kind of death, but perhaps there would be peace.

“...Arthur?” Eddie asked, bringin’ me back to reality. I could tell he was waiting for a decision. “What are you thinking?”

I steadily lowered my hand so that it was next to my holster and glared at Milton with an unbreakable stare, somehow tryin’ to comfort Eddie even in the face of imminent death.

“...We stand our ground.” I said with a heavy heart, attempting to remain strong for both our sakes. “Milton’s a goddamned fool if he thinks we’re gonna surrender.”

To my surprise, Eddie didn’t even question the choice and simply reached for his own revolver, barely wavering as he walked his horse to my side.

“Then I’ll stand with you.”

I gave Eddie a look of profound remorse, hopelessly wishing I could whisk him away from this mess.

“You know I love you, right?” I whispered compassionately, unable to believe I was truly sayin’ goodbye to this man.

“There’s no doubt in my mind.” He confirmed, maintaining his composure. “I love you, too, Arthur.”

Finally done with waitin’ for an answer, Milton raised his voice and called to us from the other end of the road, demanding a decision from us.

“Well? Have you made a choice, Mister Morgan? Will you accept my offer? My patience grows thin.”

I threw the Pinkerton a steadfast grin and lightly scoffed to myself, strangely amused by the fact that, despite cornering us, he still lost this battle.

“Not a chance, Milton,” I replied firmly. “...I’m afraid we’ll be outlaws for life.”

The agent responded with an ice-cold glower.

“...So be it.”

Boldly elevating his arm into the air with an open hand, Milton signaled the other Pinkertons to prepare for a fight.

“You chose this path, Arthur,” he announced, narrowing his eyes in anger. “Let it be known that I offered you mercy.”

The rest of the Pinkertons readied their rifles, eagerly taking aim.

“May God spare you from the suffering you’ve inflicted on His creatures, Mister Morgan,” Milton prayed apathetically. “...Because I certainly won’t.”

Striking like a thunderbolt, an unexpected bang echoed throughout the entire field as everyone instantly froze and birds soared away in the distance, all of us stuck in disbelief until we noticed a bullet hole buried in Milton’s skull.

It didn’t look like the agent had realized what had happened just yet, but after about a second of staring blankly into the space ahead of him, his eyes rolled into the back of his head and he collapsed to the ground, rendering us speechless.

I hurriedly searched for the source of the shot, only to spot Rodrick Kinglsey mounted on a horse in the distance.

Goddammit...

That son-of-a-bitch found us.

The madman cocked his smoking repeater and chuckled maliciously, goading the Pinkertons into a fight as the rest of Atticus’ gang joined the scene.

“You government boys did us a huge favor,” he mocked, “but we’ll take it from here.”

“Shit!” Agent Ross exclaimed sharply, finally snappin’ out of his state of shock. “There’s more of the bastards! Open fire!”

Not even wasting a single second, the Pinkertons began raining bullets on Atticus’ gang as guns fired off in every direction and smoke filled the air, forcin’ us to ride blind while horses frantically trampled all over the scene.

“Eddie!” I shouted over the commotion, “RUN!”

Takin’ this opportunity to flee, the pianist and I immediately hauled ass away from the battlefield as we shot down Pinkertons and outlaws alike, not sparing even one bullet during our escape.

Unfortunately for us, some of Atticus’ men had managed to single us out from the crowd -- including Rodrick -- and started to chase after us, shootin’ wildly as if there was no tomorrow.

“Shit!” Eddie yelled, dodging a bullet that just barely missed his head. “Where are we going?!”

I gestured in front of us. “Just keep headin’ south! We’ll try to lose them up ahead!”

Whippin’ my reins with a sharp tug, I glanced over my shoulder and fired a few shots at the men behind us, struggling to keep my aim straight with how much my horse was diggin’ its hooves into the ground.

I managed to kill one of Atticus’ men and sent them crashin’ into the dirt below, practically turning them into a human tumbleweed as they rolled through thick billows of dust.

It looked like the Pinkertons were keepin’ the rest of their gang busy with all the chaos surrounding Milton’s death, and fortunately for me and Eddie, I had yet to see any sign of Atticus Rose himself.

Though, if Rodrick was here runnin’ after us, I had no other choice but to assume he was close.

We would have to deal with him sooner or later.

“Arthur, look!” Eddie called out, pointing ahead. “There’s a bridge!”

Peering over the wavy hills laid out in front of us, I leaned forward in my saddle and gazed through the numerous trees, makin’ out a long hanging bridge not too far away from us.

It was positioned just above a colossal waterfall and connected the gap between two massive rock formations, both of which towered over the land like a pair of skyscrapers.

That could be our way out.

“Get across the bridge!” I told Eddie. “We’ll cut it down from the other side!”

The pianist glued his eyes onto the multiple people ridin’ behind me, instantly slipping his pistol out.

“That might be harder than you think...!”

Bringin’ my attention back to Rodrick and his men, I signaled for Eddie to follow my lead as the two of us started gunning them down together, both of us desperately tryin’ to pick up our speed.

It wouldn’t be too long before we’d be crossin’ that bridge now, and if we didn’t put enough distance between ourselves and Rodrick’s men, our plan to trap ‘em on the other side would’ve been one of futility.

“You go on ahead!” I exclaimed at Eddie, killing another one of Atticus’ people. “I’ll make sure these bastards stay back!”

“What? No!” Eddie rejected. “I’m not leaving you here, Arthur!”

I hurriedly reloaded my pistol. “Look, that bridge is too narrow for us to cross it at the same time anyway, so you may as well just go in front of me! Now, hurry!”

Letting out a reluctant sigh, the pianist pondered the dilemma for a moment before snappin’ his horse’s reins and bolting ahead, rushing directly towards the bridge’s entrance.

Just before he had any time to react however, I suddenly noticed a small group of Atticus’ men hidin’ on the other side, ready to cut the bridge down right as Eddie was about to cross it.

“Oh, shit,” I cursed, “Eddie! STOP!”

But it was too late.

Even though the pianist had already yanked the reins back with a great amount of force, the poor animal still slid onto the bridge’s rickety planks due to its incredible speed and let out a panicked neigh as the structure came swingin’ down, causing both the horse and Eddie to go plummeting towards the waterfall.

“EDDIE!” I yelled, immediately hopping off my own mount. I sprinted towards the edge of the cliff and looked down, only to see that the man was now dangling from a thin ledge as the waterfall raged underneath him.

“A-Arthur!” Eddie shouted back, his voice strainin’ with effort. “I can’t hold on much longer!”

“Here!” I said, extending an arm. “Grab my hand!”

Before I could get anywhere near the man though, the sound of someone cocking their gun abruptly reached my ears, leadin’ me to come to a halt.

It was Mister Kingsley himself.

“...I wouldn’t do that if I was you, sunshine.” He warned, wearin’ his usual grin. “You might hurt yourself.”

I steadily rose from the ground and turned to face the crazed man, secretly panicking on the inside about how Eddie was about to fall at any second.

“You son-of-a-bitch...” I muttered lowly, clenchin’ my fist. “What d’you want with us? Atticus, I understand, but you -- what the hell do you get outta this?”

Rodrick sauntered towards me and smiled widely, shrugging casually.

“Entertainment, my good sir,” he answered simply. “Entertainment. You see--” he let out a melodramatic sigh, “everybody’s so boring, nowadays. They’re always bein’ held back by polite manners, or etiquette, or some goddamn pretense.”

Rodrick gestured to me. “You though? You’re so easy to rile up. All someone’s gotta do is point a gun at Mister Ryan, and you’re ready to kill a man.” An amused chuckle escaped him. “You can pretend to be a good man all you want, Arthur. Everyone knows you’re just as rotten as the rest of us. Nothin’ but another thief with larceny in his blood. Ain’t no shame in it though. In fact, that’s what I like about you.”

I strengthened my gaze and glared at Kingsley, starin’ him down.

“I used to be like that, but not anymore.”

He scoffed in a bored manner. “Pfft...come on, Morgan. Don’t tell me you’ve grown a conscious suddenly. All because you helped one man? What about the other men in your life? Lenny? Strauss? Hosea? All of ‘em died ‘cause you felt Eddie was more important. Tell me...d’you feel like a hero yet?”

“Shut your mouth, Kingsley!” I snapped, raisin’ my voice.

“Or what?” He asked with a smirk. “You’ll kill me? I’m the one with a gun in my hand, sunshine.”

Rodrick strolled closer to me and playfully tapped the barrel of his pistol against my hat, clearly enjoying himself.

“Oh, how easy it would be to put a bullet in your head right now. I could take away everything you’ve worked for, everything you’ve achieved. I could destroy Eddie’s entire life with just the simple pull of a trigger, and he’d never see you again. I gotta admit...havin’ that much power at my fingertips -- it’s almost addicting.”

Kingsley suddenly pointed his gun away from me and took a few steps back, reachin’ for his knife.

“...But I won’t do it. After all, where’s the fun in shootin’ such an interesting creature like you? Naw...you and me, we’re gonna fight man-to-man. Outlaw-to-outlaw. Killer-to-killer.”

He brandished his knife and began circling around me, encouragin’ me to follow his actions.

“Well, come on then, sunshine! Do your worst. ...Show me exactly what kind of a monster Dutch van der Linde created.”

Barely givin’ me a chance to fight back, Rodrick aggressively lunged forward and started slashing erratically at me, sporting an insane smile as the sky grew darker above us, and the rumbling of thunder lurked in the distance.

By now, the clouds had evolved into one, monstrous shadow that blotted out the sun and stretched across the entire region, leavin’ just enough room for a slice of sunlight.

As for Kingsley himself, the bastard fought more like a wild animal than a man and moved sporadically around me, makin’ it even more difficult than usual to read his patterns.

“What’s the matter, Arthur?” Rodrick taunted, throwin’ a punch at me. “You ain’t got any fight left in you?”

Spitting out a mouthful of blood, I hurriedly reached down and whipped out my own knife before retaliating with a few solid cuts to his chest, rippin’ through the fabric of his suit.

Despite managing to make Rodrick bleed however, the wound didn’t seem to slow him down at all. He simply bounced back from the injury as if it was nothing, and if I didn’t know any better, I would’ve said it actually fueled him to fight harder.

The man suddenly grabbed me by the collar and slammed me against a nearby boulder, knockin’ the wind outta my lungs.

“Gonna have to do more than that, Morgan...!”

Forcing his knife towards my throat, Rodrick wrestled with me as I desperately tried to push him away and practically crushed his hand with an iron grip, making my arm tremble due to the amount of strength I was puttin’ on it.

The two of us scratched and clawed at each other like a bunch of animals and nearly tore each other apart in the mud, our faces becoming more and more bruised as the fight carried on.

“Why won’t you just die...?!”

Closin’ my fist, I repeatedly slammed my knuckles into Rodrick’s cheekbone and damn-near smashed his face in, doin’ everything I could to get the madman off me.

Luckily, with one final punch to the nose, I put enough power behind the attack to send Rodrick reeling and shoved him away from me, afterwards tackling him to the ground.

Keeping the man down with my weight, I began pressing my own knife into his throat and struggled against his resistance, lettin’ out a pained groan when Rodrick started twisting the skin on my wrist.

There was blood streaming down from his nose at this point, but even with the numerous lacerations decoratin’ his body and a broken nose, Kingsley still brawled with the same amount of prowess as he did before.

He jabbed his knee into my gut and threw me off, takin’ a second to regain his footing.

“You fight like the devil himself, sunshine,” Rodrick growled in a deranged tone. “I almost don’t wanna kill you!”

Rising back to his feet with an unbalanced sway, the maniac loosely charged at me again and aimed straight for my throat, tiredly trampling through the soupy mud beneath our feet.

Thanks to his fatigued state however, I managed to grab him by the shoulders and hurl him in a different direction, pinnin’ the lunatic against a tree as I practically held onto him for support, admittedly more beaten up than I cared to show.

Determined to put an end to this vicious fight, I wasted no time in takin’ hold of my knife and immediately thrusting it forward, eagerly planting the blade deep into Rodrick’s abdomen as the man’s eyes widened in shock.

It was the first time I had ever seen the outlaw in a state of fear or pain, and as malignant as it might’ve sounded, just gettin’ the chance to watch that cocky grin finally be wiped off his goddamned face granted me with a dark sense of satisfaction that I had never felt before.

I drilled the knife even further into his stomach, almost snarling at him while his hot blood stained my hand.

“You’re wrong, Kingsley,” I said through gritted teeth, stabbing him again. “I am a good man.”

I drove the blade into him one last time, twistin’ the weapon inside his chest.

“...But only when I need to be.”

Watchin’ the life vanish from his eyes, I didn’t even bother to blink as Rodrick writhed in pain and blood gathered in his mouth, causing him to choke.

His face was red with agony and the veins in his forehead protruded from his skin, makin’ me think they were about to burst.

Though, to my surprise, Kingsley managed to conjure one, final smile and let out a hoarse laugh, revealing the bloodied teeth beneath.

“...Oh...you got me, Morgan...” he wheezed out. “...You got me. My only regret is...lettin’ you kill me before going after Atticus. My, my, what a show that would’ve been...”

Rodrick weakly patted my hand, uttering his last words.

“...Go on...and raise some hell, would you, sunshine? I know it’s gonna be beautiful...it always is...”

Drifting into a deathly silence, Rodrick’s body finally fell limp as his last breath escaped him and his hand slipped from the knife’s hilt, allowin’ me to relax for the first time in a while.

I couldn’t believe he was actually dead.

After so many months of him tormenting me and Eddie -- there were times when I felt like the bastard would never die.

He just seemed so invincible. So welcoming to death. So...inhumane.

But I was foolish to think in such a way. It was clear to me now that Rodrick bled just like every other son-of-a-bitch on this Earth...and boy, was I glad that he did.

Removin’ my blade from the man’s torso, I stepped away and let his body collapse to the soaking wet ground, instantly bringing my focus back to Eddie now that Kingsley was dead.

I had no idea if the pianist was still latched on to that little piece of rock on the cliff face, but to think that he already fallen to his death made me sick with worry.

“Eddie!” I called out, kneeling by the edge. “You there?”

Thankfully, I got a response.

“I’m here, Arthur! But the rock’s too wet! I-I can’t climb up!”

I reached a hand down, suddenly realizin’ just how much blood was covering it.

“Come on! I’ll pull you up!”

Grabbing onto my arm, Eddie grunted with effort and hoisted himself onto my level, usin’ the thin ledges in the cliff’s side as leverage.

“I got you, darling,” I comforted, helping him over the edge. “I got you.”

Finally returning to the surface, Eddie gladly plopped himself on the grass and simply sat there for a moment, briefly catchin’ his breath.

“Jesus Christ...” he panted out, “that...that was close. Thank you, Arthur. I would’ve slipped soon if you didn’t help.”

“No need to thank me,” I replied, also out of breath. “Let’s just get the hell outta here...and go to Saint Denis. I’ve had enough of this goddamn place.”

Eddie nodded in agreement and stood up from the ground, only to freeze mid-action when he noticed Rodrick’s body sitting against the tree.

The pianist paused for a second, staring blankly at his corpse.

“Wait...Rodrick’s dead?” He asked, clearly in disbelief. “...You...you killed him?”

“I did.” I said firmly. “And I’d do it again.”

Contrary to what I expected, Eddie sighed in regret and hung his head low, recalling all the encounters he had with that lunatic.

“That crazy bastard...” he whispered softly. “Both him and Middleton pursued me for years. I never thought I’d be blessed to see the day he died. My only regret is that I couldn’t help you finish him off.”

I laid a reassuring hand on Eddie’s shoulder, urgin’ him to look away.

“Well...he’s as dead as they come now, thank God. We should move before we end up like him.”

“Yeah. You’re right. Come on, let’s...”

Eddie suddenly paused, jerking his head around in confusion as if he had just heard something.

I shrugged. “What?”

The pianist brought his gaze upwards, leadin’ him to point towards the sky.

“Arthur, look.”

Following his line of sight, I turned around and saw a magnificent rock formation dominating the landscape in the distance, as well as a group of people who were fightin’ on top of it.

The rock was shaped like an anvil and tilted towards the clouds with an incredible height, almost as if it were a ramp to the heavens themselves.

Once I took a better look though, I realized that the people standing atop weren’t just some random passersby. The majority of them was Pinkertons...and they were fighting Atticus.

“It’s Atticus,” I remarked nonchalantly. “So what?”

Eddie gave me a resolute stare, formulatin’ a plan in his head.

“...We have to kill him, Arthur.”

I pulled back at the idea, lookin’ at the other man in bewilderment.

“What? Eddie, we can’t--”

“--We have to,” he reiterated, taking hold of my hand. “If we don’t, he’ll never stop chasing us. Atticus already followed me to America. What makes you think he won’t follow us to England? This is our chance to eliminate him! Rodrick is dead, and the Pinkertons have him cornered. We can do this.”

I let out a deep breath, still tentative about the proposal.

“...You know how I feel about vengeance, Eddie.”

The pianist persisted. “This isn’t about vengeance. We’ve been looking at this all wrong, Arthur. We’re never going to be free if we just...keep running! We need to face Atticus head-on. We need to kill him. Otherwise, this journey’s never going to end. You know that.”

Chewin’ on my lip in thought, I pondered the decision for a while as I weighed our options, genuinely torn about what to do.

On one hand, I knew Eddie wasn’t gonna leave this place so long as Atticus still breathed. They had too much history. Too much to settle. They both needed closure.

And on top of that, I couldn’t deny that I conceded Eddie’s point about Atticus chasin’ us halfway across the world. That old man had done it before, after all, and I’d seen how relentless he could be for myself.

What worried me though, was the number of Pinkertons we’d have to fight through in order to reach him. They was givin’ him hell at the moment, and I wasn’t sure if Eddie and I would be able to kill that many people on our own.

I mean, we barely escaped death not too long ago. The last thing I wanted to do was tempt it even more.

But, then again...I knew Eddie well enough to know that once he had his mind set on something, it’d be foolish to get in his way.

As much as I wanted to just leave and high-tail it outta here, I couldn’t help but wonder if he was right. Maybe this was our chance to get rid of Atticus.

Maybe we could finally put an end to this godforsaken war, and close this chapter in our lives.

We just had to be brave enough to do it.

“...Okay,” I agreed at last. “You’re right. Atticus needs to die.”

Eddie’s expression perked with hope, and a glint of excitement twinkled in his eyes.

“You mean, you’ll help me kill him?”

I nodded assertively and thought back to the day Eddie and I killed Middleton, swiftly takin’ out my revolvers as the two of us made our way to Atticus.

“For you...anything.”

[afangirlwashere]

Wrong door (Louis x reader)

(gif is not mine all credit goes to the creator)

A/N: so.......I’m gonna keep this short and quick......after what the fuck happened to my sweet sweet boy in this episode I just really really needed some Louis in my life ‘kay? This was sitting in my drafts since episode 2 and I forgot how good of a boy he was. I still can’t fucking believe what the actual fuck fuck happened what the fu-anyways.. If any of you have any burning ideas my requests are open so....y’know what to do...I’m sad and angry and need to go to bed so I hope you enjoy...peace.....✌️

Warnings: just some swearing, don’t worry about spoilers there ain’t any for ep. 3

Summary: Soup sucks as much as changes nobody told you about. 

(while reading I suggest you listen to this song bc it’s a bop and it nicely flows with the fic)

Soup.  Soup all the time. It was definitely better than starving but ugh.. Fuck that soup! 

(Y/N) would KILL for some fruit.  ‘Apple... Or a banana... Oh my god... Watermelon!’

“What ya’ thinking about?” Ruby asks.

“Watermelon...” (Y/N) blurts out.

Everybody at the table grunts in unison. 

“Goddamnit (Y/N)! Why do you always do this? Now I want it so bad I’d shave my head for it!” Louis bangs his head on the picnic table.

“No, you wouldn’t.” Violet says unfazed while putting another spoon of the tasteless soup in her mouth.

“Yeah, you’re right... But I’d shave your head for a piece.” Louis points at her with his spoon while smiling charmingly.

Violet has just about enough energy to roll her eyes at him.

“Or an orange... orange juice...” (Y/N) dreamily looks ahead of her.

“Somebody shut her up or I’m gonna leave this table!” Louis covers his ears.

“Please continue (Y/N).” Vi turns to her and sneers. 

“Strawberries...” she can feel the drools almost slipping her mouth.

“You’re killing me!” Louis is jokingly overdramatic as usual.

It gets annoying from time to time but at least it’s entertaining. Not a lot of fun stuff happening around here anymore.

He was the fun one of the group.  Definitely.

“Alright, I had enough!” Aasim angrily stomps to their table. 

(Y/N) didn’t notice him walking towards them because of her fruit fantasies. 

He throws a bunch of letters in front of them. 

“Whoever is doing this it’s time to stop!” he seems to be getting more and more furious each second he has to stand there “You guys already make fun of me all the fucking time especially you Louis! So if this is one of your stupid jokes-”

“Hold up, hold up... Why the fuck do you have these?!” Louis stands up.

“So they are from you!” Aasim furrows his eyebrows.

“I’ll repeat myself one more time. Why the fuck do you have these?!” Louis snarls.

That’s a whole new side of him. He never seemed to get too angry about... anything. Thinking about it (Y/N) has never seen him in a real fight with anyone yet. Well not in a fight that wasn’t supposed to be a joke.  He was kinda scary in this state. 

“Because you keep fucking shoving them under my door!” 

“No, I don’t! Your room is upstairs!” Louis defends himself.

“What is going on?” Ruby whispers to the others.

“I’m not sure, but I’m intrigued.” Tenn’s big eyes keep moving from one boy to the other. 

(Y/N) shrugs “I don’t know... I just wanted some fruit.” 

“No, it’s not! My room is eight doors before yours! I switched my old one with (Y/N)’s because she kept knocking on my door every night to climb on the rooftop and then left through my room again! It got annoying and I couldn’t sleep so I offered her to switch!” the vein on Aasim’s forehead kept on getting bigger and bigger. 

Louis stared at Aasim in shock.

If Louis wasn’t in the middle of that conflict (Y/N) could just hear him saying “Careful! If that vein pops we’re gonna have a problem.” 

“So I was... I-I was giving the letters... The whole time! To you?” 

“YES!” Aasim picks them all up again and throws them at Louis’s head and storms off to the school building. 

Louis runs after him right away “Aasim! Wait! Come on dude I wasn’t making fun of you let me explain!” 

The rest of the kids at the table exchange confused looks. 

When the wind picks up all letters start to scatter around.

“We should catch ‘em. Don’t want them floating around.” Ruby picks up two letters that still haven’t left the table. 

Tenn - being the smallest one - crawls under the table to catch another one.

(Y/N) has to chase one for a bit till it gets stuck in a bush. Violet hands her the rest of them. She notices (Y/N)’s confused stare “They were obviously meant for you. I hope you realize that... He thought he was sliding them in your room the whole time.” 

(Y/N) sets her gaze on the letters.

There were little doodles on every envelope. Stars, hearts, snowflakes, cartoony looking walkers, heads of dogs and cats, little bees, butterflies,   pressed old looking flower, all that cute stuff. 

“But why the hell would he-” (Y/N) stops talking the moment Violet’s expression changes into ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’  

“Do I really have to explain this to you as well? Louis would flirt with anything that has two legs. I thought you weren’t that oblivious... It’s obvious he likes you.” Vi keeps an unbothered stare.

“I picked up on that I’m not that dumb. But why wouldn’t he just... tell me? He is a very verbal guy after all.” (Y/N) shrugs.

Violet looks a lot less unbothered while rubbing her eyes now “Because he’s one of those ‘helpless romantics’, I don’t know! He’s an idiot! An extra idiot! He probably has like fifty songs prepared for you. I think he wanted you to feel special or something like that... I don’t know how boys think!” 

“Yeah, you might have a point...” (Y/N) thinks out loud “There was this one time I wanted Ruby to braid my hair but she didn’t have time so Louis offered he’d do it.” 

Violet looks startled “He knows how to braid hair?” 

“He doesn’t.” (Y/N) chuckles “Well he didn’t know at the time but I taught him. It took some time but he really liked it so I taught him a fish braid and dutch braid and... looking back at it now I don’t think he was that interested in braiding my hair.” 

“He just wanted to spend time with you... I mean he does pick you for everything. Patrols? Hunts?”

“I’m gonna go talk to him.” (Y/N) clutches the letters with more force. 

“Hey!” Vi shouts right after her “Just... Whatever you do, don’t hurt him too much alright?” 

Louis sat at an old school desk. There was still one room left mostly untouched by the disasters of the apocalypse. 

The downstairs classroom which was meant for classes like history, geography, and biology.  They took most of the maps off the walls because they were useful but some of them still stayed up. 

The chalkboard was filled with drawings. They dedicated this one to the kids so they could have fun with it. There were other chalkboards in other rooms which they used for plans or rules.  Until they got out of chalk. 

Still, it was nice to see one part of the school stay the same. 

Louis remembered the boring biology classes he spent sending secret messages with Marlon or drawing funny pictures of Miss. Gonzales - their teacher. Oh, how he wishes he paid more attention in that class. 

“Can we talk?” 

Louis dreaded this moment ever since he slipped that first letter under the door. Which kind of backfired at him with that whole Aasim thing but... He’ll be angry about it for a while and eventually, he’ll forget.  Aasim is not very good at holding grudges. 

“You know, I found those envelopes and papers here... And then I got that stupid idea to write letters. I’m gonna go dig a grave before I fully process how much I fucked up this time.” his foot is nervously tapping on the floor. 

“Oh come on it wasn’t that bad. Could have been worse I think. You could have been accidentally sending them to Violet.” (Y/N) sits down in the school desk that’s next to him.

“Nope, that wouldn’t have happened. I would slide that piece of paper under her door and before I could straighten my back she’d open the door and throw the envelope on my head just like Aasim did.” Louis weakly smiles.

(Y/N) has the same smile on her face. 

“Listen, Louis,” she starts “I picked up on your little crush on me.”

“Little? It’s huge! It overgrew me in a few weeks! I couldn’t even look at you when I was talking to you! Felt like my face was on fire every time!” 

(Y/N) looks at him startled “Well... Okay... I-I just wanted to tell you that I’m not freaked out by this. I don’t think you’re weird or anything.” she put the letters on the table in front of him “Here... I haven’t read any of them. If you don’t want me to read them I won’t. You can keep them and do whatever you want with them. Burn them, bury them, keep them, I don’t know. But I’ll let you decide.” 

Louis looks at her with big dark eyes “You... You don’t want them?”

“No! It’s not like that!” (Y/N) panicks “I just thought maybe you wish you could take it all back and getting rid of them without me ever seeing what you wrote could help you.” 

He looks at her with furrowed brows “I want you to keep them. Don’t read them now though that would be... weird. If anything happens to me I want you to have them so that, you know, you’ll have something left from me.” 

“Nothing is going to happen to you, Louis. I’m not losing you. You’re going to be safe and sound here with us. At home.” 

The older boy studies her face for a good second “If I wasn’t so sure you didn’t feel the same way about me like I feel about you I’d say you like me too little (Y/N).” he smirks. 

She takes a shaky breath “Never said I didn’t.” 

His response is just like she presumed.  Shocked. His stare is a bit uncomfortable but what else could he do?

“I was just waiting for you to y’know... Say something. I’m not the most confident in these ‘romantic’ things I’m sure you’re aware of that. But you seem to shine in those things so I thought... you would do something.” (Y/N) feels the need to explain her point of view.

“I just-I never thought you-I mean you always-you always seemed to not care. I thought you didn’t think about me the same way I do about you.”

“I mean, yeah you’re kinda annoying. I don’t really get how you can just blurt out stuff without caring plus your jokes can be a little insensitive at times and you named your weapon Chairless which I still think is the most childish thing you ever did but... I guess it’s all part of the reasons why I like you so much. You’re different.” (Y/N) smiles at him. 

“That was the nicest thing anyone has said about me.” Louis stands up while fixing the collar on his jacket. 

“Well, you are a nice person.” the girl stands up as well “No doubt about that.” 

They stand facing each other for a few seconds and then Louis speaks again.

“Tomorrow. After lunch. Come to the piano room.” his voice is back at his confidently relaxed tone which makes (Y/N) happier than she thought it would.

“Like a date?” she asks out of curiosity. 

“Like a date.” he nods and walks past her brushing his shoulder against hers on purpose. 

(Y/N) grins widely and turns around “I’ll be there. And you better play me a song that you’ve written about me.” 

Louis looks back over his shoulder “Oh don’t worry. I got a lot of those up in my sleeves.” he winks at her and finally leaves.

(Y/N)’s stomach did that weird thing again that it did when she first met Louis. If she remembered correctly Minnie always said that those were “butterflies in your stomach” and somehow...? It perfectly described the feeling. 

[vivaindiffrnce]

 GERMANY TOUR: WIESBADEN, LINDAU AND LEIPZIG

probably the best three days of my life. definitely the most adventurous weekend ever.

(more after the cut cause that post would be way too long without it) (but yooo read it if you can it was an Adventure)

(i’m gonna do it in bullet points cause After Tour Sickness is real and i’m pretty cure i have fever lmao)

WIESBADEN:

patrick and i drove from his place to wiesbaden around 10

played werewolves and cards against humanity with derek (he picked my card in his round B) he liked the idea of heaven being full of puppies)

derek smoked my weed and stole brendon’s lighter because he got “inspired”

pro tip: if you’re planning to eat food out of cans for a few days don’t forget to pack a can opener

the show was amazinggggg 

i ripped my pants and bruised my entire butt in the pit 10 seconds into dirty fucker (i officially have the Real punk ripped pants so i’m happy about that)

after the show we waited for frank, he came out suuuuper late (like 1:30) and came up to the small group of people that were still there, we were talking in a group for a couple of minutes

he asked us what songs we wanted on the setlist so patrick and i were like….. BFF and this song is a curse etc and he included all the songs we asked for in the next setlist uwu

after a few minutes he was like…. so does anyone want some pictures or something, it was hilarious

“my hands are too small to sign this record”

when my turn came i asked for my personalized boozey and the convo went something like

me: sooo i wanted to ask you to draw a boozey for me. but. the boozey is a vampire. how cool is that. a vampire ghost. cara: ALLIGATOR ghost (yea she beat me, that’s so much cooler and i’m gonna work on that tattoo)

then our Squad asked frank for a picture 

basically everyone (including cara) was like “FRANK NO” and frank was like “FRANK YES” (you can see the result of this mess in picture 3 and the gif- thank god for live pictures)

LINDAU:

we drove all night to motherfucking bavaria and after that i was so tired i don’t even remember falling asleep, just waking up covered in blankets with my friends around me

tubthumping officially became our tour song

patrick said i was a highlight of the tour cause i was so delirious i was singing britney spears?

i accidentally rickrolled the entire queue, derek, frnk and the patience and dave hause.

later brendon, patrick and i went to smoke a joint (the dutch culture B)) with derek and a few people joined (haha get it, joined for a joint) and among these people was matt olsson, and miles from the mermaid (but he couldn’t smoke with us after all cause he had soundcheck) so that’s the story how we smoked weed with the homeless gospel choir and ¼ of the patience

started a pit before doors to all star and britney spears and taking back sunday????

derek’s set was A MESS, his guitar cable wasn’t working so he went down to the crowd using patrick’s head to support himself and we went on stage so we switched places (you can see that in one of the pictures, i’m the one sitting on the edge of the stage in my death tshirt)

later he forgot lyrics to crazy

LATER his guitar string broke so he played normal with just 5 strings and for why he got to play frank’s guitar

he was super sad about that set later but for me it was the best show of his out of the ones i saw, it was so magically imperfect and everyone had so much fun

the fiatp show was even more amazing than the show in wiesbaden

i hugged the fuck out of patrick during BFF 

started a 5 person big pit in the front row to this sing is a curse, because MYYYYY FRIENDS WE CAN DO ANYTHING WITH SCIENCE EXCEPT SAY GOODBYE

 we were going right after the show cause we had to drive like 6 hours to leipzig

at like 6am i asked nina to play danger days cause it was finally not raining and when planetary go started playing i realised i was going 160 km/h (context: i’m usually too scared to go over 70 in a 90 zone in poland)

turns out it’d be better if i didn’t go that fast cause later i got a speeding ticket for going over 70 in a 60 zone…… hope i’ll get the lower ticket cause i want to be able to afford to live this month

LEIPZIG

the queue was the coolest and chillest queue ever idk it was awesome

i drew some doodles on a poster hanging around the venue and someone thought they were made by frank so they stole the poster lmao now an emo kid has mine and patrick’s matching tattoo hanging in their room

i did entire choreography to the eye of the tiger on top of a random cabinet in front of the venue

a group of Adults following derek on tour asked us if we wanted some food cause they ordered way too much and didn’t wanna waste it and tbh i was so moved but i couldn’t really show it but i hope that’s the kind of person i will be in a few years

THE BEST SHOW I HAVE EVER BEEN TO

almost passed out like twice but the show was so good i’m pretty sure the only thing holding me up was my will to get to the end of the show

it was so good…. we went soooo fucking hard holy shit

nina and i went so hard to helter skelter wtf that was amazing (who’d think the beatles could make us go that hard)

nina caught evan’s picks and gave one to me!!!!!

met evan and cara after the show and evan signed my record and my pick and cara signed my setlist (she signed it as “coffeebutt” i love her)

ok so after the show frank wasn’t supposed to go out but one girl gave her drawing of frank to derek (to give it to frank you get me) and frank liked it so much he came out of the bus just to find her and he just stayed to say hi to us i guess?

patrick and i asked frank to draw friendship tattoos for us and he drew the most amazing design ever and explained it as “poison and antidote” and the designs are perfect for us holy shit

then we got a hardstyling picture with frank so tbh what more could i ask for? i have officially acheived my final form

matt and alex also signed my record (keep the coffins coming) so now i have ktcc with everyone’s signatures 

i think that alex was kinda… intoxicated so he wasn’t happy when i asked him to sign it cause he “doesn’t play on that record. he plays the songs but he doesn’t actually play on any record” and i didn’t know what to say so i just left lmao

then we talked about politics with evan for a couple of minutes it was great, love me some Woke Guitarists

idk it was amazing idk what else to say

so yeah. 5 shows down, 8 to go. the best time of my life and i can’t wait for friday!!!

[silverhands-etcetera]

Down The Wrong Road.

The first time I came to Europe with the Joy Mills Band, we had a gig at Lenno’s place. -Ok, it’s not actually called “Lenno’s Place”, it has a longish Dutch name that I can’t come close to pronouncing. The first letter of the name is an apostrophe.

Up on a little corner of Zeeland, which is a piece of land above the Belgian border, but still technically Netherlands, there’s a community called Ossenisse. A tiny little town with maybe five streets, a church and graveyard, and one bar/restaurant (or “eetkafe”). You pull off of the four-lane highway and drive until the pavement gets approximately one car wide, and all of the roads are just raised dikes around flat pastures & fields of sugar beets. Keep driving further out past anything that looks like a place of business, and soon you’ll see a modest church tower & a cluster of houses sitting alone a few miles away. That’s your destination.

Since first coming here with Joy, I don’t think I’ve done a tour that hasn’t stopped in Ossenisse. Lenno is another one of these gems you meet out on the road. He retired from a career in professional audio and opened his own place. He’s got instruments hanging from the ceiling in the bar & posters of old shows on the walls, -the 2016 Silverhands tour poster is featured prominently in the dining room, right next to a DelVox poster. At this point I’m pretty familiar with the room, we even slept on the stage once after a show.

A shelf above the bar displays an array of specifically different Belgian beers, which Aimee started down the line toward sampling, but I stuck to the tap, which pours the best beer I have ever found, the Bavik Super Pils. I’m not a beer nerd, it’s not like I was pining for my next encounter with the stuff, but when I saw that familiar tap, I admit I went slightly aflutter. There is truth to the idea that experiencing food & drink in the place where they were made is always a more balanced and accurate picture of what the intention was in making it. The air is different here, the water and the minerals in it are specific to each place. Just like fino sherry tastes better when consumed near the salty air of the Atlantic, drinking a Bavik from the tap in the low ground of Zeeland hits you just right, and seconds after Lenno hands you the glass, all of the tension of the day’s drive washes off of you. It’s good to be back.

It’s an early show, like a Sunday matinee. We go on at 3 and play until suppertime at 6. To get to the gig on time we had to wake up early (for us) and waste no time on the highway. But load-in is easy -the stage is packed with a backline of cool gear you actually want to use, so most of our own gear can stay in the van, and Lenno gets you set up & sounding great with the calm demeanor of somebody who has seen it all a million times. He’s got a bass amp that I have seen nowhere else in the world, a combo with four 12” speakers -basically the exact configuration that usually sounds like its design was an afterthought to a guitar player’s idea of what bass is, but the tone was rich like gravy, without smothering the rest of the band. There’s also a sparkling red Kustom tuck & roll guitar amp that was too cool to not play. Sherri plugged in, and it sat sideways in front of me on the huge stage. Aimee was up on a riser to my left on a full Pearl kit with a huge 24” kick drum. Michael was across the way, with his amp facing back towards us.

—

I love the scene here. The sun is breaking through rain clouds outside, and shining in through the windows, filling the room with wet, almost-rainbow light. This little town of maybe twenty houses has somehow produced an audience that fills every chair in the dining room. The good people of Ossenisse sit at square cafe tables enjoying coffee or tea, and perhaps a pastry, and Del Vox is on stage, rocking the house.

The care that Lenno has put into the place is obvious, and somehow he has engineered a listening room where a fairly aggressive rock band can play to the top of our range of energy, without being the slightest bit offensive to the room. It’s a feeling like we are on a movie screen or something, except we get to break the fourth wall after every song.

By the end of the set, I had dialed in the ancient bass amp. I was digging the nuance it was reproducing, trying to take in and set to memory as much as possible of what I knew to be a rare & fleeting sensation. I was never able to put my finger on what the amp was doing, frequency-wise, that was making it push in the places that I needed it to. I’m sure at least half of it was situational to the room -much like the beer, this amp in any other place wouldn’t contain the same mix of magic as it does standing right here.

—

I was obviously tripping out a bit by the end of the set, due to all the sonic mysticism going on, but also because I hadn’t eaten since breakfast.

After the gigs here, Lenno puts a row of pub tables together in the bar, forming a long, family-style dining table. The band gets to stay for supper, and supper is relentless & beautiful. Plates of different fishes, bowls of stew, frites, salad, all of the things. You’re hungry from the long gig, but it’s also the best food you’ve ever tasted. Every time I’ve played here I have been amazed and absolutely fulfilled by the array of offerings brought to us. The communal experience of eating with the audience & Lenno is a perfect punctuation to a great gig.

—

We packed up our gear and paid our respects to the staff (two sixteen-year-old kids had been pouring beers for us all night), & we got in the van and headed out of town to the single-wide trailer home that Lenno kindly keeps for traveling bands needing a place to crash.

We carried in our luggage & what’s left of the grocery store beer & the $6 “Old House” brand scotch whiskey. The little place is super cozy, and we’re all glowing from the evening & the string of great shows we’ve had. -The drinks we’re stuck with at this point is a bit of a let-down from where we were at the bar, but we get by.

We started out with a euchre game, but as our ranks thinned out, we evolved into hands of Gin, between Aimee & I until roughly 3am. Somewhere along the evening, we discovered, quite accidentally, that when the skunky grocery store beer was cut with the basically undrinkable $6 whiskey, it made them both significantly more tolerable. This particular cocktail of Old House scotch & Falkenfelser Bier was christened the “Buttermaker” -in the second Walter Matthau reference in this story to date.

—

In the morning, the rain had cleared, but the sun was still in and out of the clouds. The sky was dramatic, and Aimee & Sherri & I made the perhaps two mile trek back to town on foot. Horses, cows, giant piles of sugar beets, one wrong turn. It’s good to walk.

We gave Lenno his keys & he set us up with two rounds of coffees. I’ll be back in two weeks for the final show of the Silverhands tour. We’re heading up to Antwerp for a day of rest. It’s been a great week of shows, only one more left for Del Vox and we’ll make the switch. I actually wish I could just keep doing what we’re doing for the rest of the month. We’re getting pretty good at it.