#Paradise Hideout

[fullscoreshenanigans]

It's a combination of things, but I think it's partially a general shift away from clutter that was more prominent a decade back (but this could be biased based on who I follow).

This is what really long posts with multiple comments used to look like before they switched to the modern block separation they have now:

Unwieldy and near impossible to read with the words being stretched out, and sometimes these reblog chains would contain nothing but multiple additions of "^" or "this" or reactions gifs. Nothing really substantial being added, just something to show you'd been there. Again this might just be my bias showing based on who I followed, but there was more lighthearted, liberal use of all of this until maybe 2016 where posts of this length were widely shared among people on the site rather than just within smaller friend groups or fandom enclaves.

This was before you could delete the previous reblogs on a post from the person you were reblogging from who wasn't the OP rather than going to the OP's original post if you didn't want the extra editions, just the original post. This was also before hashtags showed up in your activity feed or in the notes of a post for easier viewing. If you wanted to see the tags, you had to manually go through each person's blog to view them.

Once hashtags showed up in the notes of posts is when people made more of a conscious effort to use them to avoid what they considered distracting or detracting from what they were reblogging, believing it was obnoxious or inane.

(I'll emphasize you definitely can still comment on posts unless the OP has turned off reblogs altogether, but this sentiment isn't uncommon on here.)

Sometimes when people like the previous tags on a post but don't want to add them in a comment for whatever reason (feeling they'll be perceived as annoying, not wanting to draw attention to themselves and their chain of a reblog, etc.), they'll copy them into the tags of their post and mention that they're the previous reblogger's tags as a quieter form of peer review.

I don't entirely agree with the "you won't annoy OP" part of this post because the OP can see all the tags on a post in their feed now (assuming the site is functioning properly and they haven't muted the post) and I've see people call out tags in reblogs on their posts, but I'd say the rest of it perfectly encapsulates what a lot of people enjoy about the feature that makes them opt to express themselves via tags rather than commenting directly on the post itself.

Other factors that play a role:

Whether the original post is text-focused. If it is, it seems more inviting for discussion and adding on with a comment. If it's art or a video, you might have a comment to make, but you don't think it's *that* important or funny outside of your group of mutuals and followers, so you're more inclined to put it in the tags to avoid it breaching your intended audience. - Alternatively, if you just want the OP, potentially the person who reblogged a post (if you're not replying directly on the OP's blog), and whoever else opens up the replies to see your comment, you post in the replies.

Tumblr largely moving away from reblogs to likes and people lurking (post on that here with visuals). Even when people do reblog, they might not add anything in the tags. Maybe they don't want to draw any attention to themselves and be perceived, maybe they think a post speaks for itself, maybe they don't want to interact with anyone on here and the site is merely a timewaster when they're trying to pass some time while they're commuting. Lots of scenarios.

tl;dr It's largely become a part of the tumblr's culture, whether that's right or wrong.

i had a bad day yesterday and yeah, here’s our grumpy emma with her bunker’s uniform : )

( i love this outfit the most lol i draw her with shirts and white ribbon all the time )

the context of this is emma after her argument with norman and she somehow bit into her lips which caused a small , little tiny wound 😛 i added blush just for fun , maybe she was really mad??? i drew this at 3am this morning so lolll please understand that i just want to draw emma because i’m really really sad and i couldn’t sleep at all, there’s no deep meaning behind.

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quick ranting (?) , i see that i get lots of reblogs (thank you so so much i spent lots of time reading them), and funny thing is that you guys always use hashtags for your comments 😆 i dunno why would y’all do that since every time i reblog someone’s blog , i don’t use hashtags to comment. i actually replied to some of you guy’s reblogs comments and tag y’all but no one replied so maybe that’s a feature in tumblr to comment by hashtags ??? lol anyway please have a good day , i just want to yap 🥺

[randomshyperson]

I'll Keep You Warm - Wanda Maximoff Oneshots

summary: During a mission, Wanda needs to keep warm, and there's no one better suited for the job than a demigod with fire powers.

words: 2.701k | warnings: this is not explicit at all but there's undressing and some innuendos, actually super fluff, friends (rivals) with mutual pining, attempt at humor (sometimes I think I'm funny), takes place after civil war, reader actually have the same personality as johnny storm because he's the only fire powered character I could think of while writing.

A/N-> Honestly, this was entirely based on the scene of Jacob warming up Bella in Twilight. It was requested as a challenge by @abimess about three years ago, and it's finally here. Never stop believing your request will see the light of the day guys (does this expression exist in English as well?)

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad |

-&-

Stake out missions are always a pain, but there's a code among the Avengers, and that's why instead of relaxing on some paradise island, you're in Siberia, collecting evidence for Natasha Romanoff.

To be fair, this was more of a favor to Nat than an Avengers duty, since the team was currently on a political tightrope, with half the people here and half somewhere else, with government contracts between them and councils all over the world. In the midst of all this mess, Natasha had discovered that the Red Room was not only operational, but also had a hundred thousand widows out there. The operation to locate and rescue these women was understaffed, and well, that's how you ended up in the Siberian winter with a grumpy witch and a synthezoid.

It turns out that the revelation that the Red Room was still operating was the exact kind of argument that the Avengers could use to exist, only super spies like Nat or Clint could find the widows, and well, only people like you, and the other Avengers could deal with that kind of power and influence. So while Natasha took care of the bureaucratic part, you and the others helped with everything else.

Stark and Cap were somewhere in Peru, and you envied a little the reconnaissance pictures that Tony sent to the group that contained the most beautiful tourist landscapes he visited with the justification of 'you never know where a black widow might be hiding' while you froze your ass with the people who liked you the least on the team.

Well, Vision didn't like you. In the same quantity as you hated him.

Wanda is a special case. You like to annoy her because she's really cute when she's mad, and she, although she's probably the most powerful person on the team and has full capacity to do so, has never put a definitive end to any of your torments towards her.

It was more of a game of teasing and friendly rivalry than mutual hatred.

The only thing you really disagreed on was the strange relationship she had with Vision, which always made you cross some line and say something stupid that would make her angry for weeks.

And it was also the reason you had offered to keep watch in the snow outside the hideout, while the two of them were safe and warm inside.

But only a few hours into the mission - Steve had already confirmed his status, as had Sam, who was in France, also having a great time as a tourist - when your slumber was interrupted by the sudden appearance of Vision, making you jump a little from the wooden chair.

"I wasn't sleeping!" You exclaimed immediately, to which the robot only sighed in reprimand, without comment. As you adjusted your posture and forced the sleep away, he stepped away from the canvas of the tent he had just crossed and cleared his throat.

"I require your assistance, Miss L/N." He begins, making you look at him in surprise.

The formal way Vision speaks always seems strange to you. You laugh shortly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Do you now, huh?"

That damn proud robot doesn't lose his composure under your irony. 

"As you may have noticed, the temperature has dropped considerably." 

You hum at his words, shrugging.  "I didn't, actually. Perks of being a demigod, I guess."

Vision sighs impatiently. "Well, the human in the group is cold." He explains grumpily, and you laugh in confusion.

"Sorry, I thought you were the one taking care of that, microwave." You retort, remembering well how Wanda, who must have been wearing three different coats the last time you two talked, grumbled the whole way about the snow, and how Vision seemed so pleased with himself when he offered to keep her warm with the heating function of his metal body.

So it was strange to see him standing there, begrudgingly asking for help.

"I was." He grumbles. "But my body... well, it overheated. I can't keep it that high heat for too long without damaging myself. Unlike you, of course. So I thought-"

"That I would save the day?" You interrupt, feigning some disinterest and then sighing. "Well, I don't know, I don't feel like a hero tonight." You sigh again, glazing him through the corner of your eye. "Maybe if you say please."

He chuckles incredulously. "You want me to beg you to save a teammate's life?" He retorts indignantly. "Maybe I should just report on your attitude. I'm sure Miss Romanoff will be happy to know what we've been wasting our energy on instead of the mission. Ridiculous arguments and-"

You burst out laughing, gesturing. "Dude, you need to lighten up. I'm obviously joking." You cut him off, standing up. "Take my watch. I'll keep your girlfriend warm."

If Vision could blush with anger, he probably would. He huffs, giving you room to get inside the tent.

"Just so you know, Miss Maximoff and I don't have that kind of relationship," he grudgingly clarifies, and you almost get the impression that this is something Wanda has asked him to do whenever someone - you - assumes differently.

You laugh, irony dripping onto your tongue as you retort, "I'm so sorry to hear that." And you imitate the sounds of fireworks and cheering, escaping a push from Vision to slip into the tent.

Even with your powers, it was easy to see how cold and damp it was in there. The tent, while spacious, didn't have much ability to accumulate heat from the fire pit outside or the small wood heater in the corner of the room, and almost all of your attitude disappeared when you caught a glimpse of the shivering figure on the camping mat.

Almost.

"Fear no more, Maximoff, your knight in shining armor is here." You teased, earning a small laugh from her.

Wanda adjusted herself to make room for you on the mattress. "Shut up, and get over here already."

Despite moving immediately, you retort, “Bossy,” which only makes her hide a smile against the pillow.

It should have been awkward, cuddling with a teammate, but as you adjusted and hugged her, it was only hard to ignore how Wanda seemed to have been molded for you. She fit perfectly against your body, and you tried not to blush at the sigh of relief she let out as she snuggled into your warmth.

“Thank you.” She sighed, eyes closed, hands moving inside your jacket. 

Your arms were around her, legs intertwined beneath the blanket that was no longer needed, and you didn’t trust your voice much to say more than a hoarse:  “Don’t mention it.”

A moment of silence passes, and then another. Your thoughts wander between Wanda, the Avengers, and what Natasha would say about how you’ve chosen to spend your time. Maybe Vis is right, and you’ve wasted enough moments that being used as a human heater is your only way to keep Wanda close. Maybe it’s too late to be anything else.

The silence stretches longer, and you almost think Wanda has fallen asleep, and you’re almost considering doing the same, when she groans.

“You’re being loud.”

Opening your mouth to defend yourself because you’re sure you haven’t said a word in the last few minutes, you shut yourself up before you do, as you realize the telepath snuggled against your chest was surely talking about another kind of noise. You snort lightly, folding your arms behind your head. The lack, even a little, of the warmth of one of them on her shoulders makes her groan in protest.

“If you weren’t nosy, you wouldn’t hear a thing.”

You snap back rudely, but Wanda chuckles, quite comfortable moving one of her hands inside your shirt. Your skin is considerably warmer without a fabric between you two, and it makes her hum in satisfaction.

"Yes, that's better." She whispers sleepily, hiding her face in the crook of your neck. The position becomes less and less platonic with each adjustment Wanda makes, but you would never complain.

You try to relax with so much contact - it's especially difficult now that you can smell Wanda's shampoo so directly, almost intoxicating all your senses with it. - And you're almost getting used to the sensation, when she grumbles dissatisfied.

"Why am I still cold?" There's a soft scratch of her nails against your lower back that makes you clear your throat and think of anything other than the sensation, in scenarios very different from this one.

You consider mumbling something about it being too cold outside for her to warm up in five minutes, and telling her to stop moving and wait a bit, but Wanda tries to repeat the skin-to-skin idea from before by adjusting herself so that she's practically all over you, both hands under your shirt. And that makes you jump in fright.

"Wow, slow down there, tigress." You scoff, really embarrassed now, and Wanda raises an eyebrow at the color in your cheeks - which increases considerably when she sits against your hips, hovering over you.

She looks at you with some curiosity, a smile playing on her lips. You have the impression that her eyes glow red for a second before she retorts:

"Don't act like this isn't your dream come true." She teases, half-joking and half-serious, you can only swallow hard as you stare into her eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about." You retort, well aware that a quick peek into your mind would tell Wanda that you know exactly what she's talking about.

But despite her skills, she's either too tired or too cold to do nothing more than let out a short laugh and roll her eyes.

"Can you stop thinking about dirty things for a second and help me out?" She grumbles, and you'll probably agree with anything this woman says while she's on top of you. She starts to take off her sweatshirt, and you forget how to breathe. Your expression brings a blush to her cheeks, but she doesn't lose her composure. "Stop it."

Yep, she can definitely hear your thoughts.

You clear your throat, adjusting yourself to cover your face with your arm, and block that sinful image before you.

"You stop." Is your answering grunt, to which Wanda gives a tense chuckle. "What the hell is this now? Undressing on my lap."

Wanda, who has already discarded all her sweaters on the floor, rolls her eyes. You're not looking, but she seems to be having a great time.

"You don't pay attention to anything, do you?" She retorts, and sighs to herself when she realizes that with all the movement, she now can see part of your abs exposed by the shirt. The anatomy of the gods was something really unfair and hard to ignore and Wanda is grateful that you are covering your eyes, because she can hide her own reaction from you.

"I pay attention to too many things if you ask me." You mumble, but Wanda ignores your answer, busy removing her shirt. With a sports bra being the only thing covering her torso now, she moves her hands to the edge of your jacket. With the gentle tug, you startle again, and stare at her in shock when you realize her lack of clothes. "F-for Odin, what the hell-"

"I need skin-to-skin warmth, you perv." She retorts firmly, even though her face is burning. You stammer in amazement, unable to look away from the cleavage in front of you—which is too close when Wanda pushes your jacket off. “You didn’t pay attention in any of those survival classes they organized for us, did you?” She insists on making conversation, but you’re mumbling sincerely:

“I don’t think I’d know my name right now if you asked me.” Wanda chuckles, rolling her eyes. Your jacket falls down your back, and she reaches for the hem of your shirt. 

“Take it off.” 

“Won't even take me to dinner first, Maximoff?” You scoff, even though you’re complying. Wanda loses a bit of confidence at your exposure, clearing her throat when she realizes she’s staring.

She ignores her own reaction, looking away as she explains; “You probably don’t understand this because you’re not entirely human, but it’s really cold right now. I just need a little more warmth.” 

You smile at her, moving your hands to her hips, making Wanda sigh as you start to play with the knot of her sweatpants. “Are you really going to take it all off, Maximoff? I knew you were hardcore, but damn…” 

She groans in embarrassment, for the first time that night. Covering her face with her hands, you laugh at the sight. “This would be so much easier if you didn’t keep thinking the things you’re thinking.” She mutters. “It’s so annoying.” 

You laugh, tugging at the knot so it comes loose. The slight slack in her sweatpants that allows you to see more of her hips makes you sigh. “Well, I’m still fifty percent human. No one is ironclad against a pretty girl on their lap. Oh, wait, your boyfriend is.”

Wanda takes her hands away from her face to hold your wrists away from her hips but still in your lap. "Vision isn't my boyfriend." 

You narrow your eyes at her suspiciously. "But he's something." She hesitates, letting go of your wrists. 

"Yeah, just like you are." She murmurs, taking you by surprise. She sighs then, adjusting her hair. "Friends, roommates, teammates. It doesn't matter what you call it."

You smile. "How about... personal heater?"

She laughs, shaking her head. "Shut up and take off your pants."

Despite the raised eyebrow, you don't say anything else. There's a pull apart, so that the two of you can strip down to your underwear. You do that fairly quickly, because even with your powers, you can feel how cold Wanda's skin is now.

But once you're settled under the covers again, Wanda can breathe a sigh of relief. She resists the urge to dig her nails into your back, feeling your body covering hers, and now skin to skin, the temperature rises much more quickly.

You’re also kind enough to emit more heat, and Wanda can’t resist hiding her face against your neck when your arms wrap around her completely. 

It’s a very tender moment between you. Wanda doesn’t want to think about how vulnerable she is, trusting you completely to keep her alive. And she also doesn’t want to think about how much better this feels than anything she’s ever felt. The safety inside your arms leaves her breathless. Suddenly, she finds herself asking; “Did you really mean all the things you were thinking?” 

You laugh shortly, your fingers moving to caress her hair and Wanda can’t help the gasp that escapes her lips at the sensation. “I don’t want to have this conversation while you’re having a hypothermia episode, Maximoff.” 

“I’m not—” 

“I paid attention in survival classes.” You interrupt her. "One of the most common signs of hypothermia is confusion, and one of the desperate actions people tend to have is to remove all clothing. You're lucky I can warm you up so quickly."  She says nothing to that, finally realizing that she's stopped shivering, and her thoughts are much clearer than before. She's no longer desperate to get warm, because she's not cold at all now. Wanda is ready to thank you, when you add, "Of course, there are still ways to warm you up even more..."

You move your head, and playfully bite her cheek, making her squirm with laughter before pinching you on the corners. You're still laughing when she turns inside your embrace, pouting but not pulling away from you.

With your arms firmly around her, you adjust your mouth to her ear.

“Go to sleep, you need to.” You whisper, smiling at the way she tries to hide her body’s reactions from you. “I’ll keep you warm through the night.”

She reaches out to intertwine her hand with yours, and rest it on top of her stomach. When you two finally fall asleep, you have matching smiles on your faces.

[owuwi]

ALTERNATE WORLD

POWDER.ᐟ

summary: in the midst of perfection, your responsibilities still nag at the back of your mind.

pairings: au!powder x ogtimeline!reader

warnings: a bit of angst, fluff, not really a warning but fem!reader, reader is in ekko's position, mentions of jinx x fem!reader.

2.8k words

Perhaps, being selfish wasn't as bad as people said.

Maybe, just for once, putting yourself first wasn't going to cause the end of the world.

Those are the words that have been constantly running through your mind for these past few days, these days you've spent with Powder.

This wasn't your Powder, though, you were pretty aware of that —the universe didn't like you enough to allow you be that happy—, yet that didn't stop you from enjoying everything. You deserved it, right? You deserved to experience this level of contentment, of peace, at least once in your life.

Honestly, you were still a bit confused about your relationship with the blue-haired girl. There was a thick, tangible tension between the two of you but she hasn't actually initiated anything romantic —except for clinging onto you, if that counts—. She was quite flirty, that was sure, and it ignited something deep inside you whenever she behaved in that manner. Knowing that this is what you could've had... it brought you such sadness and even envy.

Despite everything, there was still a small part of you that knew this was wrong; a responsible voice reminding you of your true fate. You weren't meant to be here —let alone stay here— and that righteous side of you wanted to leave it very clear.

Goodness, the only thing you wanted was to know what the hell was wrong with your tree.

And now? Now you had to leave paradise to go back to hell.

Apparently, it was usual for you —this universe's version of yourself— to sleep over at Powder's place, so you've been doing that for these past few days. Seeing Vander and Silco so... together was definitely something you weren't going to get used to, but they were truly so loving that it made you forget they were once enemies.

You woke up earlier than the younger girl and headed down to her hideout —workplace— in a miserable attempt of isolating yourself for a bit and simply think, think about how to build something that could take you home. You actually already knew what to do but you were trying to slow down the process of building it as much as possible, also trying to keep Heimerdinger out of this for as long as you could —since it would take the professor like, a day to find a way of creating such a device—.

You were so deep in your own little world, carefully drawing the hextech anomaly that brought you here while enjoying the comfort the big space provided, that you weren't aware of Powder coming down to where you were until you felt a pair of soft arms wrapping around your neck —the sudden contact immediately causing you to flinch. "Morning, jumpy." She playfully greeted you, adding more emphasis on the nickname after observing your reaction, a little chuckle then slipping past her lips in amusement.

"Hey there, i uh—... didn't hear you." You greeted her as well —and vaguely explained the reason for your sharp movement— before also letting out a chuckle, though it clearly sounded less natural than the girl's. Even with the butterflies that fluttered on your stomach each time Powder was near you, you still couldn't help but to initially freak out whenever you laid your eyes on her.

"Oh yeah, i totally realized that." She quickly said, her voice dripping with an affectionate sarcasm, as she slowly ran her fingers through your hair. Her tender action quickly sent a shiver down your spine, unconsciously leaning into the warmth of her touch. "Wow... that's a cool drawing." She broke the silence some moments later, moving her fingers away from your hair to delicately trace her fingertips along the messy lines of the drawing —a faint 'thank you' leaving your lips at her compliment.

"You woke up earlier just to draw, huh? You sure are a real mystery." She later commented in that same playful tone of voice, gently resting her chin on the top of your head as her eyes continued scanning over the drawing. You were about to say something until the sound of a soft yawn coming from the girl interrupted you.

You could tell she was still sleepy by the slight slurring in her words and by the way she was basically slumped against your back. It brought a genuine smile to your face, a faint blush spreading across the skin of your cheeks as you noticed how intimate this moment felt. "I wasn't tired anymore so i came down here, wanted to—... clear my mind a bit." You told her, closing your eyes at the feeling of her fingertips slowly sliding up your arms —goosebumps erupting all over your skin—. "Why don't you go back to bed? You seem tired.." You then added before opening your eyes, not even noticing the domesticity in your words.

Powder did notice, though.

She let out a humming sound —clearly thinking about your suggestion— while her digits continued roaming along your smooth skin. "Mhm... only if you come back with me." She replied some moments later, her voice a low whisper tickling your ear. The blue-eyed girl knew you perfectly, knew what made you react, what you liked and what you didn't, and she knew how to use that piece of information to her advantage.

Oh yeah, you two were definitely dating.

It was kinda obvious but you were just... hoping you two were really good friends. You truly got everything you once wanted in this universe —the realization of how good your life was here brought you so many mixed feelings. How wrong would it be to stay here? For starters, how wrong was it to think like this? You had your own stuff to do back at home —especially now when things were so tense—, you couldn't abandon your people and stay, right?

No... you couldn't abandon Jinx, she was your Powder, despite everything. Despite all the crimes she's committed, all the horrors she's made, she was still your best friend and the girl you fell in love with. This... this wasn't real, it was just a 'what if', you needed to go back and make things right —even if it wasn't your job to fix everything, you still needed to try—.

The girl behind you snapped her fingers in front of your face, causing you to stop daydreaming and come back to reality. "Hey, space girl! I'm not talking to myself over here." She told you, her tone humorous yet honest, clearly not enjoying the way you were ignoring her.

"Sorry! I uh...—was just thinking." You quickly apologized, letting out a sigh before rubbing your face —unconsciously staining your cheek with the dark ink you had on your hands thanks to the messy drawing you were previously working on—. Powder moved away from your back and instead sat down on the other stool, looking at you with both affection and worry. "Yeah, seems like you've been doing that a lot these days.." She mumbled, discretely pointing out your odd behavior of the past few days.

She then gently reached out to wipe away the pigment from your skin, her touch lingering on your cheek for way longer than needed. "What's on your mind?" The girl asked you quietly, cupping your cheek and holding the side of your face with such delicacy it almost brought you to tears. Whenever she held you, she always did it as if you were made of glass —scared of breaking you.

"I want to build something new. For the competition." You revealed some moments later, looking at her with uncertainty as you feel her touch faltering after hearing what you said. According to Heimerdinger, you sought Powder's help a couple of months ago for the Young Innovators Competition and she gladly decided to assist you, and the two of you have been working like crazy ever since.

And now, you had the blue-haired girl looking at you as if you were crazy. Could you blame her? Probably not. Apparently, Powder had been by your side —working— 24/7 on the project, so the fact that you were telling her you wanted to do a whole new different thing was mind-blowing for her. "Wait, what? Why?" She immediately questioned you, moving her hand away from your cheek as a frown formed on her lips.

"I uh—... it's not entirely new. We can use what we already have built." You hesitantly began explaining, your eyes looking everywhere expect at the girl in front of you. How were you supposed to tell her you wanted to travel to another dimension? She'd definitely call you crazy. "I've been doing some research and i—." You continued, flipping the pages of your sketchbook to show her the ruins and maths, though it didn't take Powder long before she cut you off.

"Hold on, we've been working on this for months, and now you want to change it? We don't have much time anymore." She complained, her tone growing frustrated and even mad —despite the change in her voice not being entirely hearable, you noticed it—. She let out a faint scoff and looked away from you, taking a deep breath before continuing. "You were so excited with this project... what changed?" She then asked you in a much softer tone of voice, giving you a look of concern.

You stayed quiet for some moments, feeling yourself getting lost in those gorgeous blue eyes of hers. Not only were you playing with yourself but you were also playing with her, creating memories this universe's version of yourself won't remember once you go back to your own world. "I uh—..." You started your sentence yet couldn't finish it, looking at her with such affection and love —though it wasn't actually the right moment to drool over her—.

"I think i found a way to travel to other dimensions." You simply stated, not even noticing how blunt your words came out thanks to how distracted you were —captivated by her beauty. You then managed to snap yourself out of the trace she induced you in, a silly and almost dumb smile slowly forming on your lips as you looked at her. "I think it's worth giving it a try..." You added, sliding your sketchbook across the surface and allowing the girl to take a look at the process you've done.

It was now her time to stay quiet, looking at you with disbelief. Silence reigned on the space; the faint whirring of the colorful lightbulbs and your breathings being the only sounds listenable. She took your book in her hands and started analyzing its content, her eyebrows lightly furrowing as she did so. "How do you just—... find a way to do that?" She asked you, her voice now playful and humorous once again. The frown and concern on her face was now replaced with a look of amazedness.

"You know me, i'm a genius." You said in reply to her question before laughing and then bitting down on your bottom lip, no longer feeling the need of hiding your true personality. It definitely wasn't good to be getting so comfortable but, right now, you truly didn't care.

Powder simply let out a little laugh at your comment, a bright smile forming on her lips as she looked up from the sketchbook and back at you again. "I'm not sure about the genius part but i'll admit, it's pretty amazing..." She opined before standing up from the stool and taking a step closer to you, cupping your face with both hands. "Do you seriously think it'll work, though?" She unsurely queried, wanting to know if you were actually serious about this whole thing.

Powder knew you weren't the type to joke about this type of stuff but come on, finding a way of traveling to other dimensions? No one has ever made such discovery yet, so how on earth did you managed to find this? Was this the reason you've been acting so different? Many questions started bubbling inside of her, questions she felt weird thinking about. What was going on with her? Was she... distrusting you? She couldn't be! She's known you her entire life! You were her girl and you were smart, she should be feeling proud you made such a discovery!

Your voice pulled her out of her thoughts and she couldn't help but to feel relieved, not wanting to think like that of you. "Yeah, i do. I already consulted a friend about this and he thinks it's possible." You answered, placing your hand on top of hers —keeping her palm pressed against your cheek— and then leaning into her touch. The feeling of your skin against hers brought peace to her head, those conceptualizations fading away immediately.

"What do you think about it?" You then asked the younger girl while slowly —almost nervously— rising your other hand and gently placing it on her hip. Powder barely reacted to your touch, meaning that she was used to you doing this —more proof of the two of you being a couple. "Well it's definitely amazing but i think it's dumb to start with it now, because it will definitely not be ready for the competition." She stated. Despite how serious she sounded, a small grin started to appear on her face.

"But you are quite dumb so i'm not entirely surprised." She quickly added, letting out a little laugh before suddenly sitting down on your lap. The girl wrapped her arms around your neck and softly started playing with the baby hairs on your nape, twirling them between her fingers. "Which is why i suppose i could help you..." She completed, her voice tender yet teasing, as she gets more comfortable on your lap.

"How nice of you." You said, playing along with her little game before placing both of your hands on her hips —with a little bit more of confidence this time—, looking at her like she just hung the moon and stars. She noticed your staring and gently pushed your shoulder in a miserable attempt of hiding how flustered you were making her feel without even doing anything. "Whatever..." She mumbled, placing one of her hands on the base of your neck and then delicately caressing the skin over your pulse point.

"Now, let's go back to my room." With that —quite suddenly— said, Powder got off your lap and grabbed your hands, making you stand up and guiding you towards the bridge that lead to the stairs —not really giving you a choice. You simply threw your sketchbook across the cluttered, circular surface —accidentally throwing a blueprint onto the floor in consequence— and followed her. "We'll talk about it in bed, yeah?" She exclaimed.

You two walked up the stairs and headed towards the girl's room quietly, not wanting to make too much noise and accidentally wake up her dads. She immediately closed the door the moment you two entered the room and then rushed to her comfortable bed, a chuckle leaving your lips at the sight of Powder basically burying herself beneath the blankets. "What are you waiting for, you doofus?" A faint, muffled voice asked you, her tone sounding almost offended thanks to how long you were taking to lay beside her.

"Can't i admire the view anymore?" You asked her back before laughing softly and then walking over to the bed, taking your shoes off before finally lying down on the mattress. It didn't take the girl long before she basically jumped on top of you, hiding her face in the warmness of the crook of your neck and wrapping her arms around your torso. "Mhm..." She simply hummed, snuggling against your tender skin.

It was obvious that you two weren't going to talk about your new project but that didn't matter right now, all that mattered was the feeling of her small body on top of yours. You nuzzled against the top of her head, taking in the scent of her blue hair, as you slid your hands under her shirt to caress the soft skin of her back. "Sleep..." You mumbled, enjoying every single second of this moment.

You didn't need to tell Powder twice, especially not when she was so tired and was lying on top of you. "I love you..." She muttered out some seconds later, moving her head away from your neck. She placed her hands on your cheeks and merely stared at you for a moment, smiling once again as she admired you. She then leaned down to place a slow, delicate kiss on your lips, her fingers mindlessly tracing patterns on your skin.

Gods.

It took you some time to kiss her back —a good second or two—, your body freezing with the suddenness of her words and movements. Despite your initial shock, fireworks exploded inside of you the moment you processed what was happening, causing you to smile against her lips as you closed your eyes and finally kissed her back. "Love you too... so much.." You said the moment the kiss broke, keeping your eyes closed before chuckling.

In this moment, you belonged here.

Right now, you had all you ever wanted.

So, was it so inhumane to be selfish?

[sovamurka]

my brain goes brrrrrrrr after so few hours of sleep BUT you won't believe how much timebomb content I just got

Fractured Jinx voice lines?

CRAZY. all three versions of Jinx talk to him differently and yet all three share one trait - they care. A LOT. she cares and has certain feelings towards him that she can't really put into words that well. she's not at all antagonistic towards him, even when she taunts him.

These ones break my heart honestly because they're not said mockingly. There is no malice, or joke. They're said with exasperation and sadness. She especially can't bear the way he looks at her (you should hear it yourself honestly).

Jinx ruins fixes everything?

THEY SHOWED US THE FIRELIGHT TREE. It seems like it happened a little bit after they sincerely talked with each other. Ekko showed her his little paradise and it's the first time we see so much light in this game. The entire place is so warm even Jinx herself warms up, she's is both calm and excited, she's... hopeful, actually. Ekko, what did you tell her? How did you console her? What kind of hug technique did you use to make her so hopeful?

Jinx assembled her final weapon (and named it Rhino) in Ekko's engineering room after exploring the room for spare details. She also finds a photo of Ekko and Benzo.

And when we explore the entire hideout... We encounter their circle bike that they build and upgraded together (yes, the one we saw when we explored Benzo's shop in Wild Rift, yes, the one that only he and Powder could use because Ekko did not allow anyone else to use it).

And oh... Did you know that she still can't forget the way he looked at her on the bridge? And that she never will?

This one obliterated me, actually.

[yzegem]

Giants, seafood, fruit and sunny beaches... this really might be heaven.

Introducing another creature to the setting of Encounters in the Frontier: the giants.

For their redesign I adapted the concept of insular gigantism to a close ancestor of humans.

Giants live in an island close to the southwestern coast of Alwaysummer. They inhabit a giant dormant volcano whose crater now delimits a shallow lagoon.

Giants are adapted to catch mollusks, sea urchins, octopusses and sea cumbers by striding over the lagoon to locate them and then catching them with their dexterous hands. They also complement their diet with fruits they can easily access from the tallest trees.

Giants live slow and long lives and show very little tool usage besides smashing rocks to open shells and coconuts. Still, they have complex social structured, usually consisting of a dominant male and many females and their children. Males engage in screaming singing competitions for dominance and younger males might do this playfully.

Males grow long beards and braid it and poke branches or sea urchin spikes into it as decoration.

They also smell pretty bad.

The discovery of the isle of Titans took place during an expedition sent by the Sun Empire to discover if Alwaysummer had an end to the south and to set and man trading outposts in this region.

This expedition was manned mainly with people from the plateau. In the creation myth of these people, earth used to be a warm and fertile heaven and all people were colossal and child like, but humanity was punnished with a great flood and made small and vulnerable.

When the crew members discovered this islands and the giants, they started to believe that it was the mythical last remnant of paradise and that the giants were the spirits of their legendary heroes and ancestors. (I'm sure this won't eventually turn into a rebellious cult...)

Giants are generally gentle to humans, since to them, they are child like (it's not that they think that adult humans are baby giants, but they find humans cute like we would find a small dog cute). Even though giants are sacred of fire, they did enjoy the taste of cooked food, so it started being common for them to bring food to the humans so that they could cook it (and keep some for themselves).

Male giants started doing favors to the crew members such as reaching fruits and helping them build by moving heavy objects in exchange for getting their long beards groom and braided into intricate styles by the small and precise hands of the humans.

Giants also found the songs and instruments these humans played to be soothing and would stand in the sea at night next to were the humans were playing to hear their music.

Still, most of the times both species stuck to themselves, with the humans building the outpost and having an epiphany and the giants fishing as usual and watching their new neighbours from a distance.

Even though their interactions have been peaceful and even wholesome at the moments, some abandoned shipwrecks and pirate hideouts scattered in the island with no signs of their inhabitants remind the crew members of the island's potential hostility.

Here is a quick evolutionary tree I did of the spec-evo primates of the setting:

[zeroseuniverse]

Safety Blanket

Word Count: 1.2K Summary: "You’re right. I can't resist. This is... incredible." Hoshi let out a dramatic sigh of contentment, resting his head on the mound of pillows. "I told you. It’s the ultimate self-care." Pairing: Hoshi X Fem Reader

Navigation

She walked into the living room, hoping to find her best friend, Hoshi, ready to hang out and do something productive. Instead, she was met with an unusual sight—an entire fortress of blankets piled high on the couch, with only a small gap near the edge for Hoshi's face to peek through.

She blinked. "Uh... are you okay?"

There was a muffled voice from within the blanket fortress. "I'll let you take one guess."

She raised an eyebrow, walking closer to the pile of fabric. "Hoshi, what... what happened? Did you get buried under here or something?"

A hand emerged from the side, flailing weakly in the air. "Nope! I'm just... embracing my inner potato today." The voice was muffled by the blankets, but she could tell Hoshi was grinning.

She couldn't help but laugh. "Inner potato, huh? Is that a new thing? Because it looks more like you’re hiding from the world."

Hoshi’s head popped out from the blanket cocoon, his messy hair sticking out like a haystack, eyes wide with determination. "It’s called self-care. You should try it sometime."

She squatted down next to the blanket mountain, peering into the small gap where Hoshi’s face was framed. "So, you’re just... hiding in there? Not doing anything productive? Not even thinking about lunch?"

Hoshi dramatically sighed and lay back into the mound of fabric. "Well, considering I spent the entire morning trying to perfect my dance routine for one move, which I still haven’t nailed, I decided it was time for a retreat. You can only fail so many times before you need an emotional support blanket."

She leaned back and crossed her arms, trying to suppress a laugh. "So, you’re giving up on dancing?"

Hoshi shot her a look, his face partially visible beneath the blankets. "I’m not giving up. I’m just... recharging my spirit with the power of blankets. You can't underestimate the healing properties of a cozy fortress." He adjusted his position, fluffed his pillow, and let out a deep sigh of satisfaction. "Okay, I might be a little bit giving up. But at least I’m comfortable."

She rolled her eyes, but there was something endearing about his dramatic behavior. "What happened to the guy who wanted to become the world’s best dancer?"

Hoshi’s head popped up again, and he gave her a serious look, his blanket cocoon shifting with the motion. "He got temporarily replaced by a potato. It’s a phase."

She chuckled. "Alright, well, if you want to embrace your potato self, I guess I’ll leave you to it. But the world’s best dancer doesn’t get to hide forever, you know."

Hoshi’s eyes sparkled mischievously. "That’s why I’m training to become the world’s best blanket ninja right now. It’s all part of the plan."

She shook her head in mock disbelief. "You’re ridiculous."

Hoshi grinned, sinking further into his blankets with a dramatic flair. "Thank you. It’s an art form, really."

She let out a sigh, still smiling. "Well, enjoy your blanket paradise, Potato Hoshi. Let me know if you need anything. Like, I don’t know, a snack or a wake-up call when your blanket fortress collapses."

Hoshi’s muffled voice came from beneath the pile, far too calm. "I’m already preparing my escape plan. Just give me a few hours. Maybe days."

She laughed. "Alright, take your time, Potato Hoshi. Just... don’t forget about the world outside your blanket fortress."

Hoshi, from the depths of his blanket hideout, gave a triumphant thumbs-up. "World? What world?"

And with that, she left him to his blankets, knowing full well he’d emerge sooner or later, probably with a new ridiculous story to tell. After all, this was Hoshi—a potato by day, dancer by night.

She had left Hoshi to his blanket cocoon for a good while, but curiosity—and an undeniable sense of comfort—pulled her back. As she peeked around the corner, she saw him still hidden beneath the layers of fabric, looking like a human burrito, only his eyes visible. He was definitely not planning on leaving anytime soon.

She hesitated for a moment, but then the mischievous side of her took over. She wasn't going to let him have all the fun. Without saying a word, she casually walked over to the fortress and, in one swift move, pulled a corner of the blankets back and slipped underneath.

Hoshi, who had been staring at his phone with a half-interested gaze, blinked in surprise as she crawled in beside him, her face emerging from the same gap he'd been peering through.

"What are you doing?" Hoshi asked, his voice half-amused, half-confused.

She gave him a grin, her hair slightly tangled from the blanket’s cozy chaos. "Joining you, obviously. I can't let you have all the potato glory to yourself."

Hoshi’s face lit up, and a playful laugh bubbled out of him. "So, you’ve decided to embrace your inner potato as well? Welcome to the club."

She snuggled into the pile of blankets, enjoying the soft warmth around her. "You’re right. I can't resist. This is... incredible."

Hoshi let out a dramatic sigh of contentment, resting his head on the mound of pillows. "I told you. It’s the ultimate self-care."

She laid beside him, mimicking his posture. They both stared at the ceiling for a few moments, cocooned in silence. The outside world—work, obligations, the chaos of life—seemed a million miles away.

"How long do you think we can stay here?" she asked lazily, her voice muffled by the blankets.

Hoshi raised his hand as if he were about to give a speech. "As long as we need. The world outside does not exist in Blanket land."

She chuckled, nudging him lightly. "You’re ridiculous."

"I’m serious!" Hoshi replied dramatically. "I’m at peace with the universe right now. No distractions. No responsibilities. Just blankets and—" He paused dramatically, looking at her. "—you. My fellow blanket warrior."

She smiled. "I never thought I’d be hiding from the world inside a blanket fort, but... I think I get it now. This is the best idea you’ve ever had."

Hoshi grinned, satisfied with his self-proclaimed genius. "Told ya! It's the ultimate fortress of tranquility."

She rolled onto her side, facing him. "What do we do now? Should we come up with a plan to conquer the world, or just nap for the rest of the day?"

Hoshi tapped his finger to his chin, deep in thought. "Hmm, I think I’m going with Plan B: nap first, conquer the world later. This blanket fortress has taken a lot out of me."

She laughed and settled her head onto a pillow. "Sounds good to me. I’ve got absolutely no plans anyway."

The two of them lay there for a while, wrapped in warmth and comfort, talking about everything and nothing. No deadlines, no pressures, just the soft hum of the world outside, barely reaching them beneath their blanket fortress.

And as they both drifted into a peaceful nap, She couldn’t help but feel that this was exactly what they both needed. After all, sometimes the best adventures were the ones where you simply stayed still.

"Hey, Hoshi," She whispered sleepily, "I think this might be my new favorite thing."

Hoshi let out a contented sigh, his voice barely a whisper. "I told you. The Potato Club is the best club."

She smiled, snuggling deeper into the cocoon. "Best club ever."

And so, in their blanket fortress, the world outside could wait.

[sugarpasteltmnt]

wow first of all THANK YOU SO MUCH to everyone who voted for my silly little story in the AU comp!! seriously you all are so wonderful and sweet and i'm just so happy to be in the comp period 😭🩵

as a big thanks i wanted to tell ya'll i'm working on the next chapter of 'Purgatory Paradise' ( • ̀ω•́ )✧ i'll try my best to have it out within the next week!! (`･ω･´)ゞ here's a sneak peak:

in the meantime, please enjoy this list of some of the references and easter eggs i had put in 'The Neon Void' while writing it! (hehe how many did YOU spot while reading?)

[warning; spoilers ahoy! avoid reading if you haven't finish TNV yet!]

here's a rough list of some of the references I snuck in or jokes i was quite proud of when writing 'The Neon Void' haha!

Houdini 

● silly reference to ‘ooze’ hehe (not so much of an easter egg but more of a bad joke lol)  ● “…What in sweet Marie Curie’s name was that about?” – Marie Curie was a physicist who studied radioactivity, and her research ultimately was used in the creation of the atomic bomb, which uses nuclear fission (aka, atoms splitting apart) (lol get foreshadowed, nerds.) 

The Shrine 

● The Jupiter Jim issue number 84 is a reference to 1984, the year the TMNT comics first came out. 

Mosaic 

● Leo’s hideout is inspired by an episode in the 2003 TMNT, where the fam hides in a water tower when the lair is discovered by the Foot Clan. (And I believe a water tower comes into play in other TMNT iterations, but I wasn’t 1000% sure) 

Marigolds 

● The area where Mikey fights Leo and cuts off his arm is heavily inspired by some of the 2003 sewer layout scenes, with the giant atriums and criss-crossing skywalks over giant areas of water. I loved those designs and wanted to incorporate that. 

Ground Control 

● Another silly joke reference of ‘shellphones’ used in the 2012 series   ● “I doubt it was unimportant considering you made enough to feed the entire New York Dave’s team,” Donnie pressed. He picked up a butterfly, inspecting it, but Mikey knew that he was trying to get to the root of the cause, “What did he say?” – Homage to early concept art of Donnie, where he has a butterfly on his knuckle (look at this cutie)

(BTW i for the life of me CANNOT find the original tweet where this photo was so if you have it let me know!) 

Mad Dog: Haunted 

● Call-back to the Krang carcass you see for 0.2 seconds in the season finale inside of the Crying Titan, which I thought was a really neat detail. 

Strings

● The book excerpt Donnie reads is written by Professor Honeycutt, a referencing the 2003 Professor Honeycut who studied teleportation and invented the teleportal  ● ‘October 28, 20:20’ written on the sticky note Donnie looks at is a reference to the release date of ‘The Last Ronin’ (10/28/2020) ● ‘By Carl Sagan–! It worked! We’ve established contact–!’ – Carl Sagan lead the effort in the creation of the Golden Record aboard the Voyager spacecraft, whos purpose was to send a message to extraterrestrials who might find the spacecraft as it traveled through vast spans of space. Since Donnie was trying to reach Karai and the ancestors from what felt like an impossible distance, it felt fitting. 

Bed and Breakfast 

● ‘He groaned. His brain was pulsing painfully behind his eyes. His whole body was achy. Great Pythagoras, what happened?’ – Pythagoras was a Greek philosopher referred to as the ‘lover of wisdom’ and made numerous mathematical and scientific discoveries, and I felt like Donnie would just generally be a fanboy of him lol.  ● ‘Sweet Friedrich Sertürner was that blood–?!’ – while working on this chapter, i asked my best friend and beta reader for some inventors/scientist names to make into funny Donnie Swears. She suggested Friedrich Sertürner because he invented morphine which is used to treat pain… and she said 'would be funny...considering how much of it they were gonna need by the time things were said and done with the Key/Leo's infection.' (SHE WAS SO REAL FOR THAT LOL)   ● The ‘Void ducking in and out of doorways just to come out of a totally different door’ chase was 100000% a Scooby-doo reference, lol. It was one of my fav cartoons growing up and that gag felt very on-brand for Leo’s silly ‘Void’ persona and i’m a little proud of it hahaha 

The Deal 

“Neon Void was literally blasted into the air. All the while laughing merrily as he soared. He went crashing into a poor, unkept, unsuspecting billboard for the Super Slam Hockey Game that already happened over ten years ago.” – This is SO obscure but this is a reference to one of my favorite 2003 TMNT episodes, ‘The Golden Puck’. The episode is so peak 2000’s cartoon to me with its silly premise and I just loved it LOL. (Southern millionaire who hires sci-fi-technology cowboy bounty hunters to steal a sports trophy in the middle of New York city? Peak old cartoon synopsis.) 

Rap Battle 

● The first few lines of Leo’s freestyle rap are the 2012 TMNT opening theme lyrics 

Boop!

● Leo runs past a ‘Space Heroes' game cabinet– Space Heroes is a reference to the 2012 TMNT, which was the show that Leonardo was obsessed with 

Tag Part I: Sonic 

● Leo bounces off the back of the Sonic the Hedgehog balloon in the parade in reference to the fact that they share the same voice actor LOL Extra fun fact this entire fic was set in autumn/fall JUST to write this NICHE SCENE

I’m sure I missed a few I couldn't remember off the top of my head, but I had a lot of fun putting these little references and easter eggs in the story 🩵 TMNT itself always makes call-backs and references to it's other iterations, and i love love love that and wanted to try myself!

[yandere-sins]

So... Honkai Star Rail... have you met Dr. Ratio yet? I have literally seen him twice so far and he has my whole being in a vice grip. Man has either put me in direct danger or towered ominously over me and acted completely dismissive the entire time. I am not okay.

I have met him! (However brief that was because I'm not sure if there's more of him when you defeat the boss (and I struggle with the bosses because I don't build support characters, yes >-<)) I saw him and I knew this one is also going into my pathetic yandere shoebox with Argenti, and I wish I could see more of him because I so wanna get into his personality and yandere-fy him lol

All I can say is... since Argenti I am really into pathetic yans and Ratio just fits sooo good in that category.

Don't get me wrong, he probably started out pretty scary! He has that manipulative, confident, cocky attitude that will make everyone turn on you for being rude and conceited when you try to go against what he's preaching. He'll absolutely try to separate you from you friends and coworkers until he's that saint that still allows you to tag along with him. No one will really mind if one day he just doesn't bring you back to work. Keeps you snug and locked up and terrified in his private hideouts, enjoying that he gets to lord over you. He'll be so enarmored with the thought you now need him, you can't say anything against him, Ratio is the one you have to submit to if you want to survive in the paradise he's creating for himself.

The towering over you probably happens a lot (at night as he watches you sleep and trying to understand you) because he wants so desperately to be acknowledged by you, not even caring if it means he has to be creepy or a stalker watching the camera feed of your room. And when you don't do what he wants you to, he tries, he really tries to ignore you, lock you up and leave the whole planet if he must, but his thoughts are always circling back to you, his heart always wondering what you're doing and if you are lonely and thinking of him.

But the thing is, the situation is scary and all, but he's not exactly an example punisher from the beginning.

So yeah, I see him to a 180 after he has aquired a darling, no more pondering about science or math (I don't even know yet what exactly he is into even) but about how to make his darling like him because they really don't. Darling is just sitting their reading their book, throwing in a "mhm" - "yeah" - "sure" while he's talking, and Ratio is getting really desperate over the lack of acknowledgement and the kind of connection he wants with his darling. It's his own fault, considering he completely ignored all the reasoning and pleading you did in the beginning. And when there weren't as many awful punishments, you just grew numb to the fear of his presence.

I can just see him throw a damn fit about his darling ignoring him. Either in their presence or out of their sight, but this man hates hates hates not being in the center of his darling's attention when he demands it and he's being really pathetic about it.

The problem is just that he really expects too much from his darling. He'll be good and feed them and give them books (reluctantly even one that the darling wants and not only the other five he wants them to read so they can talk about his interests) and expect praises and teary eyes and so many thanks that honestly, he'll just be so heartbroken when the darling is "okay, thanks" and goes back to not acknowledging him or his good deeds.

And yes, he has his scary moments where he takes his darlings out on "dates" into situation that frankly would not end well for them without his presence. But he does not understand why they are angry and crying from stress and fear after he took them out and even defended them from dangers.

Ratio has times where he punishes his darling or forces them to do something they don't want to do mercilessly. Where he uses them as needed for experiments or puts them in dangerous situations, knowing it's wrong, but using these moments to put him into a better light with his darling. He might be cunning, but once he realises that really, what is the darling supposed to do except shutting down when they meet deaf ears with every other reaction? Ratio begins to panic and that makes him into such a sweet, pathetic yandere, desperate for his darling.

Anyhow, I'm sure he can be scary temperamental, but I also like to think he's just not entirely made for having the upper hand in a relationship. (Sorry, I had these thoughts for such a long time, hope it was okay to jump on yours! I know they are a little different but your thoughts about him are super valid as well ♥)

[kibbits]

Some more Starry lore to spawn ideas, I was in a music club in highschool and I joined the last year it being run by a particular senior. He had his own set of keys to the Dj box in our school’s amphitheater so imagine the surprise all us new members had when he leads us up into the Dj box, out to the catwalks, and then proceeds to hop the catwalk rails and waltz across one of the metal rafters into the darkness. Turns out the og club members found out a massive concrete ledge that they just turned into their clubhouse. I figured the boys end up turning a part of backstage into their own personal room, but eventually when they need a true breather where they aren’t capable of being physically bothered (Or having their hangouts with Y/N being crashed) they found a spot in the rafters they turned into a nice cozy decompression spot (The daycare has given up requesting the ‘liberated’ pillows and blankets back, cheaper to buy new in bulk anyway). And unlike my club, there’s no risk of crashing through the ceiling to the ground 50 feet below with a cuddly bot with a built in tether.

- ✨ Starry ✨

HI HELLO STARRY IM SO SORRY IT TOOK ME LITERALLY 2 YEARS TO ANSWER OH MY GOD

So I loved this idea so much????? Cozy little space hidden up in the rafters. Either some architect's plans didn't quite line up and they just decided that, fuck it, no one's gonna see the gap (or maybe it's an obsolete sound management booth)

All the sounds are swallowed up when you're up here. It's perfect! They turn it into a cozy little hideout for when things are too loud and hectic.

It's Moon who first brings you there, suddenly grabbing you one night and whisking you up into the dark Paradise with nothing for context but his loud, gleeful cackles.

Did you know that the very top floor of the theater is called Paradise? You sure feel like you had a heart attack that night! The first time you go there with enough head on your shoulders to look around, well, it's a dark and dusty box. They bring soft blankets, and cushions "for your delicate human bones" next time. They're learning to tease, you see, but they're developing a taste for the "luxuries" of soft and cozy things, too.

You grumble, but you get some string lights up in there so you can see (soft, because it doesn't matter the wattage: Sun and Moon aren't actually kept under control by the lights and take turns)

Mid-movie, one night, Sun teases you about something, so you give him the old what-for. He plays innocent, but Moon rats him out. It's nice.

Thank you for the ask!!!!

[britt-kageryuu]

A bit unlikely to happen in TMNT, but the thought of the Turtles finding and claiming an uninhabited island to make a remote base. Doesn't sound to far off.

Or maybe they reclaimed it from a villain or something similar? (Donnie secured the deed or ownership before booting them out)

Either way they put together a little island paradise that they go to in between that multiple 'save the world' scenarios. Gotta distress somehow.

Other than the house and lab, there's a small clearing made into a tranquility garden for Meditation. The refurbished security marine life pools. And the training area that was rebuilt to fit the Turtles training style.

Not to forget a regular farm and garden area for various reasons. Like fresh ingredients for cooking or medicine.

Other this just depends on which version of the Turtles are taking over this island.

Though I've seen a couple of fic where MM/TOTTMNT just turn SuperFlys based into a hideout, so there's that.

I was thinking of those various Island Adventures playsets, and a few Secret Island Lairs playsets, and this started forming in my mind. I can't remember if there was ever a TMNT one or if my mind is making it up.

[fullscoreshenanigans]

I wanted to ask: what are your favorite norayemma fanfics? 👀👉👈

Ooo we will be here for a bit I love promoting fics that resonated with me so deeply and continue to shape my interpretation of the series (check out my TPN Fanfic tag for snippets to longer commentary in general), though I have yet to properly comment on some of them on AO3.

Beginning with one of the realest author's notes from @hylialeia:

Can you believe they invented OT3s 🖤🧡🤍

☆ This unnamed piece set during the timeskip by @p-s-geeks:

There is a flower in your pocket. It’s wild and medicinal. You’re familiar with it. You remember white bedsheets, a pleading whine, two pairs of hands embracing you, and the flower on your forehead, working more wonders that it was biologically capable of (it wasn’t the flower, you know). The flower currently in your pocket is probably in a worse state, has probably shriveled up and wilted after hours of being plucked. It weighs lighter than a feather but feels heavier than diamonds. […] You unearth the flower from your pocket. Ray deserves to see this. Deserves to relive memories with you. And you kind of need him to. Right now, he’s the only one who’s been through thick and thin with you in majority of these trials and tribulations. He’s the only one who can look at it the way you look at it. […] “It’s alright” Ray says, pressing himself closer to you. You hold onto him like he’s the last lifeline on a sinking boat. “It’s alright. You’re not alone. You never were alone” You sleep listening to her gentle words in his gentle voice and it’s the deepest sleep you’ve gotten in a long time. (You wake up to a beautiful orange sunrise. To limbs tangled around yours. To soft snores. To groaning and complaining about morning coming too early during summers. And the hole in your heart subdues itself. It doesn’t disappear, doesn’t stop panging, but you still smile in remembrance and hope.)

How all the little things build and build until they become so deafening, and how so much solace is able to be found in those small‚ tender exchanges on one quiet night, with Ray echoing simple yet loving words he learned from her so long ago that became etched into his being after Grace Field not only by her but through the actions‚ big and small‚ of their family as well (because family is so very integral to each of them). How at first orange is such a painful reminder and how it ends on a most radiant sunrise that's the true embodiment of Emma, giving them both the strength to continue onward.

☆ Everything in banana_slug_army's library. Too much to cite in one post, but here's her tag on here and me talking about the only kind of jealously I enjoy between them:

(I do subscribe to the headcanon of Norman having a pang of jealousy over how much time RE got to spend together before their reunion in the Paradise Hideout with how he tends to navigate extremes at that age, but it’s of a very specific variety. Seeing how close the Grace Field escapees have become during their near two years out in demon world and how that shared trauma brought them together could be a mixed bag for him, with the aching reminder that he wasn’t there with them, didn’t share those memories with them after a lifetime of being together, and the initial flare of jealously turns into shame over thinking it in the first place when 1) he’s mad at not being able to have been there with them‚ not at them, 2) how selfish it is to still want that when they already went through his death once and now will have to go through that a second time, and 3) he spent so long isolated and effectively helpless in his immediate circumstances while at Lambda and suffered for no justifiable reason that it manifests in a festering internal rage, which heartbreakingly can never be given a satisfactory answer…so basically banana_slug_army’s Interwoven lol)

☆ Everything in @salsae's TPN library. Again too much to cite but here's her tag on the blog, me gushing about (so what am I defending now?) aka the quintessential Norray-focused REN fic exploring NR's relationship nine months into the search for Emma, and me gushing about her canon-divergent REN wedding fic, to have and to hold (fanart here). I am constantly citing this snippet of defending and thinking about the flashback and dream sequences Shirai went back and added to the volume release of chapter 181.

☆ Speaking of wedding fics, @carnivorouswillgraham's w.a.m.s. gushing can be found here. Also the post that inspired the fic with my silly edit.

The softness she regards them with, almost proto-shoujo bubbles. 🖤🫧🧡🫧🤍 Norman, adorably, hesitating because he’s still grappling with latent feelings he can’t even begin to articulate about his friends, but at the forefront of them is how he unquestionably gravitates to them and is attune to all their little nuances. Ray, heartbreakingly, hesitating because he’s grappling with the reality he’s beginning to comprehend and the crushing acceptance that he can’t save all his siblings as things stand now, and after already narrowing it down to just Emma and Norman, being faced with the question of if he could honestly live with himself if he chose one to save over the other. The conclusion he comes to further bolsters his resolve to confront Isabella in just a few short weeks, and foreshadows the devastation of Norman’s shipment after a lifetime of realization and meticulous planning. Really like the quiet magnitude of this both for Emma and Norman’s blissful unawareness of the farm system’s horrors conceived for them and ofc from the future romantic perspective as being the core foundational tenant of REN. 🖤🧡🤍

☆ Last of the wedding-related fics but honeynpeaches' Between Your Fingers, Between the Lines also has the first portion of Ray's chapter dedicated to it so I'll use that as a segue (gushing found here). The third chapter exploring Emma's inner monologues throughout the course of the series remains unpublished, but the Norman and Ray chapters can be read as self-contained fics. Highly recommend it and frequently to go back to reread when I need to reground myself in their character foundations.

So many little nuances and call backs, profoundly beautiful.

Additional citation of snippets in this post and this post, as well as this post for Ray angst fic recommendations.

There are so many amazing passages in here, but the "[o]ften, those eyes are blue" line absolutely fucking wrecks me every time. How the cadence of that brevity lands on such a simple fact that now evokes so much sorrow when he used to have such warm and positive associations with those eyes. Windows to the soul and everything that made Norman Norman and what he loved about him.

And then the often referenced celestial symbolism of him as the stars of the trio (to Emma's sun and Norman's moon), but a less romanticized, more viscerally horrifying perspective on it.

☆ As the Crow Flies by Goldfish_Writes I've talked about in more depth here. I'm not very big on full genre AUs, with my usual thoughts being "I consider the characters' personalities inherently shaped by the narrative itself. If you remove them from those circumstances they cease to be the same characters anymore, and I grew attached to them in part because of the circumstances they found themselves in; I got attached to this story." I'm also not very big soulmate AUs as they seem to miss more than they hit for me. But I am a big fan of REN, and I'm interested in seeing where this fantasy story goes.

The pre-established Noremma is absolutely delightful. Another thing thing I've mentioned before is my dislike of Norman being extremely uncharacteristically nebbish or aggressively confident and suave when pursuing relationships that' works in tandem's usually packaged with Emma becoming bizarrely demure. Again, I understand the appeal of stock scenarios, but it's not something I enjoy reading for them. I adore when they reach this level of knowing, playful banter with an underlying thrum of challenge, bred of familiarity at which boundaries can be teasingly skirted and which are low blows and off-limits, and founded on them being equals (after both of them, to different degrees, placed each other on pedestals).

☆ home by 81194, featuring a classic scenario of Ray, a dumbass, trying so so hard to lie to himself about his feelings for NE and failing spectacularly throughout a series of snippets before the two take matters into their own hands.

i think emma wouldn’t have been so spontaneous if she hadn’t been sure of how everything would go. things always go her way when she’s involved, after all… i love her sm.

Very much in agreement on Emma's respectful tenacity and ambition on these matters lol

☆ A Relatively Brief Reflection on Cognitive Dissonance by ribbontype is a wonderful character study of Norman up to the trio's reunion in chapter 121 executed through exquisite, deft prose, allowing one to easily luxuriate in its flow and imagery.

The way they make him whole and reaffirm his resolve to damn destiny itself. <3

☆ Tethered by SuddenWhispers is a beautifully written fic beginning during the human world arc and continuing past canon as the cast navigate what living truly means in the human world, along with what Emma regaining her memories could mean for the new promise.

Also some Ray and Barbara and Cislo interactions with the latter two acting as mentor figures to the former encouraging him on one of his weaker fronts of advocating for his wants, hello??

☆ the ambiguity of belonging by Kiss_Kiss is another post-canon fic that's smaller in scope but no less rewarding of a read with its quiet and desperate moments of vulnerability between the trio reaffirming how much they mean to each other.

Also not only is the handwave of Lambda sickness done away with for Norman, but it also touches upon what the difficulties of losing one's ear entails for Emma, something I rarely if ever see.

☆ Finally, hoping you're someone i used to know by @hylialeia

A post-canon fic delivered in gorgeous lyrical cadence. Such loving attention is paid to sentence composition that the words aren't merely a means to an end, but a reflection of a deep appreciation for both these characters and the craft itself, the weight of them meant to be lingered over and savored. Always a treat when you can find a fic like this in a fandom.

[galaxymagitech]

Cain Instinct

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64604743

For @dickgraysonweek Day 6: Multiverse | Dick's Harem of Older Men | Murder Attempt

Summary: Thomas Wayne killed Dick Grayson's family. One way or another, Dick will get his revenge. And Joker has just offered him the perfect opportunity.

Characters: Dick Grayson (Earth-3), Thomas Wayne Jr. (Earth-3), Joker (Earth-3)

Warning: Major Character Death

You can read it here or on AO3!

Dick shouldn’t have come without his gear. He knows that. He’s no fool. But the Talon suit had seemed to burn against his skin. After all, Talon is Owlman’s. And Dick is not Owlman’s. Not anymore. Not after what he learned last night.

It’s because he doesn’t have the heat detectors in his goggles that Dick nearly falls victim to Joker’s trap. He’s a trained acrobat, though, and it’ll take more than a fiery pit to kill him. He leaps out of the way, pulling himself into a roll to extinguish the flames that caught his black sweatshirt. He leaps to his feet, surveying the maze of boxes and scientific gear that comprises the Joker’s hideout.

Joker steps out from behind a particularly tall tower of crates, his paper-pale face stretched into a painful smile. When he claps his hands together in a mockery of applause, the sound echoes through the warehouse. “Talon,” he says. Dick supposes that his fighting style is plenty recognizable to Owlman’s greatest enemy. That and the makeshift goggles on his face. “What a pleasant surprise.”

Dick shifts into a fighting stance. He’s done playing second fiddle to Thomas. First, he’ll do what Thomas never could and defeat the Joker. And then, he’ll go after Thomas himself and take the man’s empire as his own. “I’m not Talon,” he growls, drawing two knives from his belt—one for each hand.

Joker laughs. “If it walks like a machine gun and quacks like a machine gun…” Dick leaps forwards, swiping with his right blade. Joker ducks out of the way, still laughing, and strikes towards Dick’s abdomen. Dick twists to the side and ducks as Joker withdraws a gun and shoots it inhumanly-quickly. “Tell me,” Joker says, sidestepping Dick’s kick. “Where’s your strigine companion?”

Dick matches Joker’s smile, lunging. He dodges three more bullets and slices shallowly across Joker’s chest. With any other piece of Gotham’s scum, that would be enough for the kill, but Joker is immune to any of the poisons Thomas has tested. “Owlman’s not here,” Dick says. “Tonight, you deal with me.”

“Oh?” Joker asks. He shoots again, one more bullet than Dick expected his gun to hold. Dick dodges—of course he does—but it clips his shoulder. He stumbles away, instinctively putting pressure on the wound. Focus, he reminds himself, and removes his hand from his shoulder. “Trouble in paradise?”

The gall. Lightning-quick, Dick throws a knife, pinning the Joker’s hand to a nearby crate. Joker doesn’t cry out in pain. Dick doesn’t even think the creature feels pain, anymore. Instead, Joker just grins. “None of your business,” Dick says. “Or, it won’t be, soon enough. Tonight, you die.” He throws another knife, this time going for Joker’s eye, but Joker grabs the first knife and pulls it out from his own hand, ducking just in time for the second blade to only clip his green hair.

“Actually, chum,” Joker says, “I think it is.”

Chum. Dick freezes. Thomas calls him chum. Called him chum.

Called him friend.

Called him brother.

Joker takes the opportunity to disappear behind a table covered in pages of scribbled notes. “You’re mad at him,” Joker says, sing-song. “So angry. I can taste it. You hate him.” Joker’s voice moves, like he’s travelling throughout the warehouse. Dick tries to track him. “And wouldn’t you know it! I hate him too.”

“Come out, Joker,” Dick orders, “and maybe I’ll make your death quick.”

“I think,” Joker says from somewhere behind Dick, “he hurt you.” Dick turns around and stalks forward. “Or—no, I think you’d be into that, little Talon. I think he hurt someone you loooooved. You pretend to be a sociopath, like him, like me, but you’re not. You’re not good enough.” Dick’s hands curl into fists. He focuses his hearing. He will make Joker pay for his words. “Tell me, did he hurt your mommy? Your daddy? Your little baby sister?” A low growl rolls from Dick’s chest. All of the above. Joker laughs in delight. “You want payback, kid. I can get behind that. How about it?”

Like a viper, Dick strikes, sending a kick flying into a stack of crates. They topple over, stunning the Joker, who was hiding behind them. Dick reaches out and fists a gloved hand in Joker’s shirt. He spins him around and slams him into a wall, bracing one arm against Joker’s chest and holding a knife to his throat. A drop of Joker’s toxic blood rolls down and sinks into Dick’s sleeve. And in that split second, Dick makes a decision.

“Alright, Joker,” he says. “Start talking.”

***

“He’ll kill you, you know,” Dick says idly as he lounges in the desk chair of some unfortunate STAR Labs scientist. Eleven feet away, Joker hacks apart a well-made but brainless clone. The wonders of modern technology, huh?

“Not if I kill him first,” Joker responds cheerfully. “But it doesn’t matter anyway. If I die, you’ll kill him for me, won’t you, birdie?”

Dick smirks. Of course. If he thought that Joker would actually succeed at killing Thomas, he would be planning to stab Joker in the back before he delivered his present. Thomas is his, after all—his to kill. But Joker won’t manage it. And it’s better this way. Two birds with one stone.

“Why do you hate him so much, now?” Joker asks, tilting his head as he saws off Clone-Richard’s arm.

“He killed my family,” Dick says simply. If Thomas had known what was good for him, he would have kept the secret to his grave. Instead, the man had thought that he was more important to Dick, that he had replaced the Dick’s first family in his heart. Well, Dick may have been the brother Thomas always wanted, but ultimately, Dick is a Grayson. And Graysons don’t let anyone take what’s theirs.

Once, Dick had looked at Thomas like a savior. The man had come to him in his darkest moment, put a hand on his shoulder, and took him into his arms. He gave Dick a home, a family, vengeance. And just like Thomas had planned, he had Dick’s loyalty, his devotion, his love.

For Dick’s twenty-first birthday, Thomas had given him the gift of a knife in the back. He’d stood there, one hand sitting firmly on Dick’s shoulder and the other resting gently on his cheek, and told him that he was responsible for the deaths of Dick’s parents and sister that horrible night. “I saw you,” Thomas had said, “and I knew you were meant to be by my side. It’s been five years, Richard. And now I know I was right.”

Thomas had looked at Dick like he’d expected him to be flattered. Like he’d expected him to be grateful.

And in a way, Dick is. Not grateful that Thomas freed him or chose him or wanted him or any of the platitudes the man went on to say. No, Dick is grateful for the power that Thomas has given him. Because not only did Thomas kill valuable allies to gain access to Dick—he told Dick about it. He feared losing his Talon so badly that he revealed what he did, rather than let Dick find out on his own. And instead of killing Dick when he raged at him and then turned his back, Thomas had pleaded with him to stay—and then let him go.

Dick was raised in the Grayson Circus, among the acts his parents had blackmailed into joining, and then sat at Owlman’s right hand. He knows that power is everything. And yesterday, Thomas gave Dick the ultimate power over him.

“It’s done,” Joker says, gesturing to a set of green boxes dotted with black stars and wrapped with purple ribbons. The clone has been cut into six parts: torso, two arms, two legs, and a head. For all intents and purposes, Richard Grayson—Owlman’s beloved Talon—lies in those boxes. Joker claps his hands together like a delighted child. “Oh, what a lovely present this will be!”

Owlman—outsmarted by a clown. Let the punishment fit the crime.

***

Dick watches as Thomas grieves. He tries to be cold and dispassionate, but guilt and grief begins to curl up like a parasite in his chest. Despite everything, Thomas was his brother for five years. He trained Dick to bring out his full potential. Gave Dick everything he asked for. Held Dick as he mourned his parents.

The parents that Thomas killed, Dick reminds himself.

If he can’t burn cold, then he will burn hot. He kindles the rage in his chest, lets his anger at Thomas consume him. And he waits, blood boiling as he seethes.

Dick knows how to wait. And initially he plans to wait longer—years, even. Enough time to sweep Thomas’s feet out from underneath him and steal his empire and life in one fell swoop. But then, he observes Thomas begin to look beyond this universe. Look for another version of Richard Grayson. A replacement.

No. Dick won’t allow that. If he can’t have Thomas—and he can’t, not after what Thomas did—then no version of him can.

So, Dick takes a poisoned blade and a costume with a bloody red V slashed across its chest—just like his old circus costume—and meets Owlman on a Gotham rooftop.

Thomas freezes. Cocks his head to the side, like he really is an owl. And then he’s moving, striding towards Dick with strong, powerful steps. He stops just in front of Dick, suddenly uncertain. “Richard,” Thomas says, voice quiet, wonderous. “Is that you?”

Dick has seen Thomas in the past two months. Even heard his voice. But standing here, with Thomas seeing him—it’s different. He sways, overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment.

“Systems are control,” Thomas whispers.

A passphrase. Dick swallows. “And chaos is cancer.”

Thomas wraps his arms around Dick, pulling him against his chest. “My boy,” Thomas murmurs. “You’re alive.”

And Dick wavers. Perhaps he could go on like this. Let himself sink into Thomas’s arms. Go home, to his second family. Erase his past.

But what Thomas did…Dick can never trust him again.

And so, Dick takes his knife—soaked in one of the few toxins which Thomas could never manage to inoculate himself against—and drives it into a chink in Owlman’s armor, just over Thomas’s stomach.

In the very same instant, Dick feels a twin knife sink into his back. He gasps in shock as Thomas rips the knife out and the blood rushes from his wound. Hands trembling, Dick twists his own blade out of Thomas’s stomach.

For a moment, they stand there in silence, Cain embracing Cain. And then, Dick lets out a tiny, choked noise as the pain hits in full force, tearing him open. It’s not the pain of Thomas’s knife—Dick has endured far worse—but rather the pain of the betrayal. Thomas was never supposed to kill him.

Thomas coughs, dribbling warm blood into Dick’s hair. “You foolish boy,” he says, voice rough. “You could’ve survived that, if I was alive to treat you. It was only supposed to—” He coughs. “It was only supposed to be insurance. You would have lived.”

Oh. So Thomas hadn’t meant to kill him. Dick’s fingers curl in the feathers of Thomas’s cape. He can’t bring himself to regret killing Thomas, though. In a way, this means that Dick owns him. He extracted the ultimate price—not Thomas’s life, but his own.

“Maybe,” Dick says, “it’s better this way.” Weakly, Thomas removes the cowl from his face and letting it fall on the rooftop.

Grinning through bloody teeth, Dick reaches up and wraps his hands around Thomas’s throat.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 18 - To Hear the Distant Church Bells Chime

Summary: The gang finds a new hideout at Shady Belle, just outside the heart of the new modern America. With Jack still missing, Kate and Arthur must work together to find him. Amidst the tension, Arthur confides in Kate about his deepest regrets.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters   Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

A/N: 9.5k words yippee! Not gonna lie gang, I'm really proud of this one. So many feels. So many emotions. Little disclaimer, when I talk about Arthurs past, I am not following the canon events. I've changed the details to suit the story. Anyways, I'm so glad to be able to share this and not make you wait another two months (oopsie)

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams @lunawolfclaw 

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

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

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows over the dense swamps of Lemoyne, the gang found themselves approaching their new hideout—Shady Belle. The journey had been grueling, filled with the constant threat of pursuit and the weight of recent tragedies. They had to pack quickly, and unfortunately had to leave things behind in the rush. Now, as they rode up to the dilapidated manor, a sense of uneasy relief washed over them. Physical and mental exhaustion settled into their bones as they took in the site of their new “home”.

Shady Belle was a far cry from the relative peace of Clemens Point. The old plantation house stood partially reclaimed by the swamp, its once-grand façade now crumbling and overgrown with ivy. The windows were shattered, and the wooden walls were rotting, giving the manor an eerie, haunted appearance. A thick fog clung to the ground, swirling around their horses' hooves as they approached. Even as the moon began its ascent, the sun retiring after another long day, the humidity clung to the air like thistles. The dry fever of western Lemoyne was replaced with a sweltering sticky heat from the southern swamps. 

The surrounding grounds were equally foreboding. Gnarled trees twisted upwards, their branches draped with Spanish moss that hung like ghostly curtains. The stagnant water of the nearby bayou reflected the deepening twilight, and the air was thick with the hum of insects and the distant croaking of frogs. It was a place that seemed to whisper of long-forgotten secrets and unseen dangers lurking just beyond the shadows. The cover over the bayou would keep them hidden, but the single path leading to the manor meant it would be difficult to escape if they were ambushed. 

Arthur and John were waiting for the gang upon their arrival. Having cleared out the space per Dutch's commands. It was a quick, bloody battle. The old manor had been claimed by squatters and drunks. Homeless people just looking for a roof over their head and a place to rest. There was no time for negotiation, and so they opened fire. They had just cleared the last of the bodies as the sound of hooves and wagons approached them. 

“Welcome to my humble abode!” Arthur called out with a hint of mockery and sarcasm. “If you can ignore the corpses and the alligators. It's practically paradise.” 

Dutch dismounted and surveyed the scene, his keen eyes scanning for any immediate threats. He motioned for the others to spread out and park the wagons by the front. Approaching Arthur and John with a confident smile, “nice work boys.” He turned back towards the chuck wagon, “Ms. Grimshaw, Mr. Pearson,” he addressed. “Work your magic if you’d please.” The two dismounted from the wagon with a nod and began unloading supplies. 

Dutch strode up the creaking steps to the front porch. The door hung loosely on its hinges, and with a firm push, he swung it open, revealing the dim interior. Dust motes danced in the fading light, and the musty smell of decay permeated the air. The once-opulent hallways were now lined with peeling wallpaper and broken furniture, evidence of years of neglect and abandonment.

Inside, the gang fanned out to explore their new home. Javier and Bill took to the upper floors, their footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. Lenny and Charles headed towards the back of the house, checking the kitchens and servant quarters. Meanwhile, Arthur and John remained outside to help unload their wagons. 

Kate lingered near the entrance, her eyes drawn to the remnants of what was once a grand chandelier, now shattered and strewn across the floor. She felt a shiver run down her spine, the oppressive atmosphere of the place seeping into her bones. Sadie stood beside her, brows knitted together with uncertainty.

“This place gives me the creeps,” Sadie whispered, her voice carrying a hint of doubt.

Kate nodded, “It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do. At least we’re out of danger, for now.” 

As the gang settled in, Dutch gathered them in the main courtyard around a broken and withered fountain. “This ain’t much, but it’s ours for the time being,” he said, his voice echoing from the front steps. “We’ll make do. We always have.”

Arthur glanced around the group, noting the weary expressions and the unspoken fears. Shady Belle might provide them with temporary refuge, but the looming threat of Bronte and Jack, and the relentless pursuit of the Pinkertons weighed heavily on them all. His eyes found Kate’s amongst the crowd, she was watching him instead of paying attention to Dutch. Arthur was relieved that she didn’t leave, regretting his previous words to her almost as soon as he said them. But his duty and his ego stopped him from turning around and apologizing right then and there. He desperately needed to talk to her, he had let his anger and anxiety take hold of him. As the crowd began to disperse he was ready to approach her, when he heard his name called from the small dock jutting out into the water. It was John. 

Arthur sighed, Jack was still their top priority. His time with Kate would have to wait for another day. As he left the scene he noticed Ms. Grimshaw handed her a crate, she would be occupied with her own tasks anyhow. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

“This is crazy, right? Tell me I’m not the only one who thinks this whole thing is crazy,” John sputtered, pacing the rotting wooden dock as Arthur approached.

The small wooden fishing bench called his name, and Arthur sat down with a weary sigh. He felt so tired, so drained, and so old. The years of running were catching up to him. “It’s gonna be alright, John.”

“We should be going after Jack!” John exclaimed, his voice laced with frustration.

“We will. As soon as everyone is safe and settled in. We need to be careful. Milton is coming back, and he’ll bring an army with him,” Arthur explained. “Jack will be alright. We’re no use to him dead.”

John sighed, defeated, and took the seat next to Arthur. He pulled out a cigarette and lit the match with the tip of his boot. After a long drag, he passed the burning tobacco to his elder brother. “I don't even know what to think anymore.”

Arthur nodded and accepted the cigarette, taking a slow drag and letting the smoke pool around them in a cloud. “I know, but we gotta be smart about this.”

John scoffed. “Smart? Are you joking? We stirred up so much trouble and drew ‘em right to us again! How many people have we killed in the past week?”

Arthur ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of their actions. “Far too many, I reckon.”

“I’m tired of Dutch’s games, Hosea’s too. ‘Master con men’ my ass. They’re getting old and running out of ideas. Why should we suffer for it?” John said bitterly.

“Watch your mouth, Marston,” Arthur shot him a warning glare. “They thought those families were sitting on gold. I don’t know what else to tell you. Things don’t always work out—”

“Yeah, they thought there was money,” John interrupted. “Ain’t this always about money? And yet we never seem to have any!”

Arthur sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose as John stood up abruptly. “Jack’s gone. Sean’s dead, Mac, Davey, Jenny. All of this death, and for what?”

John was beginning to sound like Kate, and Arthur understood why she had joined him on their revenge mission. “We can’t change what’s done. We can only move on.”

“We need to start learning from our mistakes. We need to leave,” John said with confidence. “After we get Jack. My family, you, and Kate. We high tail.”

“We’ve had a rocky run, but it ain’t all bad. Dutch has a plan—” Arthur tried to make his brother see reason and logic. Running away wasn't going to be easy on their own, and they had the whole gang to take care of.

“This whole plan is a goddamn mess! Dutch keeps gettin’ us into worse trouble! You nearly died because he was too ignorant to see he was being set up.”

Arthur rose from his seat and pointed an accusatory finger at his brother. “And I hear you decided to take care of that little problem. Maybe if you hadn’t left, Jack wouldn’t be gone!” John swallowed and narrowed his gaze.

“You could have gotten yourself killed, Marston. Or worse. You keep this up, and you’ll never make it out alive.” Arthur shoved past him, intending to leave with those words.

He had heard enough. The situation gnawed at him. John and Kate were right, and he knew it, but he couldn’t bring himself to go against Dutch. He had to have faith that things would work out, that he would see them through this. Dutch had always taken care of them, since the day he found them when they were children.

“I know Kate broke your promise,” John said slowly. Arthur stopped in his tracks. “I asked her to. And she fought unlike any woman I’ve seen before.” A moment of silence passed between them, sweat running down Arthur’s neck and tickling his spine.

“I don’t know what she sees in you, Morgan, but she loves you something fierce,” John said finally.

Red. Arthur’s vision went red. Images of a woman long gone flashed before his eyes, letters of love burning in a fire. Memories of his past mingled with his present, the pain and guilt intermingling in a relentless assault on his senses.

He whirled around and shoved John back harshly, nearly pushing him into the water. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about Kate!” he shouted, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions.

John’s eyes darkened, but he held his ground. “I know you're terrified she’ll end up like Eliza,” he said, adding salt to the wound he knew he was reopening.

“You have the chance to do this differently, Arthur. Think about that.” This time John was the one to push past Arthur, making his way back into the bustling camp as everyone continued to unpack.

Arthur took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. Grief and regret flooded over him, each memory of Eliza and Isaac tearing at his heart. He longed for Kate’s comfort, her presence more than anything. Her words always filled him with reassurance, grounding him in a way nothing else could. She might be the only woman who truly understood him. And yet he knew he couldn’t face her now, not after what he said. And all the words that still remained unsaid, the truth about Eliza and Isaac.

He willed the memories to leave, but they haunted him and pressed down on his soul like a heavy weight. He remembered Eliza’s gentle smile, the way she cradled Isaac in her arms, the hope that they had kindled together only to have it brutally extinguished. The regret of not being there, not protecting them, tore at him every day. The fear of losing Kate the same way gnawed at his heart, driving him to the brink of despair.

Arthur pulled out another cigarette, lighting it with a shaky hand. He sat back down on the rotting bench, feeling the weight of the world on his shoulders. The sound of cicadas and tree frogs filled the air, a stark contrast to the turmoil within him. He closed his eyes, trying to find some semblance of peace in the night sounds of their new hideout. But the pain, the fear, and the unspoken words lingered, wrapping around his heart like a vice, leaving him to grapple with his demons in the stillness of the night.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Saint Denis was a world away from the rugged, untamed wilderness that the gang was used to. It was a bustling city, teeming with life and activity at all hours of the day and night. The streets were lined with tall, elegant buildings, their facades adorned with intricate ironwork and ornate detailing. Electric lamps illuminated the sidewalks, casting a warm glow that contrasted sharply with the cool, modernity of the city. The cobblestone streets were filled with carriages, horses, and pedestrians, all moving in a chaotic but oddly harmonious dance. The distant ring of the trolly cart could be heard as it made frequent stops at every main intersection. 

The air was thick with the scents of the city – the sweet aroma of freshly baked bread from the bakeries, the pungent smell of horse manure, and the ever-present tang of coal smoke from the factories. Street vendors hawked their wares, calling out to passersby with promises of the finest goods and the best prices. The sounds of the city were equally overwhelming – the clatter of hooves on cobblestones, the murmur of conversations, the clanging of streetcars, and the distant wail of a train whistle.

Kate had joined Arthur, Dutch, John, and Charles in their search for Angelo Bronte, the elusive figure who held the key to Jack’s whereabouts. Despite the fight they had, Arthur didn’t protest her presence. The tension between them was palpable, but there was an unspoken understanding that the mission at hand was more important than their personal grievances.

Dutch halted the group at the small central park in Saint Denis, the sprawling city looming around them with its grand architecture and bustling streets. The cacophony of voices and the distant hum of machinery filled the air. The scent of smoke and industry mingled with the aroma of street food vendors, creating a sensory overload that was both thrilling and overwhelming.

“Alright, we split up,” Dutch ordered, his eyes scanning the faces of his small posse. “We need to find Bronte’s whereabouts. Ask around, see if anyone knows anything. Be discreet, but don’t waste time.”

Kate nodded, her heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and determination. The city felt like a labyrinth, each turn leading to more questions and fewer answers. She glanced a look at Arthur, their eyes meeting briefly. She saw a flicker of concern in his gaze, before he nodded and left. 

Kate set off down a side street, the sound of her boots echoing on the cobblestones. The city was alive with activity, children laughing and playing, and people bustling about their daily lives. It was a stark contrast to the quiet desperation that had settled over their camp.

She approached various shops and vendors and asked about a man named Bronte. Most of them ignored her questions, opting to try and convince her to buy their goods. Some merchants gave her a weary look at the mention of his name, and informed her that they don’t want to get involved. Their demeanor suggested that this Bronte man was dangerous, and this mission may be bigger than they realized. 

As she walked, a distant sound caught her attention—church bells, their clear, melodic tones cutting through the noise of the city. Drawn by the sound, Kate followed the bells, winding her way through the streets until she reached a grand cathedral. Its towering spires reached towards the heavens, the stones adorned with intricate carvings and stained glass windows that glinted in the sunlight. It reminded her of the church back in Boston, the one her catholic mother would bring the whole family to for Sunday worship. It had been so long since Kate attended church, after her mother passed, her father never kept up with religion. 

The ringing bells announced the joining of two souls in marriage, their song filling the air with a sense of celebration and hope. Kate stood at the entrance, watching as the wedding party gathered on the steps. The bride, radiant in her white gown, and the groom, beaming with pride, were surrounded by family and friends, their laughter and joy a stark contrast to the sorrow in Kate’s heart.

She closed her eyes, the memories of her own wedding day flooding back. The scent of blooming flowers, the sound of her family’s laughter, and the feel of her husband’s hand in hers. She remembered the warmth of his embrace, the way he looked at her with so much love. But those days were long gone, stolen away by the harsh realities of life. Her family was gone, her husband and child lost to the world of chaos that seemed to follow her every step. She missed them all fiercely, the pain of their absence a constant ache in her heart.

Drawing in a deep breath, Kate squared her shoulders. She couldn’t afford to dwell on the past, not when there was so much at stake. The bells continued to ring, a reminder of what she had lost, but also a beacon of hope for what she could still protect.

As she rejoined the bustling streets of Saint Denis, she kept her ears open and her eyes sharp, ready to follow any lead that would bring them closer to Angelo Bronte and the answers they desperately needed.

Kate navigated through the narrow streets of Saint Denis, her eyes scanning the faces of passersby for any hint of familiarity or recognition. The city’s vibrant energy of the city was distracting but she remained focused on the task at hand. The distant sound of the church bells still echoed in her ears. 

As she turned down a side street, a sudden blur of comotion caught her attention. A young boy, no older than twelve, sprinted past her, nearly knocking her over. He clutched something tightly to his chest, his eyes wide with fear and determination.

"Hey!" Kate called out, but the boy didn’t stop. Moments later, Arthur came barreling down the street, his face a mix of frustration and urgency. He was limping slightly, favoring his uninjured ankle.

"You little shit!" he shouted, breathless, "I’ll kill you ya thieving bastard!" Arthur ran past Kate and darted down the alley after the young boy. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Kate sprinted after the boy, her boots echoing in the narrow alley. She could hear Arthur’s labored breathing behind her, pushing through the pain to keep up. The boy was fast, weaving through the crowd with the agility of a street urchin well-versed in the art of escape. Kate spotted an alleyway ahead and made a split-second decision. She darted down the narrow passage, hoping to cut the boy off.

The alley was dimly lit and cluttered with discarded crates and barrels, but she navigated it with ease. As she emerged on the other side, she saw the boy racing towards her. He didn’t notice her until it was too late, running straight into her towering figure.

Kate gripped the boy's shoulders tightly, enough to warn him without causing harm. He looked up at her, eyes wide with shock and fear.

“I believe you took something that belongs to my friend,” she said calmly. “Hand it over. I’m not going to hurt you.”

Arthur finally caught up to them, breathing hard as he leaned against the stone archway when he saw Kate. “Goddamn rotten bastard,” he growled, pushing off the wall and approaching them.

The young boy looked back and stuttered, “I-I was only playing mister, I swear!” He threw the satchel to the ground at Arthur’s feet, trying to worm his way out of Kate’s grasp. He struggled as she tightened her hold.

“Please let me go Miss, I-I’m sorry!”

“Fuckin' right you’re sorry,” Arthur mumbled, picking up his things. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill ya right here.” He spat.

Kate shot him a vehement look, and he turned his face shamefully. Checking his bag to make sure nothing was gone. 

Kate knelt down to the boy's level, her grip still holding his shoulders tightly. “What’s your name, kid?”

“J-Joey. My name’s Joey,” the boy sputtered.

Kate breathed and relaxed her grip, trying to show him she meant no harm. “It’s nice to meet you, Joey. Can you tell me where your family is?”

Joey shook his head, his voice trembling. “Don’t have one, Miss.”

Arthur’s eyes softened slightly, but his voice remained stern. “Then what the hell were you doin’ runnin’ around with my satchel?”

Joey hesitated, his eyes darting between Kate and Arthur. “I-I work for Mister Bronte. He said we could keep anything we stole. Said it’d make us rich.”

Kate exchanged a glance with Arthur, her heart pounding with relief and urgency. They finally had a lead. “Where does Bronte live, Joey?” she asked gently.

The boy’s eyes filled with fear, but Kate’s calming presence seemed to reassure him. “He’s got a big house by the water, right near the docks. Lots of men guardin' it.”

Kate sighed and released the boy. “You did good, Joey. Now get outta here and don’t let me catch you stealin’ again.”

Joey nodded quickly and took off down the alley, disappearing into the labyrinth of Saint Denis. Kate stood up and locked eyes with Arthur. It had been two days since Jack went missing, two days since their fight. There was a heavy, awkward silence between them, the weight of unspoken words hanging in the air.

Arthur's eyes were filled with relief and something else—something she couldn't quite place. He opened his mouth to speak, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Kate tried to form her own thoughts into words, but her mind was whirling with emotions. 

Finally, Arthur cleared his throat. Breaking the silence. “I left Charles near the market. He’s keepin' an eye out.”

Kate nodded, “right.” Her voice is steady despite the trouble within. “I’ll go roundup John and Dutch. We’ll meet at Bronte's manor.”

They stood there for a moment longer, neither knowing what else to say. The tension between them was palpable, but there was also a shared determination. They had a mission to complete, and Jack’s life depended on it.

Arthur gave her a brief, tight nod before turning and heading back towards the market. Kate watched him go, her heart aching with the desire to bridge the gap between them, but now was not the time.

With a deep breath, she turned and made her way through the bustling streets of Saint Denis. The city was alive with activity, the noise and chaos a stark contrast to the heavy silence that had hung between her and Arthur. She spotted John and Dutch near a corner store. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Charles had been a quiet, solid presence in Arthur’s life, a true friend and trusted companion. Despite having been with the gang for less than a year, Charles had quickly developed a meaningful friendship with Arthur, seeing the man beneath the tough outlaw exterior. As they rode side by side toward Bronte’s manor, Arthur couldn’t help but reflect on how much he valued Charles’ calm and steady demeanor. He was truly a good man if Arthur had anything to say about him. 

The city of Saint Denis gradually gave way to the more serene, albeit equally intimidating, waterside district where Bronte’s manor was located. The grandeur of the city was lost on Arthur; his mind was too occupied with worry and the mission at hand.

Charles glanced over at Arthur, sensing the conflict within him. “You alright, Arthur?” he asked, his voice low and steady, a grounding force.

Arthur let out a heavy sigh, his grip tightening on the reins. “I dunno, Charles. Feels like everything’s fallin’ apart.”

Charles nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “It’s been a rough few days. Jack’s missing, Sean’s death, the new hide out... it’s a lot to take in.”

Arthur looked ahead, his jaw clenched. “It’s more than that. Feels like everythin’ I do just makes things worse. Dutch’s plans, they’re not workin’. And then there’s Kate…”

Charles turned his gaze to Arthur, waiting patiently for him to continue.

“I told her not to go after Colm’s men. Made her promise,” Arthur continued, his voice tinged with regret. “But she did it anyway. And now I can’t stop thinkin’ about—” he hesitated for a breath. “I can’t protect her when she goes off like that.”

Charles nodded again, understanding the depth of Arthur’s pain. He wasn’t around when Arthur had lost his family, but he had heard the others talk about the burden he carried.

“Kate’s a strong woman. She’s been through a lot, just like you. She thought she was doin’ the right thing, even if it went against what you wanted.”

Arthur sighed, the weight of his past bearing down on him. “She promised me—”

“Stop. It’s not about her promise, I know you’re not as dense as all that.” Charles gave Arthur a moment to process what he said before he continued, treading lightly with his words. “You’ve gotta let go of your guilt, Arthur. It’s eating you alive.” He said softly.

“I love her, Charles,” Arthur’s voice trembled. His facade of strength was crumbling away with every moment.

“I love her so much it scares me. But my loyalty to the gang, it’s…it’s the closest thing I’ll ever have to a family again. Kate doesn’t deserve to get swept into this mess.”

Charles sighed deeply, understanding the strain Arthur was under. “Kate is smart, she understands the risks that come with this life. But she chose you, Arthur. She’s devoted herself to you. What she deserves is the truth.”

Arthur nodded, but the words still hurt to hear. He knew his friend was right. “Something big is coming, the law is breathin’ right down our necks. I’m putting her in danger, and I am so goddamn selfish because despite it all, I love her. And I can’t let her go.”

“It’s not selfish if she wants the same thing.” Charles said, as the grand manor came into view on the edge of the shoreline. The others had already dismounted and were waiting for them by the gate.

“Tell her the truth, Arthur. I have a feeling no matter what you say, she’s not going anywhere.”

Arthur and Charles rode up to the grand gates of Bronte's manor, the imposing structure casting long shadows in the afternoon sun. Dutch and John were already speaking to the guards, their voices low and tense. Charles took the reins of their horses, patting them gently to keep them calm. Arthur scanned the scene, his eyes immediately seeking out Kate.

He found her standing a little apart from the others, her gaze fixed on the manor with a determined look. Arthur approached her quietly, the weight of the past few days heavy on his shoulders. He stopped beside her, gazing up at the grand house. His presence was a silent reassurance.

“Kate,” Arthur murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kate turned to him, her eyes softening with concern. “Arthur,” she breathed. He looked down, searching her eyes, seeing trust and understanding shimmering within them. Arthur was sure of it.

“Will you stay with Charles? Keep an eye on things, for me?” He had no idea what they were about to walk into, but if he could keep her safe from it, Arthur would damn well do it.

“Of course,” Kate answered immediately.

Arthur breathed a sigh of relief just as Dutch called his name. The heavy metal gates opened with a loud creaking sound, and before Arthur could turn away, Kate grabbed his hand.

“You be safe, ya hear?” she said sternly. “And you get that boy back, no matter what.” A small grin played on her lips.

“I’m countin’ on it, sweetheart,” he replied, bringing their conjoined hands to his face and kissing her knuckles.

His fierce, determined eyes locked on hers for a moment, before he broke away, rising to his duties. The simple gesture spoke volumes, a promise of protection and unwavering love.

As the gates closed with a loud bang behind them, Kate watched the three of them ascend the long white marble steps and enter the manor. She whispered a silent prayer to the wind for their safety, and Jack's return. 

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

By some miracle, the illusive man, Angelo Bronte, had not harmed a single hair on Jack's head. Much to everyone's surprise, Mr. Bronte had fed him, clothed him, and even given him a room of his own, full of toys, books, and games that every child could only dream of. The ride back to Shady Belle was filled with a silent relief. It was a win by all means, for once in their lives the conflict did not end with bloodshed. And for that, everyone was grateful. 

Jack was home safe with his mother once again. Smothering him with kisses and checking every inch of his body for signs of harm. The young boy protested and whined, promising his Ma that he was fine. But as they sat around the fire, Abigail held her boy tightly in her lap. Resting her head against his, and promising never to let him out of her sight ever again. 

The gang decided to celebrate Jack's return, letting the tension of the past days melt away in the warmth of a roaring fire. Singing and dancing erupted around the flames, creating a tapestry of joy and camaraderie under the moonlit sky. The flickering firelight cast playful shadows, illuminating the faces of the outlaws who, for one night, could forget their troubles.

Kate mingled with the others, trying to shake off the weight of recent events. But her eyes kept drifting to the periphery, where she noticed Arthur standing at a distance, watching the festivities with a sorrowful expression. His silhouette was stark against the dark backdrop of the night, a silent guardian on the edge of the light. He stood alone, like a wolf banished from the pack. The only signs of life were the red glow of his cigarette, as he lifted it to lips every so often. 

She entertained the party for a while longer, joining in the songs and clapping along with the rhythm of the music. But when she looked back to where Arthur had been standing, he was gone. The empty space he left behind tugged at her heart, and she knew she had to find him. 

Excusing herself from the group, Kate made her way through the camp, the laughter and music fading behind her. She walked towards the dimly lit manor, her footsteps soft against the grass and gravel.

Instead of focussing on the dreadful state of their new home – the peeling walls, the rotting stairs and missing floorboards – she focused instead, on the flickering light of Arthur’s room. She paused for a moment outside the door, gathering her thoughts.

All was silent on the second floor, except for the gentle creaking of the door that stood between them. It was missing one of its hinges, and the knob was long gong, the wind rocked the wooden frame in a gentle dance. Kate knocked quietly. 

“Come in,” Arthur called. His voice sounded hoarse and tired.

Kate pushed the door open and stepped into the room. Arthur was sitting on the edge of the bed, his head bowed, lost in thought. The dim light from a single oil lantern cast a warm glow over his rugged features, highlighting the lines of weariness and worry etched into his face. He looked up as she entered, his eyes meeting hers with a mixture of surprise and something else—something deeper, more vulnerable.

She glanced around the room, noting how his things had been neatly unpacked by the others. A map lay sprawled across a large wooden crate, detailing their recent escapades and potential new routes. Old shelves were lined with gun ammo and other supplies. But it was the small china cabinet in the corner that drew her attention. Amongst the few items on display, there were two photographs. One was facing down.

Curiosity piqued, Kate picked up the photo and recognized the man in it – Arthur’s father. She placed it back down, hiding his old face in the darkness, and turned her attention back to Arthur.

“This place could use a woman’s touch,” she joked, trying to ease the tension in the air.

Arthur forced a chuckle, but his head hung low, elbows propped on his knees. He played with the frayed edges of his hat, a gesture Kate had come to recognize as one of his tell-tale signs when his mind was off in a darker place.

She sat down beside him, bumping her knee into his, trying to break through the heavy silence. She felt awkward, unsure what to say. Their emotions hung thick in the air, wrapping around them like a heavy blanket.

Arthur's eyes remained fixed on the worn brim of his hat, his voice low and rough. "You know," he began, "this old thing, it was my father's."

Kate glanced at him, her heart aching at the pain in his voice. She remained silent, giving him the space to continue. Arthur rarely spoke about his father, and she was curious about what had him in such sorrow.

“He died by the end of a rope when I was just a kid, but he lived longer than what was good for any of us,” Arthur sighed, flipping the old leather in his hands.

“He was an awful man. Hated me since the day I was born for bein’ another mouth to feed. Robbed everyone he could and spent all the money on booze. I don’t think I’ll ever forget the night he come home from a bar, reeking of rot-gut whiskey. He lost all his money in a game of poker, and took his anger out on my Ma. Blamed her for bein’ the reason we had no money. But I knew he did it because of me.”

Arthur blew a short huff out of his nose, shaking his head as if the memory of them was just a simple misunderstanding. “He took me that night, and I never saw Ma again.”

Kate gasped softly at what Arthur was insinuating. He had told her a few stories about his parents, but they were never painted in a good light. Arthur always said he didn't remember much about his mother. Her heart ached; he must have been so young to witness such violence.

Shifting his weight, the bed creaked softly. Subtly, almost unconsciously, he moved closer to Kate. Their shoulders brushing, Arthur's figure nearly leaned into her. “When I was old enough to be useful, he had me robbing folks ‘fore I could even feed myself. If I put up a fight, he would whoop my hide with some old leather chaps till I couldn’t walk.” Arthur breathed deeply; the memories still pained him.

“I tried to run away once, hid in some fellas' barn in the hay loft,” he chuckled bitterly. “Lyle nearly killed me when he found me. Told me if I ever thought ‘bout leaving again, he would put me in the ground with my mother.”

Kate couldn’t find the words to comfort him. It was too much to bear—the thought of Arthur, so young and innocent, being hurt in ways a child should never have to endure. To be raised without a mother, and a father who despised him. The abuse of power, as he was the only means of staying alive. Kate knew he had lived through hell. 

“Sometimes I wish they had put me up on that rope with him. Would’ve saved the world a lot of trouble,” he tossed the hat aside, landing on the ground with a soft whisper.

“Guess I ain’t too different from my old man.” Arthur sighed and leaned back against the wall behind his bed, looking defeated.

Kate gaped at him for a moment. How he could compare himself to such an evil man was beyond her. She looked between him and his hat, Lyle’s hat, and found herself wondering why he would keep such a thing—whether it was out of spite for his father or purely out of his own self-hatred. There was still so much about him she had yet to discover. So many scars that ran deeper than the ones Colm’s men had inflicted on him.

“I’ve met bad men. Truly evil men, Arthur,” Kate began, her voice gentle and reassuring. “But you are nothing like your father. That much I know is true.”

From the moment she said the words, she could tell Arthur wasn’t going to hear them. He had 36 years to make himself in his father’s image, on purpose or simply by his nature.

Arthur despised his father with a fervor that burned deep within him. Lyle Morgan had been a cruel, selfish man, leaving scars that never fully healed. Arthur’s childhood had been marred by violence and neglect, his father's shadow looming over every aspect of his life. The man had failed him in every conceivable way, shaping Arthur into the man he had become – a man who now felt he had no other choice but to follow in those very footsteps.

Kate had that determined look about her, like she could conquer the world if she willed it. Her unwavering strength was one of the many qualities Arthur had come to love about her. Kate was a good woman, and a loyal friend to her bones. It scared him how deeply he had fallen for her. His years with Mary felt lost to time, her decline at his proposal had hurt. But his heart had healed from rejection, and she remains alive. In the back of his mind, he knew the safest thing for her was to be far away from him. 

But now Kate is safe, Jack is home. The gang is out of trouble for the time being. But Arthur’s past regrets kept him locked in the dark. He often told the others that they can’t change the past, only move forward. But he found himself struggling to take his own advice. 

Arthur's eyes met hers, and she saw the trust and understanding shimmering within them. His gaze softened, yet the pain lingered. “I haven’t been completely honest with ya, darlin’,” Arthur finally spoke, his voice softening at the tone of endearment.

“Then tell me the truth. I’m here to listen,” Kate answered, trying to hide her restlessness. She was desperate to know what was eating him alive. It was obvious his pain ran deeper than her broken promise.

Arthur sighed and placed a hand on her thigh. Kate immediately placed her hand over his own. “Those stories I told you about Isaac, I… I wasn’t actually there for any of ‘em.” He said hesitantly. Kate nodded ever so slightly, encouraging him to continue.

In moments of introspection, Arthur felt the crushing weight of that legacy. His father had set him on this path, and despite his best efforts to forge a different future, Arthur found himself repeating the same cycle of failure and regret. His father had failed him, just as Arthur had failed his own son, Isaac. The boy had deserved a better life, a chance to grow up free from the violence and chaos that had defined Arthur’s world. Instead, Arthur’s own fears and inadequacies had sealed Isaac’s fate.

“After the kid was born, I didn’t want him raised with the gang. I didn’t want him ‘round that kinda trouble. So I put Eliza and her boy up in a cabin, not too far from where we was, but a safe distance. I promised her I would visit often, bringing her food and money. Whatever they needed.”

His fingers trembled slightly, and Kate gave them a squeeze. “As Isaac got older, he began askin’ about me, wantin’ to see me more. And… I don’t know. Guess I got scared. I was terrified he’d end up like me. Like my father. So I stopped visiting, and I never told Eliza why. She always wrote me letters, telling me stories about Isaac. But I never wrote her back, and then I lost every letter in Blackwater.”

He sighed deeply. Thinking about his first journal, the one he had carried with him for nearly a decade. All those memories, drawings, and letters were gone. Never to be graced by his eyes again. 

“The gang had a nasty run-in with the law. So we had to leave and stay hidden for a few months. When things died down, I was able to collect her letters from the post office. Eliza didn’t know if I was dead or alive and yet she begged me to come back, to visit Isaac, to send her money for food. In her last letter, she told me she had borrowed a small amount of money. They were desperate and out of options. I knew she didn’t have the means to pay them back.”

He sucked in a sharp breath. “I was only days too late. Some bastard had killed both her and my son over ten dollars.” Arthur closed his eyes and pressed a fist to his mouth. “Because I was too goddamn afraid of failing, I was too afraid to raise my own kid. So, I sent them to an early grave.” 

Arthur felt a wave of shame wash over him at the memory. Knowing that he had ruined other families, just like his own. When he was sent to collect the gang's money that was loaned out. The thought of his own actions made him sick. How Kate had stuck with him after the mess at Downes ranch was a mystery to him. 

Kate's breath caught in her throat as Arthur's words settled into the quiet room. Her heart ached for him, the weight of his past sins and regrets pressing down on her own soul. She had always known there was darkness in him, but hearing it laid bare, raw and unfiltered, shattered her. She understood why her broken promise and Jack’s disappearance had ravaged his emotions. And she felt a deeper understanding of the giant that often consumed him. 

Arthur’s fear of failure was an all-pervasive, mind-numbing, greedy serpent coiled deep in his belly. Devouring his strength and will. It changed his world from one of fleeting curiosities and riveting mischief to a cold, airless box. Suffocating and relentless, it whispered of past mistakes and potential losses, dragging him into a quagmire of self-doubt. Each breath felt like a battle, every decision a gamble with impossible stakes. The weight of his regrets, and the haunting memories of those he failed to protect, gnawed at his soul. He feared that every step he took might lead to another disaster, another life lost. And yet, despite the paralyzing dread, he pushed forward, driven by a desperate hope that was as old as his weary soul. 

Kate pulled him closer, her arms wrapping around him tightly, as if her embrace could somehow shield him from the pain of his memories. "Oh honey, I'm so sorry," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "But you didn't send them to their graves. You can't blame yourself for what happened. Life is cruel and unforgiving, no man can bear that kind of weight."

Arthur leaned into her embrace, his body trembling with the force of silent sobs. "But I do, Kate. I carry that shit with me deep in my chest. I failed them. I couldn’t protect my own family, and I’m terrified I’ll fail you too."

Kate pulled back slightly, cupping his face in her hands. "Arthur, look at me." His eyes met hers, filled with a deep sorrow that broke her heart. Dark blue eyes reflecting his desperate ache.

"You haven’t failed me. And I have faith that you never will. But I need you to trust me too. I need you to believe that I can handle myself, that I can be there for you just as much as you are for me."

Arthur shook his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I trust you. But the only way I can protect you is if I know you’re safe, if I know you’re not running off to find trouble without me at least knowing about it. I can’t bear the thought of losing you too. Not after everything."

Kate's heart swelled with love for the man before her, so strong and yet so vulnerable. Tears clung to her eyelashes, like shooting stars in the night sky. Threatening to fall down into their world.

She nodded, understanding the depth of his fear. "I promise, Arthur. I won’t run off without telling you first. But you have to promise me something too."

Arthur looked at her, his expression filled with a mixture of hope and fear. "Anything, darlin’."

"Promise me that you’ll let me stand by your side, no matter what. That you won’t try to push me away to protect me. We’re in this together, Arthur. And I want to be with you, through everything."

Arthur's eyes softened, and he nodded slowly. "I promise I will try."

Kate smiled through her tears, "that’s all I ask." She leaned in to press a soft kiss to his lips. Full of comfort and compassion. 

Arthur pulled away from her lips and took a deep breath, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. "Kate,” he whispered. His blue eyes searched hers, wondering how such a woman was created for him.

“I love you,” he breathed, the words heavy with the weight of his emotions. "I love you more than I ever thought I could love anyone."

Kate's heart soared at his confession, her eyes filling with tears once more. "I love you, Arthur.” Her voice breaks with the strength of her words. “More than you could imagine."

Arthur kissed her then, and it was like kissing a new man. A man who had shared the depths of his soul, bearing all of his broken and ugly parts. The kiss was slow and deliberate, every touch of their lips a promise of the love they had found in each other. A weight had been lifted from his shoulders, allowing the both of them to soar to new heights. As their lips moved together, the world outside ceased to exist, and in that moment, they were all that mattered.

The warmth of his hand on her cheek, the gentle pressure of his lips, and the soft whispers of their breaths intertwined, creating a cocoon of intimacy and connection. Kate felt the depth of his love in every touch, every caress, and she knew that despite the hardships they faced, they had found something truly worth fighting for, in each other.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate and Arthur sat together on the porch off his room, watching the full moon rise over the distant horizon. The night was calm, the air filled with the soft sounds of crickets and the gentle rustle of leaves. The flickering glow of lighting bugs danced across the night. The faint scent of blooming night orchid wafted through the air, mingling with the earthy smell of the surrounding bayou. A gentle breeze brushed against their skin, cool and refreshing.

Kate nestled comfortably in Arthur’s lap, her head resting against his chest. She could feel the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath her cheek, a rhythmic reminder of the man she loved. He smelled of tobacco, mixed with cedar and musk. A comforting and familiar scent. Her thumb brushed over the softness of his beard, savoring the quiet moments of peace they had carved out for themselves. She traced the lines of his jaw, feeling the strength and roughness of his skin, the evidence of a life hard-lived.

Arthur’s face was lit by a tender smile, his eyes reflecting the serene glow of the moon. The silver light cast soft shadows across his features, highlighting the creases and scars that told stories of battles fought and survived. He held her close, one arm wrapped securely around her waist, the other gently combing through her wind tousled hair. 

After a moment, he spoke up, breaking the comfortable silence. “I’m sorry, for what I said the other day,” he murmured, his deep voice soft and tinged with regret.

“Hmm?” Kate responded, her gaze shifting to meet his.

“Bout you leaving; how I wouldn’t stop you. I’m sorry I said that.” He clarified. 

Kate smiled tenderly. “You’re forgiven, Arthur. I knew you didn’t mean it,” she said, her voice gentle and soothing.

“Good. Cause you can bet if you try to leave me now, I’ll hog-tie ya and run away with you on the back of my horse,” he said with a playful grin, his blue eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh yeah? Is that a promise, cowboy?” she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Arthur chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Damn right it is.”

With that, Arthur pulled her closer, his lips attacking hers with playful, hungry kisses. He nipped gently at her lower lip, eliciting a soft giggle from Kate. His kisses trailed down her neck, each one filled with a mix of teasing affection and unspoken desire. Kate’s laughter mingled with the soft rustling of the night, her fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his assault of love, his touch igniting a warmth that spread through her entire being.

Kate sighed contentedly, her fingers tracing the line of his jaw. “I’m sorry too. For breaking your promise,” she said finally, composing herself and sitting up in his lap. “If it makes you feel any better, I found those boys who took you.”

Arthur’s expression grew serious, a flicker of surprise in his eyes. “I’d imagine you gave ‘em hell,” he spoke. “Still worries me that they saw your face though.”

Kate straightened herself and gave Arthur a serious look, “It’s not like we had time for introductions, besides, one of them already knew who I was. But they can’t hunt me from the grave, Arthur.” 

Arthur sighed and looked away from her for a moment, remembering the young O’Driscoll who had stolen his portrait of her. “Colm’s a dangerous man. I’m just worried he’ll use you against me. That’s all.”

Kate sank a little at his words, feeling guilt stir in her belly, “I understand.” 

As if sensing her regret, Arthur attempted to lighten her mood, “Oh, don’t give me that look sweetheart. Just invite me next time you’re making house calls and…” he hesitated, searching for the right words. “You didn’t have to do that for me, y’know.”

“I know,” she said softly. “Part of me was just being selfish,” she admitted, her voice tinged with a mix of guilt and embarrassment.

Arthur furrowed his brows in confusion and looked down at her, “Selfish ain’t quite the word I would use.”

Kate let out a breathy giggle, appreciating Arthur’s attempt to be sweet. Her heart throbbed at his recent confession, and she felt he deserved the truth behind her actions.

“It’s true. Ever since I lost my family I–” She suddenly felt a frog in her throat, and her face felt warm with oncoming tears. 

It was easy to talk about them, to talk about her grief with Arthur. To share memories of her loved ones was as simple as breathing. She could paint vivid pictures of her family's laughter, the warmth of their embrace, and the love that had once filled her life. It was a way to keep them alive in her heart, to ensure they were never truly gone. But what was hard was admitting how her strength and resolve were merely a facade, covering up the darker parts of her. The parts desperate to regain some semblance of control in her life.

Kate's past was marred by tragedy and loss. The day she lost her husband and child had shattered her world. She remembered the suffocating grief, the unbearable weight of their absence. But fate wasn’t satisfied with her loved ones, it took a piece of her as well the day she was taken prisoner. In the aftermath, she had vowed never to feel that powerless again. She built walls around her heart, armor made of determination and resolve. To the world, she appeared strong and unyielding, a woman who could handle anything thrown her way. But beneath that facade lay a deep-seated fear.

“I’m terrified of feeling powerless again,” she continued. Arthur listened closely to her every word. “Unable to save my loved ones or save myself.”

She paused, her voice catching as she fought to continue. “It’s like this relentless force driving me, this need to control everything around me. I’m afraid, Arthur. I’m afraid of losing you, afraid of losing everyone I care about.”

Arthur’s eyes softened with understanding, his hand gently brushing a strand of hair from her face. Kate took a deep breath, her fingers tracing the lines of Arthur’s face as if trying to memorize every detail.

“It’s been so hard on my own. I’ve spent so long pretending to be strong, convincing myself that if I can control things, I won’t get hurt again. But it’s exhausting, and it’s not real. The truth is I am not a strong woman, just a scared one.”

This need for control was consuming her. It left her anxious and restless, always on edge, always waiting for the next disaster. Kate's journey had been a solitary one. She had relied on herself for so long, she had forgotten how to lean on others. Her independence was both her strength and her weakness. It kept her moving forward, but it also kept her isolated. She had been so focused on surviving, on maintaining her semblance of control, that she had forgotten what it meant to truly live.

“No,” Arthur sat up abruptly and gripped her hands. “No, Kate, that is not true. You’re bein’ too hard on yourself.” His voice was firm but gentle, filled with a reassurance that made her lips tremble. Silent tears ran down her cheeks as she absorbed his words.

“Goddammit woman. I don’t ever want to hear you speak like that,” Arthur's voice was stern, like he was scolding a child, but it was laced with overwhelming support and love. “You can be both. You understand me? I’m scared too, darlin’. I promise you, I’m just as scared. But that don’t mean you ain’t strong. You’ve done so much for this gang, for me.”

Kate looked into his eyes, feeling the intensity of his conviction. Meeting Arthur had changed everything. He saw through her facade, saw the pain and fear she tried so hard to hide. With him, she didn't have to pretend. She could be vulnerable, could share the darkness that lurked within her. It was terrifying, but it was also liberating. For the first time in years, she felt like she could breathe.

Arthur's grip on her hands tightened as he continued, his voice a soft rumble. “The devil may have dealt you some nasty cards, but you faced that fire and you came out stronger. You’re one of the bravest people I know, Kate. When I look at you I am filled with pride knowing how brave and compassionate my woman is.”

Kate's tears flowed freely now, not from sadness, but from the relief of being understood, of being accepted for all that she was. She leaned into Arthur, resting her head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“I love you, Arthur Morgan.” Her voice felt tiny in his presence. Kate couldn’t find the words to express how much Arthur meant to her, but in her heart she knew he understood. 

Arthur squeezed her tight to his chest, resting his chin atop her head. “And I love you, Kate McCanon.”

As she sat with Arthur on the porch, the moon casting a gentle glow over them, Kate realized that she didn't have to face her fears alone. She didn't have to be in control all the time. She had Arthur by her side, and he had her by his. She could let go, if only a little, and trust that he would catch her if she fell.

A/N: I know this chapter was super dialogue heavy. But tbh I just love writing conversations lmao. I particularly enjoyed the segment with John, he’s just a fun character to write. I was intending to end the chapter with Arthur’s confession about his father/son. But then i was like nah i really think Kate should open up about this too. It’s time to air out the dirty laundry, you know XD

Anyways. Big things coming my friends. If my little ADHD brain can work with me next chapter will be incredibly steamy. Lots of smut. It’s about damn time!! It’ll be a longer chapter, as there’s some other characters I’ve been neglecting for a while. And I’m also going to another wedding! So I’ll be gone for a few days, and I’ll be working on it when I get back.

Thanks for reading guys :)

[veenus777]

◜𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 & 𝐌𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐬 & 𝐒𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐬◞

          ┊ ᝰ﹕For a long time, I’ve had this playlist about Jason that I created based on some specific universes and scenarios, and now I associate all of them with him and specific situations. Anyway, I decided to share a little about it with you.

          ┊ ᝰ﹕The following words were written by a woman with insomnia during an anxiety-filled and obsessive night about Jason Todd.

♧ Electric Love

This song makes me feel like I'm in a specific scenario where Jay and the reader are just riding a motorcycle on one of their outings through Gotham, without any specific destination. I imagine the sun setting and giving way to the city lights at night while they just speed off towards nowhere.

♤ Go To Hell

This one is a bit more specific to the Vigilante universe. It happens right after they meet again following Jay’s death and all the drama of Red Hood vs. Batman. Jason rejoins the team, but the reader has already moved on or at least tries to, despite Jason's constant presence by their side. So, after a successful mission, they decide to have a happy hour with some of the older team members like Babs, Dick, Luke, and Kate. The reader ends up meeting one of their flings while Jason ends up drinking too much. I feel this song is exactly what’s going through his head the whole time.

♧ End Game

First of all, I’d like to make it clear that this song is definitely the song for Jason and Vigilante. There simply isn’t a better definition of them than this. Okay, just imagine Jay alongside another vigilante with a turbulent past and questionable morals, who is equal to or worse than him in ruthlessness. They simply become the royalty of Gotham’s underworld. Criminals would shudder just hearing about them because they know how bad they were separately, but together, they are completely unbeatable.

♤ Adiós

This one is short and quite similar to Electric Love, but different at the same time. In this, Jason and the vigilante are riding a motorcycle through Gotham, the reader on the back while Red Hood pops a wheelie on the wet asphalt of rainy Gotham. That night, there was a small breakout in one of the smaller prisons, nothing as serious as Arkham but still dangerous. So, the whole team spreads out across the city looking for the criminals. The adrenaline is strong while shooting at criminals at high speed, and Jason’s hand on your thigh to congratulate you on a job well done.

♧ Love Me Harder

This one is extremely specific and also takes place in the Vigilante universe. Jay and the reader were sent on a mission to Tokyo, which wasn’t uncommon as they had to travel frequently. They end up staying in a cheap hotel that served as a great hideout for them. By this point, they are already a couple. In fact, I feel this is where things change for both of them in their relationship. The mission ends well and ahead of schedule, but they decide to stay and enjoy the beauty of Tokyo, going out at night, trying foods, or buying silly things at fairs, just being young and in love on a trip without any external worries.

♤ Harleys In Hawaii

This story happens when Jason, finally, after much insistence from the reader, decides to take a vacation. And nothing is better than a hotel in Hawaii, in which Bruce is one of the partners, far away from Gotham and vigilantism. So, the next two weeks are summarized by boat rides along the coast, diving, hiking, and romantic seaside encounters with a tanned Jason, with his sculpted and tattooed body under the Hawaiian sun.

♤ Dark Paradise

This story takes place in two scenarios at the same time, where the reader is a classical dancer. The reader is in their dance studio, rehearsing late at night to relax and relieve the weight of their feelings. "Dark Paradise" plays on the sound system while they spin and leap around the mirrored room, but their mind travels to the previous night, where another Wayne gala took place. All the pomp and candlelight created an ethereal atmosphere with Jason there. He hated balls but knew the reader would be present. So, there he was, in a well-tailored suit, his eyes fixed on the reader as they entered the ballroom, almost hypnotically. The rest of the night was filled with tension and small "accidental" touches everywhere.

♧ Valentine

This is a simple yet extremely cute story, where Jay takes the reader to a carnival that was passing through Gotham that weekend. And it is nothing but intoxicatingly cute. They go through all the rides, and Jay makes sure to win the biggest teddy bear at the shooting gallery. They eat junk food and laugh idiotically as they walk, with Jay’s strong arms around the reader’s shoulders. They end the night on the Ferris wheel, having a perfect view of Gotham's lights. When they head back home, their hands are full of prizes and photos taken in photo booths.

♤ Marry You

This story came about because of a one-shot I read here once and simply could never get out of my head (I really don’t remember the author’s name, but if you know, please leave the name of this heaven-sent angel in the comments). The scenario is basically this: Jay and the vigilante are on a mission in Vegas, and things almost get out of control, but it ends with a "if we survive, will you marry me?". And they do survive. They look for a chapel the next day, wearing simple clothes and nothing but each other and an Elvis-dressed officiant. For them, it is simply perfect. Everything happens with lots of smiles and loving gazes. Afterward, they just enjoy the Vegas gambling and casinos (let’s completely ignore the song lyrics, okay? Just feel the vibe).

.˚｡  💋 .˚｡ 💌

[princess-of-the-corner]

In any AU where Chloé is absolutely, completely done: gets alumatized into Queen Bloom and seed bombs Paris. In some places that she loves, it's paradise perfect. In some places that she hates, it's full on Poison Ivy. At one point, one or more hero gets caught in a Poison Ivy section and gets treated like a toy in the hand of a child. Hawk Moth does his best to ensure he didn't accidentally get caught in the bombing and makes plans to ensure there are no leaks in his hideout for future akumas

Hell yeah hell yeah hell yeah

[nthspecialll]

Why do people say the rdr1 mission "we shall be together in paradise" was referring to bill and Javier?

I have never actually heard anyone say this but I got some ideas as to why it could be.

Firstly, in the mision prior John breaches Fort Mercer which was Bill's hideout, only to find out that Bill actually left the morning before with the help of Javier Escuella, the two of them escaping to Mexico, more specifically Nuevo Paraiso, which translates to "New Paradise."

Thus thus quite literally when Bill and Javier fled together to Nuevo Paraiso, they together fled to Paradise together.

That is my guess, but there might be some bibical neuance that I am not understanding because I ain't religious and this is a religious reference. Something with the theif entering paradise at the same day as Jesus, but none of the rdr characters can be pure enough to symbolise Jesus, so idk.