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darylandbethfanforever9 · 3 years

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Devil’s Backbone

Devil’s Backbone

Chapter 3

AN: I hope everyone is enjoying the story so far, and thank you everyone who has commented, reblogged or liked the story :)

Story Rating: Explicit, 18+

Warnings: Smut, violence, flashbacks of past sexual assault, descriptions of torture and racial hate. Not Tony Stark friendly.

Relationships: Bucky/OC, Steve/Natasha, Billy/Wanda/Grant, Sam/Sharon, Clint/Laura, eventual Clint/Yelena and Frank/Karen Page.

Summary: In the aftermath of the Blip, Bucky struggled to find his place among the world and the Avengers. However, when he is sent on a mission to Madripoor to investigate a mysterious woman, he starts to realize maybe his past isn’t too far behind him. Co-Written with WalkingPotterGirl14.

The girls at the Red Room would whisper about the Winter Soldier. He was a ghost story, a tale whispered to keep them in line by warning them if they didn't succeed in the classes or missions, that the soldat would creep into their room and kill them.

She remembered seeing those cold eyes watching her and over girls when he had come to the academy to train one of their classes. He had thrown a young girl called Polina Paseka across the room after she failed four times to do a pirouette in ballet class.

She frowned as she tried to make sense of how the Winter Soldier had escaped the Red Room. It was rare when someone was able to make it out, almost impossible. She decided to call Carter and inquire about the soldier. Her interest was piqued by the man. Maybe she would know something.

Bucky and the others returned to the compound to inform Fury about the black ops team that the Power Broker had sent to kidnap Isaiah and Eli Bradley. The man must have been hellbent on creating the serum after Zemo destroyed the ones that Dr. Nadler had created. "Hill is identifying the people who were sent to kidnap Isaiah and his grandson. Two of them have already been identified," Fury announced grimly. He pulled up two images of two men, one of whom that Bucky recognized instantly. Jack Rollins. He knew him from being there at the Ideal Federal Savings bank when he had his mind wiped by Pierce after trying to kill Steve, Sam and Natasha in Washington D.C. "You might remember the guy on the left, Barnes and Rogers. That is Jack Rollins, former member of the STRIKE Team. After fleeing the U.S., he settled in Madripoor and began working as a mercenary for the highest bidder. Tomas Calderon is a former S.H.I.E.L.D agent, who was fired after killing a group of Inhuman refugees in Nairobi, Kenya," Fury explained gravely. He paused for a moment before glancing their way. "Rogers, Wilson, I want you to ask Carter if she knows how long this mystery young woman has been living in Madripoor. See if there's a gang war brewing over a power struggle. Barnes, Barton and Maximoff, I want you three to talk to Russo, Karen Page, Murdock, and Curtis Hoyle. See what they know about the Power Broker," the director instructed. They nodded and all left.

The first thing Ana decided to do was renovate the whole damn penthouse that the Power Broker owned. She ordered new bedding, a new mattress, and a nice bed frame. There was no way in hell she was sleeping in his bed. She followed suit with the rest of the apartment, glad to have all this control now. The next thing she did was arrange a meeting with all the criminals who lived in Madripoor. She was putting down some rules. She was no saint - far from it - but no way in hell was she tolerating slavery, sex trafficking, and fucking child molesters and pedophiles. She knew Madripoor thrived on crime, but she was going to be instilling some rules for everyone. She personally called off the bounties on the Winter Soldier, the Falcon and Baron Zemo, from what she had heard around. She had no quarrel with them at the minute. Her main focus was going to be ensuring the Red Room remained shut down. She didn't want anyone else to go through what she had gone through. No child deserved that horror. The buzzer rang then, and she answered the call immediately. She had a feeling that a few of them were going to be aggravating. But she had dealt with worse people. "Miss Liukin, this is Conrad Mack. You wish to speak with me about a beneficial arrangement between us?" The man asked politely. She smiled slightly. "Please come in, Mr. Mack," she said smoothly. The door was unlocked and locked behind him. She might have her bodyguards, but she wasn't defenseless by herself if Conrad decided to play dirty. Two could play at that game. Conrad Mack entered the living room. He was a handsome man in person. He had dark brown eyes, but there was a sharpness in them, like an eagle, always watching. He was wearing casual, but smart clothing. "Mr. Mack, it's a pleasure to meet with you. I've heard a lot of things about you," Ana said warmly. The man offered her a charming smile that showed perfect white teeth. "The pleasure is all mine, Miss Liukin. I have to say that I'm impressed by your bloodless takeover of Madripoor. If you don't mind me asking, what inspired you to take over Madripoor from the Power Broker?" She smiled at his question, as she sipped from her glass of red wine and Conrad drank from his glass of whisky. The man was a gangster, but he did have morals. She decided to give him some of the truth. "The Power Broker wished to recreate the Super Soldier serum after Baron Zemo destroyed the vials that Karli Morgenthau stole from him. But he wanted me to kidnap a man called Isaiah Bradley and his grandson…I presume you know who he is?" she asked meaningfully. Conrad nodded, his smile turning to a grimace. "Yeah, I know who he is. My grandaddy fought with him in World War II. The US government threw him in jail and took his blood. He escaped during the eighties and settled down in Baltimore," the man said bitterly, well aware of America's racial discrimination against African-Americans. Ana nodded at his answer as she looked at the Monet art that decorated the walls. She disliked racists fiercely. "Then you understand why the Power Broker had to go, Conrad?" He lets out a quiet nod at that. "As I've said before, I'm not a saint. I've done some horrible things. But I draw the line at people dragging innocents back into their dirty hands. For years I had no control of what I was able to do, and now that I do, you can bet I'm going to make sure that no one else gets hurt like that." Conrad smiles to that. "That's very noble of you." Ana snorts and shakes her head. "Not noble. It's called being a human. However,…I'm not a good person too. And the reason we're here is because of that." She comes over to him, leaning against her chair. "I know about your little business on the side here. You thrive from the drug community here, don't you?" "If we're being honest, it is one of, if not the most, profitable business you can have in Madripoor." "On the brink of a collapse the city would be if that whole system decided to go belly-up," Ana states, holding her glass in her hands. "Which is why I'm willing to offer a truce with you. An agreement, of sorts. If you keep a low profile and continue your business, I'll make sure it can still run with the people here and the cops won't be on your ass. I know how hard it can be to stay on the downlow but I'm willing to compromise on that as long as your guys don't interfere with what I'm trying to do." Conrad raises an eyebrow. "You're very interesting, you know that?" She raises an eyebrow back at him. "How so?" "You're like the opposite version of what you say you are. You're trying to be good but also trying to keep crime going…it's a strange contradiction, if you will." Ana shrugs her shoulders, walking over to where he sits. "We all have our contradictions. But the main part here is making sure your business can still run despite those contradictions. So…" She holds out her hand to him. "Do we have a deal?" Conrad looks at her hand for a split second before extending outwards, shaking it firmly. "We have a deal."

Talking with Karen, Frank, Matthew and Foggy had gone about as well as Bucky had been expecting. They didn't know that much about the Power Broker except for the fact that he just wanted to have as much power as possible, simple as that. They had stumbled into them when Fisk had gone away to jail, leaving his powerful empire in the city free for the taking. Due to the power vacuum, the Power Broker had tried to break in.

But luckily, they had come in at the right moment to stop him from taking over, before he had escaped off to Madripoor. Bucky truly wondered what went through this man's mind to make him think like that, that he could suddenly own everyone just because one man got arrested. But then again, the man was clearly unstable. If he wanted to still create more and more super-solder serums for the world to use…there was no way he would allow that. Secretly, Bucky really hoped this new mysterious woman had killed the Power Broker. Hell, maybe even taken over herself. If she was willing to help Sharon out and let them know about Isiah, she at least had some sort of morals compared to the original man. But he also had a feeling that Fury, if he did find out who this woman was, was most likely going to send them after her. So maybe he'd get the chance to meet her after all. A part of him still couldn't believe that he had seen Ana at a coffee shop…it was such a small world. A part of her still felt so familiar, and at the same time he couldn't remember where he had seen her before. He was thankful that the Wakandan's had gotten out all the trigger words in his mind but damn it, he wished he had his whole mind back. Something he would just have to live with for now.

Was this a stupid idea? Probably. Could Fury walk in at any moment? Most likely. But Natasha needed to know. She had to know if this woman was alive truly or not. Maybe she would get lucky, and they would be able to swing around this situation. Maybe the woman who had come into the facility wasn't even close to her. When Nat and Yelena had destroyed the Red Room area, they had been able to access their system remotely to be able to view who had died and who had lived from the program. She had never checked for her to see if she was still around. But this time was better than no time. She typed in the name quickly, searching through the files before she lands on the one, she had wanted. And her shoulders sink as soon as she reads through the file on the computer screen. 'Anastasia Liukin. Dead – complications of operation.' "Oh, thank God," Natasha breathes out, running her hand through her hair. This at least said that she was gone. Maybe she would be able to get out of this alive. But something still didn't sit right. A part of her didn't think that she was dead. If it wasn't her…then who? She bites her lip, glancing deeper into the file.

"Fuck it," she said finally, before delving further into the files. She found information on Anastasia about the year she was born. The young woman had been born on July 10, 1995 in Voronezh, Voronezh Oblast, Russia in the aftermath of the Soviet Union collapsing. Her mother had died when she was five years old, and she had no one else to raise her. She was then placed in an orphanage until the age of seven when the Red Room had approached her under the illusion of being taken to a ballet boarding school. There were no other records of her aside from the file about her dying from an operation. The reasons for the operation were redacted, but deep-down Natasha knew the reason. 'I had to do it. I had to protect Yelena. She was too soft for the Red Room despite all the training we put her through,' she thought rationally, ignoring the pang of guilt that pulsed through her.

Sharon was honestly trying to keep herself calm as she drove to the penthouse that was owned by the Power Broker. She hadn't seen the mysterious woman again, but she had told Sharon to call her Ana. Now, she was driving there and was stunned by the sight before her very eyes. The building itself was amazing and very spacious, but the apartment was even better. She was shown into the penthouse by a bodyguard and kept her face neutral as she was greeted by none other than Ana. "You wanted to see me?" She asked politely. Ana smiled at her calmly as Sharon sat down on the comfortable black velvet sofa. The living room was very spacious but had a homey-vibe around it. There were framed photographs on the mantelpiece. "Yes. I was wondering if I could buy some of the Art Deco paintings and sculptures in your art gallery?" Ana asked curiously. Sharon blinked in surprise but nodded and leaned forward. "I'll be happy to sell you them, Miss Liukin," she said reassuringly, stunned that the woman wasn't going to kill her for helping Bucky, Sam and Zemo escape from the Power Broker. Speaking of the man, she hadn't seen him around Madripoor for the last couple of days. She wondered if finally, someone had killed him for having too much control and power. Considering Ana was in his penthouse, she had quite the feeling it had something to do with her, since the man had been tied up by her not that long ago. "Then I'll see you tomorrow morning. I'll enjoy doing business with you, Sharon," Ana said kindly, her voice genuine. Sharon nodded as they both walked out, seeing that the whole penthouse was being renovated. At Sharon looking, Ana smiled as she put her bottle of water down on the coffee table. "This penthouse belonged to the Power Broker, and it didn't give a welcoming feel. So, I decided to have the whole house renovated, including an indoor ballet studio, along with an indoor swimming pool, a library, and many bedrooms," the woman explained amusedly. Sharon smiled before saying goodbye and Ana watched her leave. She had to admit, it seemed the women had the strength to stay around – and wasn't planning on leaving anytime soon.

Bucky was annoyed with himself. He felt like he had seen Ana before and not at the coffee shop. It was irritating to say the very least, as he walked to the conference room, where Fury was holding a team meeting. He entered the room, sitting next to Steve, Sam, Clint and Wanda as Billy and Grant joined them. He wasn't surprised to see Scott Lang and Hope van Dyne being in the room but was wary about seeing Bruce and Tony in the room. Both of them, along with Natasha and Yelena, despised him. He didn't blame Natasha for hating him - he had tried to kill her three times, and had attempted to apologize, but she had refused his apology. "Now that you're all here, I have news about the mystery woman who infiltrated the compound. We ran her through Interpol, MI6, FBI, and the S.H.I.E.L.D database and found nothing on her. She's unknown to us," Fury explained gravely, his face betraying nothing. "So, what you want us to do then? It's pretty obvious that she's dangerous if she escaped the HYDRA base, and they had her in cyrostasis," Tony questioned suspiciously. It was Steve spoke up. "That doesn't necessarily mean that she's dangerous, Tony. She's most like been forcibly placed in cyrostasis. We did uncover some possible information," Steve informed Fury, who looked interested as he looked at the man. "What did you and the team find out then?" The director inquired curiously. He was clearly wondering if the young woman was a threat to them. "We did some digging - plus Sharon called us this morning. The Power Broker might possibly be dead, as he's not been seen for at least three days. He was last seen Monday night, and had arranged to meet a young woman to discuss kidnapping Isaiah and Eli Bradley, so he could use their blood to recreate the Super-Soldier serum. According to Sharon, the young woman refused to comply, and a fight broke out," Steve explained quietly, his voice not quite disapproving at the young woman's actions and possibly murdering the Power Broker. "She was the person who told Sharon about the attack on Isiah." Fury looked thoughtful and looked around at everyone who was sitting at the table. Natasha and Yelena were silent, but they were clearly hiding something. "Is there something you'd like to add, Belova and Romanoff?" he asked calmly. Natasha nodded. "There is something I'd like to add, Fury." Natasha stands as she grabs the file of Ana, placing it on the table. "I did some digging on this girl with the file that we found in the HYDRA base in Siberia. As the ones who shut down the Red Room and the areas surrounding it, we are allowed remote access to the former directory of agents that we've had interactions with. It turns out that Ana has actually died from an operation due to unforeseen circumstances," Natasha states. "At least that was what her records state." "Hold on." Bucky stands from where he was, gesturing to the file. "That's impossible. We've been doing our own research and there has been some steady evidence that she's still alive." "Barnes, I remember her. She's gone." "That's impossible because I saw her literally days ago," Bucky says angrily, but he holds back his temper to a point. He didn't want to let go of his own morals because Nat's words contradicted his own. Her brow raises in shock. "You're-wait, what? How the hell did you-" "She was in a coffee shop," Bucky states, crossing his arms against his chest. "A couple days ago before heading off. I didn't learn the girl's name, but she looked exactly like Ana. There's no mistaking it." "You're insane, she's gone!" "No, she's not!" "ENOUGH!" Fury yells, his booming voice causing them to jump in surprise. They both turn their eyes to where Fury was breathing heavily, his head down, clearly trying to control his own temper. He takes a moment before looking at the two of them. "Sit both your asses down now!" The two Avengers do as he says, knowing that if they pissed him off even more there'd be more than just yelling coming their way. Fury starts to pace before he looks to them. "From what I see, we have several problems here. One is-" His phone suddenly pings, and he pulls it out quickly to glance at it before cursing under his breath. "Now we got even more problems," he mutters, putting his phone back in his pocket. "Just got word from H.Q. Apparently, the original Power Broker is officially dead." Silence rings throughout the room. Bucky knew it. He just knew it.

"Again, now we got even more problems," Fury continues, running a hand along his head before looking to them. "One, we have some mysterious woman that broke into our damn base and now is missing. Two, we have a power dynamic clearly underway in Madripoor, and another young woman there that we don't know about looking to take over. Third, we have two goddamn conflicting arguments about a girl that we don't even know about. There’re too many things here for us to even come to a proper conclusion. I'm over this fighting that we got going." "Then what do you suggest we do, sir?" Natasha asks, raising her brow. Fury sighs and then nods back at the team. "What we do best – undercover. But there ain't no way I'm sending a whole team after this girl. If the Power Broker is dead, that means she's a serious threat, regardless if she'll hurt us or not. She's got friends in high places. Only one of you are fit enough to do a proper undercover mission of this high of a status." His eyes turn directly to where Bucky was. "And that's you, Barnes." His brow raises in surprise. "Me?" "I can't think of someone better than the former Winter Soldier. It can't be Nat or Yelena with personal ties to this said mystery woman, but we don't know how much she knows about you possibly. It's the best option for us going forward. I'm not about to let any other goddamn intruder come in, so we need to find out who this woman is as soon as possible, and if she's taking over as the Power Broker." Bucky was quiet for a moment, letting his words mingle. He wasn't wrong. He most likely would be able to find her the quickest and see exactly who this woman was. "Plus, you've literally seen her before," Steve agrees lightly. "If anything, that'll only help you try and find her again." "I think he's got this," Sam states, agreeing. Bucky rolls his eyes and glances at his friends. "It's alright, guys. I'm fine." He always knew that the ones who were on his side tried their best to show their support for him, but something he just wanted to prove it himself. He turns back to Fury. "I can do that, sir." "Good, glad to hear it." Fury stands and grabs the file. "You leave as early as tomorrow. We want to make sure we handle this with care but as quickly as possible. Don't want to linger any longer. Pack your belongings – I'll inform Sharon that you're heading to Madripoor and you're undercover there." "Sounds good," Bucky responds, standing. "Meeting adjourned," Fury concludes, getting up and heading out, pulling his phone as he does so. Bucky hears Tony groan as he stands, sighing. "He's making a mistake sending you out." "Tony, we don't need this right now," Steve responds, trying to shut down the fight before it even began. "How can you even trust him to do a good job? He was literally part of HYDRA, the place that this mysterious woman is even coming from!" "So are Nat and Yelena and you trust them," Wanda points out from where she stands. "They at least had a head on their shoulders to sign the damn accords." Steve sighs and shakes his head. "I'll never be able to prove to you that Bucky is a good man, but that's your loss. It's not like I'm not surprised Nat is on your side after she did what she did." At Nat's confused expression, Steve snorts. "Don't show me that look, Nat. I know that you agreed with Tony to lock Bucky up is a psych unit even before he was pardoned. I know you don't want him here just as much as Tony doesn't. You don't need to say anything." Bucky runs a hand through his hair stressfully. Good god, this wasn't how he wanted his mission to start out.

#Bucky Barnes x OC #Bucky Barnes faniction #Dark Bucky Barnes #steve rogers/natasha romanoff

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libraryofloveletters · 4 years

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Rating CM Couples Because I’m Bored

*I think I put everyone that I can remember in here but if I'm forgetting someone, let me know!*

A/N: these are in no specific order and yes I know you didn’t ask for this but too bad :) also spoilers are in there if you have’t seen the whole thing!

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Aaron and Haley

The high school sweethearts storyline was cute

Great parents

I still think she was cheating, it was a little shady that her phone rang right after he got off the landline

“Make sure he knows you weren’t always so serious” or whatever she said was sweet

Her death didn’t cause tears but seeing Hotch cry out her death did cause tears

Feel like her storyline could have ended better, they didn’t really need to kill her but they did it for the ✨razzle dazzle✨

Maybe they could have gotten a divorce and been great co-parents

Overall: 8/10 (her dying was a shitty end)

Gideon and Sarah (the lady from the cabin)

Very short storyline

She made him happy

The dance scene in the cabin in Fisher King pt.1 was adorable

Would have like to seen more of her

Overall: 10/10 (they were the least problematic couple)

JJ and Will

Love them

Will is non-problematic (stan him for clear skin)

Their family is adorable

He’s a great father (literally put his job on hold and moved states for her to continue her job after Henry)

She could have definitely treated him better

Could have included their other kid more, it’s always about Henry

Will is always about JJ, JJ tends to wander ? (the je*d situation)

Overall: 7/10 (cause of the je*d situation and they could have made the storyline better)

Spencer and Mauve

Again, short and shitty storyline

There was so much more that could have been done here (like maybe let him be happy for once??)

In suspense for the longest time about the secret phone calls and when Mauve was finally introduced, we got like 2 minutes of proper screen time with her

Their little dance was cute

Her death was absolute bullshit

She tells Spencer that she loves him on the phone and he's in shock so he doesn't say it back, then she hangs up

When he finally sees her in person, she’s minutes away from her death

He had to tell her that he didn’t love her even thought he did (at least it seemed like he did)

Bringing her back in season 15 was nice so we had some closure ?? (but why was she blonde ? they have hair salons in heaven ??)

Overall: 6/10 (hated the way it ended :( )

Derek and Savannah

Savannah was the perfect woman for Derek. She’s smart, has a good job with a weird schedule (like his), not to mention gorgeous

But making him settle down with the first woman he really showed interest in, didn't make sense

If he had a previous relationship that didn’t work and then introduced Savannah, it would have made sense

They were well suited, personality and looks wise

Would have liked to seen their wedding

He got married and we didn’t even get to see it :(

The way their storyline ended was a mess ??

He gets kidnapped and when she gets him back, she gets shot and they almost lose the baby, then Morgan almost gets himself killed again and barely got back in time for the birth

Overall: 8/10 (could have been better written but they were cute)

Matt and Kristy

Unproblematic favs

King and Queen shit

Great parents

Love love love their storyline, from CMBB to CM, it was all around good

They’re both hot and educated

I don’t understand where they had make to make a 5th kid when he’s never home, she’s a lawyer (that has to be time consuming) and 4 children to take care of

Their love as always on display, seen the rawest version of it in 13x19

Overall: 10/10 (love them)

Penelope and Kevin

The shower scene when Rossi went to her apartment was the peak scandalous moment for them

Her wants and needs were too much for him to handle

She was super independent and he wanted her to do what he wants in a way

The whole marriage plot was dropped real quick

He wanted a farm ?? (if I remember correctly) and she didn’t want that

The end of their relationship was weird

They had that moment at JJ and Will’s wedding and then that was it ?? He kinda just vanished after ?

Overall: 5/10 (average couple)

Derek and Penelope

Top tier

Would have be a power couple if they got together (already a power couple but would have officially been one)

The way they look at each other

The way the protect each other, especially him with her

They’re in love you can’t tell me otherwise

If they weren’t in love, why would he come back to the BAU and only see her ?

They probably hooked up on the lows

There was a lot of potential here

“You’re my god given solace” 🥺🥺🥺🥺

Overall: 10/10 (my favourites!!)

Spencer and Derek

Cute cute cute

That’s been there since day one

They always had a playful relationship but Derek was always protecting him, no matter what

Although Spencer wasn't physically capable of defending, he still tried in his own way

Their relationship has grown a lot since season 1

“we’ll be bound together through space and time and some day, in another life, we will meet again” “I'll be waiting for you” like come on, in love.

there was a lot of potential here too

Overall: 9/10 (-1 cause it didn’t actually happen)

Aaron and Emily

Could definitely see the tension between them

There was 100% chemistry there

They both think alike, they’re very critical thinkers which for obvious reasons wouldn’t have works

Would have been cute tho

In 4x03, you could see the worry on his face when she was inside. It was more than a boss/subordinate worry, he genuinely cares about her

Overall: 7/10 (could have been better)

JJ and Spencer

Would have maybe made sense if they introduced it season 1-2

Didn’t make sense after she was married and had 2 kids

The confession she gave him felt forced (under the circumstances, they were but still)

The awkwardness after was weird, like you’re telling me the team and Will didn’t pick up on it at he wedding ?

Overall: -1/10 (je*d)

Tara and Daryl

The moments they had were sweet afterwards like their hug

They both had grown a lot since their marriage

It was very mature of her to be happy for him after they split (she’s cool like that)

Very short storyline

Overall: 6/10 (they were very normal)

JJ and Emily

Elite

Would have a power couple if the writers had actually put them together

should have confessed to Spencer that she loved Emily and not him

All their moments were adorable

Hot moms and Co parent Will (would have been so cute)

Overall: 9/10 (power couple)

Emily and Andrew

Short storyline

Kinda pointless ?

Felt super last minute and rushed

Their dinner date was cute

Overall: 5/10 (they were eh, could have been written better)

Luke and Lisa

They were cute

Again a very short storyline

She was very determined to make Luke talk about his feelings (kinda pointless ?? he’d talk when he as ready)

Should have called it quits after Phil died

Wasn’t needed to drag it along, but they did and we didn’t even see her?? They just kept mentioning her

Overall: 6/10 (average couple)

Luke and Penelope

Adorable

Would have loved to see this storyline start earlier

Maybe get to see the date ??

Their little flirting/bantering was cute

There was definitely chemistry there

Overall: 8/10 (super cute)

Spencer and Max

This felt so rushed

She was there for 2 episodes

Dragging her into the Cat plot was shit

It was nice to see him happy tho

Would have liked to seen her nephew again, he was funny

Overall: 5/10 (didn't really like this)

Aaron and Beth

This was cute

They made each other happy

She was good with Jack

Understanding about his job (unlike miss haley 🙄)

Would have to seen this go somewhere else

Her taking the job in Hong Kong was just a shitty end for their relationship

Overall: 7/10 (could have ended better, at least she didn’t die)

Rossi and Carolyn

This was sweet

Her death was sad, it was clear he still cared about her

She was only there for like 2-3 (??) episodes

Overall: 6/10 (unproblematic but normal)

Rossi and Hayden

This was also cute

Joy was the only good thing from this marriage ??

Them dating for like half a minute was weird

Making Rossi say that racist ass comment after he was literally married to beautiful woman of colour was stupid

Overall: 6/10 (average couple)

Rossi and Krystall

Loved them together

Their little sneaky links were hilarious

Miss Krystall is a bad bitch

She’s super supportive

Overall: 8/10 (my favourites out of Rossi’s wives)

Rossi and Strauss

Hilarious together, it was cute

Rossi was always on her ass, he did what he wanted

Her death was kinda shitty, Rossi cared about her tho

Reid and Garcia bumping into him and then seeing her was funny

Overall: 6/10 (ended badly)

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chaoticfriendship · 4 years

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This is not hate but how can you support someone like pewdiepie after all hes done? I feel like it's wrong to put him with Jack because sometimes i feel like jacks his friend only because he feels he needs to because of the shoutout. Don't stan him with Jack or associate him with him please. Pewdiepie is a bad influence and a white supremacist

Ok. Let’s talk. I was going to ignore this but you’re really persistent. This is the fifth ask you have sent me telling me the same thing but in different ways. Sad thing is that I just started this blog, I can’t believe this keeps happening to me in every fandom I go to. Some of you need to understand something about Felix.

Yes, I’m aware he did a lot of questionable things. And no, he’s not a white supremacist. He’s not racist. And he’s not homophobic or whatever Twitter/the media is saying about him these days. I might not know him personally but I’ve been watching Felix since the very beginning and even with this little info about his life I can tell the difference between some things people choose to ignore about him. He’s a very honest person and he always tells everyone the information they need to know about him, whether it is about his personal life or his pewdiepie persona. His real actual friends (Jack, Ken, Mark -also good people, and whether you like it or not, Jack is one of them) held him accountable for the things he did and also made sure to assure everyone that the ‘Pewdiepie’ personality is totally different than his real-self. They confirmed he’s not any of his mistakes. Meaning the ‘Pewdiepie’ personality got too far and the facade/entertainment mask fell off of him when he made those mistakes. This was not only a lesson for him but it showed him places that needed real improvement in his life, something we all need sometimes. We all fall short in understanding the potential harm we can do to others and we easily face the temptation to define ourselves by ignoring those crucial parts. What Felix needed to learn was self-awareness. And he’s now constantly working on it so he can objectively evaluate himself when it comes to those things. Some people face this alone and privately but, him, as an internet sensation had to do it on camera.

Pay attention to what his actual friends say about him. Jack himself said it:

‘It is strange, all the stuff that gets said about him, it’s kind of weird to see that being said about a friend of yours. To hear his actual thoughts on it…people like to take things every which way and twist things all over the place. I don’t know how he does it, with that many people on you and that much scrutiny on you constantly. I think I would have lost my mind by now.’

I’m also aware he’s a white rich guy and that he’s a step up on the scale from me and other people but I’m sure that if I dig long enough, I’m going to find something about certain actors/actresses/musicians (that most likely you and other people love) as well. Meaning they’re human at the end of the day and they might make mistakes too. Felix is the same case here.

It was dumb to say certain things and do certain things? YES. I held him accountable when he did those things. He didn’t need to say or do the things he did. It was irresponsible, harmful and immature from his part. However, he’s willing to make a change and work on it so this is something I can appreciate.

He did the fivver video. This is his statement:

‘I make videos for my audience. I think of the content that I create as entertainment, and not a place for any serious political commentary. I know my audience understand that and that is why they come to my channel. Though this was not my intention, I understand that these jokes were ultimately offensive. I think it’s important to say something and I want to make one thing clear: I am in no way supporting any kind of hateful attitudes.’

his response.

He said the ‘n’ word. He sincerely apologized. This is his statement:

‘I hate how I personally fed into that part of gaming. It was something that was said in the heat of the moment. I said the worst word I could possibly think of and it slipped out. I’m not going to make excuses to why I did it because there are not excuses for it. I’m dissappointed in myself because it seems like I learned nothing from controversies. And it’s not like I think I can do or say whatever I want and get away with it. I’m just an idiot but that doesn’t make what I said or how I said it okay. It was not okay. I’m really sorry If I offended, hurt or disappointed anyone with all of this. Being in the position I am, I should know better. I know I can’t keep messing up like this and I owe it to my audience and to myself to do better than this. I really want to improve and better myself, not just for me but for anyone that looks up to me or anyone that is influenced by me and that’s how I wanna move forward. Away from this.’

source: my response.

He:

Held himself accountable.

Made no excuses for his behaviour.

Recognized he did something wrong and stupid.

Sincerely apologized for it without making a fake act or fake crying for sympathy.

Never asked for sympathy or support because he's willing to make a real change in behavior.

Realized some people are influenced by him and worked to be better for them and himself.

Chose to be himself and stand his ground on an important matter to make his audience understand he was taking this as serious as it is.

Understood he gave ammunition that feeds some people the wrong idea and didn’t try to rationalize it because he knows he should take accountability for it.

Saw that he had no need for jokes or words like that in his vocabulary in the first place and worked on self-control.

Rightfully feels ashamed for his actions.

Here you can see Felix takes this seriously. He’s not messing around with what happened. He takes it with the responsibility it should be taken.

And this is enough for me. I’m sorry if you think Felix needs to do a blood sacrifice to prove himself but that’s just not how it works.

We all have said or done things we are not proud of. He did many of them and trust me, he was held accountable for them. How? Here’s a list of the consequences:

He was part of the original content network YouTube Red, and was affiliated with Disney’s MakerStudios brand where he had his own network. Disney cut all ties with him.

They cancelled his YouTube Red show, where a lot of people put big effort (not only the participants but the crew members). You can see that this was important for him. It was not just some random ass show.

Was held accountable for his actions and it was made known every mistake he did. Every single one.

Received the proper criticism from the media, his fans and his own friends.

He also received harsh backlash and hate from the situation.

Lost support from followers, celebrities, friends and companies.

He’s constantly attacked by people and media outlets on a daily basis. Some people even fabricate false stories about him.

He faced the proper consequences for those actions. Let him move on already.

You also listed a bunch of stuff in one of your asks, things he’s NEVER done. Those are things the media has made you and everyone else believe he did but he didn’t. This is why you should never believe any random media headline, you need to actually do your own research to see if that’s true or not. Here are the things you said he did (none of these are true):

No, he hasn’t hired people to say the ‘n’ word. This is not true at all.

No, he doesn’t promote Adolf Hitler speeches and anti-semitic cartoons. Disney did once tho.

No, he’s not homophobic. At all. He was actually evicted from his own flat because his previous landlord is an actual homophobic person and called him and his crew the ‘f’ word. He decided to move far away from the guy.

No, he didn’t perform the Nazi heil. Never.

No, he didn’t pay the ‘Jesus’ guy to hold a sign that says ‘Hitler did nothing wrong’ this is a lie. Someone else did it and the media said it was him to cause more controversy. He paid him to say ‘Subscribe to Jacksepticeye’.

No, he’s not racist. For this, his content would’ve to be filled with racial jokes and actual intentional attacks daily. His content is not like that, trust me, the most he does is play with some tambourine all the time. He’s said the ‘n’ word (something he admitted was terrible, apologized for it and took responsibility for his words), yes but someone that feels as bad and ashamed as he does, does not equal to what an actual racist is and how they act.

No, he didn’t dress up in a Klansman robe. He never did that. This is also false information about him.

No, he doesn’t bully his friends or enables bullying. I don’t know where the media got that one but I can assure you they’ve got no friends if they think his interactions with his own friends are ‘bullying’.

No, he doesn’t joke about crises happening around the world. AT ALL. He constantly raises money for them (and gives his own money as well) to different causes such as the Wildfires Emergency Appeal, Team Trees (to plant 20 million trees), St. Jude Children’s Research Hospital (for kids with diseases such as cancer), Crisis Text Line, National Alliance on Mental Illness (a group that helps those suffering from mental illness), CRY (a GoFundMe campaign to help Indian children living in poverty), World Wildlife Fund (dedicated to the reduction of mankind’s environmental impact), RED (did a whole 7 hour livestream with friends to help people fighting HIV/AIDS in Africa), Charity: Water (a non-profit that provides drinking water to developing nations), Save the Children (for underprivileged kids to give them better education, healthcare, better economic opportunities), he recently raised $106,000 for the BLM movement donating the contributions to the family of George Floyd and other victims of police violence, Cincinnati Children’s Hospital, Hope for Holt, Malaria No More, Oceana, SpecialEffect, War Child, etc. Does this sound like someone who makes fun of real problems happening around the globe? No. And no, he hasn’t made fun of those causes either.

No, he doesn’t make fun of mental illnesses. He talks about it with the proper respect and delicacy it deserves. He constantly adresses mental health, shares resources for viewers who may be struggling and talks about the importance of being aware and getting legitimate help. Where are you taking these facts from?

No, he doesn’t support China’s police brutality. He was BANNED from China for critizing the president and the country’s treatment of Hong Kong’s anti-government protests. How hard is it to watch the real video instead of trusting some Susan from Twitter?

No, he has NEVER disrespected Japanese culture. Felix loves Japan and respects their culture. He always treats the people and the place with utter respect.

He’s not a white supremacist or a secret Nazi. Are you insane? He’s said it himself ‘f*** anyone who is racist and anyone who is a white nationalist. That’s not what I’m about. And that’s not what my channel has been about either.’ Maybe if you think about it, the media painted him that way and people decided to go with it because they don’t actually watch his videos. The number of accusations and stories are insane and ridiculous. Have you ever watched one of his videos? Ever? Because if you would’ve, you would know none of these things are true.

No, he doesn’t encourage kids/teens to see and follow Nazi ethics. He recommended a channel that does anime reviews (he didn’t know the channel had pro white-supremacy videos). You’re accusing him of that for not checking the thousand-something videos said channel has because he liked one anime review? This is reaching to a whole new degree. You could’ve randomly watched the same anime review vid, does that make you a Nazi as well? And NO, he didn’t wear an Iron Cross, he was wearing a Georgian Bolnisi cross. The shirt is by the Georgian designer Demna Gvasalia. Use Google please.

I don’t think you’re a real Jacksepticeye fan if you think he’s sticking up for him only because of a shout-out that happened years ago. Extend your perspective in this. He knows him in real-life. He’s his best friend. He can tell he’s not a bad person. This is not a hard thing to figure out.

Also, you forgot to put the anon option in one of your asks, so I know who you are. Weren’t you joking about WW3, using the ‘r’ word to fight with your followers and making fun of the BLM movement a few months ago on your twitter account? It might not look like it’s possible but we’ve also made and are capable of making some of the same mistakes too. The difference is that some of you hide behind the ‘it’s just humor to cope with life’ gen z card. Joking about a serious important movement is harmful as well, hope you can learn that.

I can’t tell you how to emotionally react to his content, however I can advise that if it bothers you that much you should remove yourself from the environment that revolves around him (if you even watch his videos which I highly doubt) if you’re not willing to give him a chance. You also need to remember that forgiveness is private and personal, just because you don't see his content and can't see that change doesn't mean it's not happening. There’s power in understanding.

#pewdiepie #felix kjellberg #jacksepticeye #sean mcloughlin #youtube #youtubers

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freeshavacado · 4 years

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My thoughts while reading Gone by Michael Grant:

* wait how old is Sam

* He do be liking Astrid doe

* Damn so Sam is a Leader

* Ew Orc is an 8th grader? 🤮

* Ok I googled it Sam is 14

* I like Quinn

* Sam thinks he’s so awkward but he’s actually really chill so far

* THE PAIN THIS GIRL IS GOING THROUGH OH MY GOD

* Poor Mary :(

* Howard’s a bitch

* Cut to Quinn being a racist motherfucker

* I love Edilio

* Sam is WHIPPED for Astrid

* Orc is such a piece of shiiiiiit

* LANAAAAA :(((

* Poor thing is in so much pain

* Patrick her dog is alive so that’s good

* She’s deadass slowly dying

* Thank god her arm is better

* I want to make this into a TV series

* If Sam and Astrid don’t kiss at some point I swear

* Hahahaha Sam do be shirtless rn

* Why isn’t Astrid happy to see Little Pete???

* MARY. IF YOU POUR HOT ASS COFFEE ON A CHILD, DONT JUST STAND THERE AND THEN RUN AWAY. PUT COLD WATER ON THE BURN

* Aw Mary has had bulimia since she was ten :(

* Ok so what she just took her Prozac and then threw up? Wouldn’t the pill go up too? I think your stomach/body needs like 30 minutes to absorb it into the blood stream...

* HELP SAM HES CHOKING

* Bruh my ass would be so exhausted

* Quinn low key an ass tho

* Lol edilio isn’t standing for this bullshit

* Lmaooo Astrid knew 💀

* Omg little Pete has it too

* Wow Quinn is an asshole pt 2

* I feel like Caine is gonna be a villain...like he’s pretty AND nice? Nah bro too good to be true

* Fucking Orc god 😒😒😒

* Caine is up to some shit 🤨

* Lmao hold up

* Diana probably whipped tho

* Sam please only be a simp for Astrid 😩

* I bet Drake is hot

* Aww computer Jack :) DONT YOU TURN ON ME SON

* “The captain is already maintaining” Bullshit 💀

* Are they really gonna call this eighth grader ‘Captain’?

* LMAOOO THE BASTARD CANT EVEN READ OR WRITE 💀💀💀

* Lol making Sam the fire chief because he was brave enough to go into a fire one time, so therefore he is the most qualified

* Bruh that’s like if I gave a kid the Heimlich maneuver bc he was choking on a gummy worm or some shit and they were like “Well because she did that, she should be the head doctor!!!”

* CAINE IS FULL OF SUCH BULLSHIT OML

* PRETENDING TO CRY N SHIT GOD

* I already know that Diana is gonna try and seduce Sam while she’s actually a spy for the private school kids

* Which, btw, of course it’s the private school kids smh

* I feel like maybe Computer Jack will be someone who eventually switches to the Good Side

* ALSO wow jack really be thinking that he’s smarter than Astrid smh 🙄

* Jack is such a smartsass

* Diana is such a fucking bitch oh my god 😒😒😒

* “You don’t look tough, Astrid” STFU SHES THE TOUGHEST OF THEM ALL

* Ok but I bet Diana and Astrid low key have sexual tension. Like obviously nothing’s gonna happen...but still

* Bruh I hate Caine

* Fuckin Diana with her ‘readings’ bullshit smh

* YESSSS LANA 👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻👏🏻 so strong

* Literally how do they not know how to make pasta

* “I thought your people ate tortillas,” QUINN YOU RACIST PEICE OF SHIT UGH

* Poor Bette :(

* Orc is a piece of shit, I know we’ve already established this but I wanted to say it again

* I love Edilio so much

* Orc really using a slur against Edilio huh. Imma kill him

* IM SO DONE WITH QUINN. THIS BITCH REALLY JUST SAID “let him have her” LIKE TF????

* Drake is such a bastard oh my god

* If you hate Quinn and you know it clap your hands 👏🏻👏🏻

* No seriously. I fucking hate him.

* Nooooo Bette died :((

* “I can’t kiss you with your little brother watching” AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!

* Did they kiss or not wtf

* What the hell is up with this cat

* Ah so they did kiss!!

* Why didn’t I get details 🤨

* No a baby died 😞

* Quinn s u c k s

* How convenient that Sam got there *right* before Emma disappeared

* Those last 6 minutes before Anna disappeared too and was calling out to her sister, and so for what she thought was her last few minutes on earth she held sams hand :(

* Lol Diana sucks

* ‘WoRDs DONT sCArE mE’ shut up Drake

* Okay Computer Jack is definitely going to betray them because they underestimate him and take him for granted

* You’re telling me Caine and Sam could be TWINS???

* Why was the kiss ‘a mistake’ ?

* Okay NOW they’re awkward

* “But it was the first time I meant it” I CANT. ITS SO CHEESY

* I HATE QUINN

* These kids are crazy violent

* Fuck Diana

* Yikes now Sam only has some of his eyebrows left 😬

* Caine is in love with Diana 👀

* Little Pete might be more powerful than Caine 😛

* THESE KIDS ARE CRAZY LIKE CHILL

* Diana: I really dislike you Astrid: of course you dislike me, I make you feel inferior

* ROASTED ^

* Mmmm Quinn is trying to redeem himself

* “Don’t call me brah. I’m not your brother” OHHHHHHHHHHH HE REALLY WENT THERE

* that’s what you get for being a backstabbing asshole

* Poor Astrid :(

* Poor Little Pete :(

* Bro I need this to be a movie

* I love that Sam just punched Quinn like we had no choice but to stan

* Ok drake would definitely shoot up a school

* Fuck Drake

* Lana is so strong. Like she’s been in so much pain physically and mentally, and she almost died. But she saved herself and now even though she thinks she might be the only person left alive on earth, she is still keeping strong.

* What happens if the boat runs out of gas?

* Bruh these coyotes don’t give up

* THE COYOTES AGAIN??

* “Go out” “You’ll kill me,” “Yes. Go out, die fast. Stay, die slow”

* Wowwwwwwwwwww^

* Lmaooo “L.P.”

* Awwww Sam: “...she was still so beautiful that sometimes he had to look away.”

* Okay he a lil’ horny

* Awe Astrid and Sam hugging I’m soft 🥺

* I’m so sick of these damn coyotes

* Bruh these coyotes 😒

* Diana is annoying

* Literally can’t remember who Andrew is, but they’re about to film his passing away like wtf

* Poor Andrew :(

* “You’re a deep sleeper, Jack. Just now, while you were sleeping? I held your pudgy little hand. Probably as close as you’ll ever get to holding hands with a girl. Assuming you even like girls.” FUCK YOU DIANA

* Okay so Diana will protect Jack as long as he ‘belongs’ to her and does what ever she wants? That’s pretty sus

* Sam and Astrid kissed again 😖☺️

* Lmaooo Albert over here running McDonald’s

* Salads disappeared quickly from the McDonald’s menu since this whole thing? Who the hell orders a salad from McDonald’s?

* So Albert kinda whipped for Mary 👀

* I haaaaatttteeee the private school kids

* Y’know what depending on where I was and who I was with in this situation, I might’ve just killed myself

* “Remember who owns you” ew 🤨

* Diana. I hate you

* Bro I feel bad for Andrew

* How is Lana back at the cabin?

* That IS Lana right??

* Okay things are moving fast between Sam and Astrid. Like she’s already saying “I just want you here with me. Safe” like 🤢

* Lana, about Sam: your boyfriend? Astrid: ThAts nOt WhAt iTs AbouT

* LMAOO AFTER SHE SAID THAT SHE SAID IN A LOW VOICE “kind of” WHAT

* Lol Lana be out here like “yeah shits crazy. Get with the program”

* Ew they’re eating pudding with their hands 🤮

* I don’t care how hungry you are, that’s gross

* Like get a spoon or something

* Lana just called Astrid “smart girl Barbie” 🤨

* Part of me is like “lol” but the other part of me is like “bruh stop Astrid did nothing wrong”

* I still hate Quinn but he is kind of funny

* Lana calling Astrid “the blonde” like girl 😑

* Bruh you’re stuck in a house that is literally on fire and getting hotter by the second as it fills with smoke, now is not the time to be kissing Astrid

* Finally the damn coyotes are gone.

* Sam is so angry and he’s disgusted with himself for being so angry, I relate

* Fuck you, Quinn

* Fuck drake

* I would gladly kill Drake

* OOOOOOOOO EDILIO LIKES LANA AHHHHHH

* SIMP

* omg I love it 😩

* Lmaooooo Sams speech wow

* Sam you should NOT forgive Quinn. Especially not that fast. Yikes.

* Orc should feel bad for killing Bette. I have no pity for him rn

* Yes please kill drake.

* I am so happy that his arm is on fire. 100% he deserves to feel that pain

* Aww that’s kinda nice that Albert is planning thanksgiving dinner for everyone

* DAMMIT DRAKE

* I hate drake so much like dude just shut up and leave everyone alone

* Orc oh my god I could not be rolling my eyes harder right now

* Tbh if Orc and his other friends die, I’m okay with that

* What tf is up with this DVD

* Little Pete caused all of this??? 😦

* I’m sooooo sick of this whole darkness and coyote stuff istg

* Where is Patrick?????

* If Patrick is dead imma throw hands

* Diana is such an evil person. Like Drake is a monster, but she’s horrible in a different way.

* Also ughhhhhhhhhh Drake is back 😒😒😒😒😒 so sick of that mf

* “So. When do we go take down Sam Temple?” 🙄🙄🙄 no one likes you Drake

* AHAHAHHSJAHSHSHHSHD

* SAM JUST TOLD ASTRID HE LOVED HER

* AND SHE SAID IT BACK

* IM. S O F T

* (like my brain is still saying “y’all have talked for less than two weeks and you’re 14”)

* But like whatever 😭❤️

* My eyes just rolled into the back of my skull once Diana appeared

* Taylor low key flirting with Sam tho 👀

* When I first met Dekka, I was all: ‘what the hecka?’

* THOSE DAMN COYOTES

* I’m crying because Quinn couldn’t kill Drake because he was scared, and now children are screaming. Ugh I really wanted him to kill Drake but I understand that killing someone is a crazy thing to have on your conscience

* Call me cold hearted, but I would’ve shot him

* This is all in theory of course ^ I bet if I was in that situation though it wouldn’t be as easy as “just shoot him”

* I don’t think I’ve ever been more annoyed with a fictional character than I am with Drake rn

* Yooo I bet Isabella has some animal powers or sumn

* Caine 🙄🙄🙄 like that emoji doesn’t even come close to describing how annoyed I am

* Wait so is Patrick back now or...?

* Caine really just. Kissed Diana. Because she “owed him”????

* THIS IS SOME BULLSHIT

* I literally hate sooooooooo many characters in this book ugh 😒😒😒

* Quinn is watching Drake kill Sam and is doing nothing. I’m so done with this piece of shit

* Ok finally he tried to shoot him

* “You know it always gets me hot when you say ‘apt analogy.’” “Why do you think I do it?”

* Y’all 🥴🥴🥴

* THOSE DAMN COYOTES

* Literally? Imagine being this heartless. Giving up hundreds of kids to coyotes without hesitation. The hate I have for Caine is real

* Once again, Orc feeling bad for what he did to Bette. And honestly? I’m still okay with that

* This kid is an a l c o h o l i c

* Computer Jack is so annoying like dude stop holding on to Sams leg. Literally

* Still hate Diana, but I like that she’s helping out Sam a little bit

* Ew Diana just kissed Sam on the corner of his mouth 🤢

* I TOLD YALL ^^^

* Yay Patrick is alive :)

* “I guess we won,” Sam said. “Yeah,” Edilio agreed. “I’ll get the backhoe. Got a lot of holes to dig.”

* ^im. Depressed

* I cannot for the life of me remember who Cookie is

* “Orc sat with Howard in a corner by themselves. Orc had fought Drake to a standstill. But no one-least of all Orc-had forgotten Bette.”

* ^good.

* Y’all Sam and Astrid flirting I- 🥴🥴

* We love to see it ^

* Awww “we’re going to the beach” y’all Astrid and Sam are so cute

* THOSE DAMN COYOTES

* FUCK. Goddamn this cliffhanger 😡

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malicious-fisheeves · 4 years

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Anyway here’s the dumb fandom shit manifesto but here’s the whole thing under the read more

https://docs.google.com/document/d/1WKjpOTU7D-JkiXD1gqYNJcjzGI691WXWRj4CJ3mI5UU/edit?usp=sharing

Honestly this is for myself personally, everyone has their own barometer, but I hate all of you and will hit you with my tonka truck

It’s incredibly telling that most of the people who proudly call themselves “anti antis” and “problematic” don’t see this as a serious issue. They’re more concerned with their right to jack off than having--not even compassion, just basic decency, for children / abuse survivors in fan spaces. Harassment campaigns against minors who are rightfully uncomfortable with how ‘big’ artists and other fan content creators interact with them are incredibly common, and it’s incredibly ironic to hear these same people bemoaning how their right to free speech is being taken away, or how “antis should care more about real people” -- people against pedophilia and incest shipping do care about real people of course. For example, real children who are hurt in real life when people create grooming content for real pedophiles, or abuse survivors trying to navigate their own road to recovery who are barraged with content that makes them relive their trauma (especially in the case of vocal survivors, who are often specifically harassed with content meant to trigger them). It’s also laughable that these people are always talking about how they “properly tag” their works so that it can be avoided, all the while continuing to follow creators who specifically outline their discomfort with these “anti antis” and say they don’t want to be followed by or interact with them. These people have no regard for other people’s boundaries. There’s also the hilarious (/s) instances of these people proclaiming their therapists think that them making child porn is just fine. Most often, these incidents are either blatant lies from “fandom therapists” (who quickly accumulate clout and then ~mysteriously~ disappear to side blogs once they’ve stroked enough people’s wounded egos.) While there are some forms of treatments that do involve creating art or writing about your own personal experience so you can work through the complicated emotions that come from being a victim of abuse, these are supposed to be in tightly monitored situations, not posted to widely used social media and fan works sites where that material can be used by groomers. Your 50 yr old therapist, Kelly, doesn’t know what AO3 is, and even if she did, who’s to say she’s right in the first place? Adjacent to this argument is one from legality, which already sets off a million red flags for anyone who’s discussed real-life instances of abuse where it was ‘alright’ because a predator waited until their victim was of age. Legal? Yes, maybe, but morally justifiable? No. Of course, this itself will ring their incessant whinging about how “fiction =/= morality.” Yes, of course, the things we create do not necessarily reflect our own morals on principle alone. However, writing dark subject matters requires a clarity of purpose--if you’ve ever been on the side that representation is important, because it influences how we think about certain groups of people or subject matter (like war), then you understand this principle already. There are certain ways of portraying these things that have a real impact on how a reader interprets them. Yes, violent video games don’t make people violent, but they can make war seem much more palatable, or make the enemy less human. The torture porn in many horror films in the 70s/80s wouldn’t have made men more violent towards women, but it did contribute to larger misogynistic ideas about women(this doesn’t even touch upon the sub genre of trans horror, which of course does have real effects on how trans people, mainly trans women, are viewed, and contributes to violence against them).

This argument that “fiction =/= reality” really misses the forest for the trees when it comes to these discussions, quite frankly, because it’s rarely about “you read incest porn, you are therefore going to commit incest” and moreso about the wider impacts that the masses of fan works aggregated onto websites as opposed to you, personally, being ~*problematic*~. Quite frankly, I would probably be less vocal and less ~mean~ about it if people I knew, and myself included, weren’t put on the end of harassment campaigns, made fake callouts for, or lied to by people I thought I was at least on good terms with. When fans perpetuate racist stereotypes--making black and latine characters hypersexual aggressive or borderline (or, yknow, just actual) rapists to their petite white ‘romantic’ interests, or making asian characters submissive waifs and abuse victims--it has a real effect on how people of color interact with fan works. If you want to talk about being ~pushed out of the fandom~ maybe shut up forever. One thing I did want to note upon is that it’s already quite ridiculous to claim that “fiction doesn’t effect reality”, one, for the claims above (you simply cannot claim that representation is important and then dismiss fans of color saying your slavery non con fic is racist) when it’s very obvious that these “anti anti” spaces attract predators on the reg. This is most plain on twitter, where a cursory scroll through popular “anti” dunking blogs are filled with self proclaimed pedophiles (some claiming to be “no contact” which is basically useless if you speak to victims of CSA). Because those blogs make them feel good. You’re not actually hurting anyone, what you’re doing is fine. Children can consent. Beyond that, it also gives them a network to meet other pedophiles and distribute their child porn, and a way to meet children, especially for blogs that post mainly about children’s television shows. Children want to feel mature and respected, and blogs like these give them this avenue, because to many children sex is a taboo, mature topic. They can’t talk to their parents, because they’re afraid of getting in trouble for talking about sex, and that’s what predators prey upon. It’s the perfect grooming environment. Regardless of whether or not you think that reading child porn, or rape fics, will make you, personally, a rapist, these places have created an environment where children are put in danger. This isn’t a hypothetical--multiple predators have been outed from “anti anti” discords, where they return with regularity.

TLDR fuck all yall

#its all just talking about incest/abuse/pedophilia in fandom it is. once again #mainly just for myself but also Im Right #i could say so much more but i dont care to

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years

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Second Chances - Ch. 3

Finding Freedom

Warnings: blood, mild swearing

Word Count: ~8,900

Nearly a month has passed since you were unwillingly incorporated into the camp, who you have come to learn call themselves the Van der Linde gang. From what you have gathered, just about every person has done something that has marked them as unwanted in society. Mary-Beth, for example, is a master at pick-pocketing, Karen is too, but she’s also gotten in trouble multiple times for public drunkenness. Tilly used to run with a group of men called the Foreman Brothers, a particularly nasty gang from what she made it sound like.

You’ve met most, if not all, of the gang members at this point, and it seems that most of them do their part to keep things running, working together. The exception to this are some members like Uncle, an older man with a thick beard who lays around all day, occasionally entertaining the others with his banjo. The red headed woman you had seen in Dutch’s tent your first day, Molly O’Shea, seems to hang around his tent, often staring at her pocket mirror or writing poems.

You glance around you, seeing some of the members you’ve come to know, while you cut up some vegetables for Pearson’s stew.

Bill, a slightly overweight man with a thick beard and a habit of getting drunk, tends to be racist, particularly towards the mexican man who you first saw playing the guitar named Javier, and a young black boy named Lenny, who can’t be more than nineteen. Bill also occasionally antagonizes the man who is half black and half Indian you learned to be named Charles. When Bill isn’t drunk, though, he’s tolerable.

There’s also a pair of brothers. They are highly similar in looks and age, so much so you’re not sure if they’re twins. Everyone calls them the Callendar boys, Mac and Davey. They tend to be a bit obnoxious, particularly when they’ve had too much to drink, but they’ve left you alone so far, preferring to pull their antics with each other and a red haired man in his early twenties.

There is one person, though, you have disliked from the beginning. His name is Micah Bell, with a large blond walrus mustache and a heavy beer belly, and he always wears a broad-rimmed white hat. He seems to delight in insulting people, no matter if he’s drunk or sober. He’s hardest on the men of color in the camp and the women, who he enjoys making feel uncomfortable. When you had first met him, you had been scrubbing away at some of the camps’ dirty clothing in the wash bin near Tilly’s bedroll. He had come up unexpectedly behind you and run his fingers through your hair, startling you. When you pulled away quickly to see who had the nerve to touch you, he gave you an oily grin. “Always makes me smile to see a woman on her knees,” he said, making you want to cringe.

“Leave her alone,” demanded Karen, stumbling over with a bottle in her hand. Micah put his hands up, stepping away.

“I was just sayin’ hi to our newest member,” he said unconvincingly. After that, you made it a point to keep away from him.

Aside from these few people, though, most of the others in the gang are pleasant. You’ve come to find the long man who spoke to Dutch while you were getting your arm stitched up is named Hosea. You discovered that he, Dutch, and Arthur are the original gang members, as well as Dutch’s best friend. You’ve seen him on a couple of occasions sitting beside young Jack, trying to teach him to read, something you feel slightly jealous of.

Another member you have come to enjoy the company of, although not entirely voluntarily, is Sean, a red-haired Irish man with a heavy accent. He couldn’t be more than 22 years old, and while he can be arrogant, he is undeniably funny, light-hearted, and quick with his mouth. He could take any situation and find something to joke about it.

Yesterday, you had been properly introduced to the man named Charles while you had been scrubbing a make-shift round table. The only time you had seen him previously had been from distances, so you were taken a bit by surprise by just how large he was. He had just grabbed a plate of stew, the only thing Pearson seems to know how to make, and had come to the table to eat just as you went to scrub it. Other than him asking you to excuse him while he ate, he said nothing, and neither did you. The silence was comfortable, however, and you got the sense that this man could be a mountain in a storm: dependable, steady, unmovable.

You stand at the wash bin by Pearson’s wagon, scrubbing away at the dirty tin plates and spoons. You see, out of the corner of your eye, someone approaching you. You turn your head and see that it’s Dutch, who hasn’t spoken to you since your first meeting.

“Hello, Y/N,” he says calmly. “I think it’s time you take up guard duty.” You recognize he isn’t asking you a question, so you straighten up and dry your hands on the rag hanging over the side of the barrel. Dutch calls over to someone else. “Lenny! Come and show young Y/N how we guard this camp.” Dutch walks away without another word or glance.

Lenny approaches you. You’ve only met him once, a few nights back sitting around the campfire. All you knew about him was that both his parents had been slaves before the Civil War and he had killed the men who murdered his father. For this act, he had to live as an outlaw, despite not even being 20 years old yet. He smiles warmly as you turn to him.

“Sounds like Dutch is finally thinkin’ you might be okay to act as lookout,” he says, gesturing for you to follow him. He leads you through the trees of the camp, just before they thin out on the plains leading to Stillwater Creek. Karen stands there, holding a carbon repeater. She glances back at you. “Thank God, ‘bout time someone else came to do this,” she says, shoving the gun into Lenny’s hands and walking back to camp. He turns back to you, holding the rifle to you.

“You know how to use one of these?” he asks.

“I think so,” you say. You’d never shot anything bigger than your sawed-off shotgun. “But maybe could you go over the basics?”

“Of course. You just have to hold it like this,” he says, placing the butt of the rifle against his shoulder and holding it up straight so he can look through the sights. “Just remember to always pull the trigger on empty lungs, and then make sure you prepare for the kick, or it’ll knock you off your feet.”

He smiles as you take the rifle.

“What do I do if I see something I need to worry about?” you ask.

“Oh, I almost forgot. If you see someone comin’ who ain’t part of the gang, just shoot this three times in the air. You don’t need to walk around the entire camp, Charles and Sean are guarding those spaces,” he says, beckoning to two of the opposite rings bordering the camp. He tips his hat to you with a friendly smile, and then he leaves. You had forgotten to ask how long you need to do this, but you figure in a few hours someone will come relieve you. At least you’ll have some time to be alone.

In the past month, Dutch has forbidden you to even step out of sight of anyone in the gang, not trusting you won’t run off. It’s been making you stir crazy since you’re used to being solitary and constantly on the move. The times you’ve gone to visit Rain, he or Hosea have always come to make sure you weren’t saddling her. You’ve done your best to be obedient and thorough in the work Grimshaw, Pearson and the others have set you to. Perhaps Dutch is beginning to trust you. He must be since he was the one who suggested you take guard duty.

You suddenly hear someone close by singing in a rough, gravelly voice, something about being frisky after having drank too potent whisky. You turn your head and see it’s the man everyone calls Reverend Swanson, a thin man with greying ginger hair, a thick mustache and red, squinty eyes. Although he wears the clothes of a reverend, his behavior and speech suggest he’s the farthest thing from one. From what you’ve learned about him, he has a severe dependency on morphine and alcohol, both of which he hates with a passion but cannot gather the strength to fight.

He stumbles drunkenly towards you. His eyes are crossed and watery, you’re not sure he can even see you. You raise up a hand to try and grab his attention to prevent him wandering too far from the camp, but his foot catches on the root of a tree, causing him to stumble and fall. You wait for a second for him to pick himself up; instead you hear him begin to snore. You approach him cautiously and prod him with your foot, which does nothing to cause him to even stir.

You hear, coming from the plains, the sound of a horse trotting towards you. You look and see the familiar form of Boadicea, the palomino paint, with Arthur upon her back. He is the one you have grown closest to since your arrival, even though he’s been gone for most of the month. The few times he has been in the camp, he’s always made it a point to come and check on you, making sure you have been settling in okay. You can’t help but feel a sense of gratitude towards him, even though you have to remind yourself that if he hadn’t come looking to pick up the bounty on your head, you’d still be out there on your own. Still, the company of these people has been a relieving change of settings.

“Again, Swanson?” Arthur asks in his husky voice, pulling Boadicea to a stop just beside you. You stand up and gesture to the unconscious reverend.

“He just wandered over here and fell. I don’t know if I can pick him up or drag him back.”

“Ah, it ain’t nothin’, I’ll do it,” Arthur says, dismounting his horse. He bends down and picks up Swanson in one swift movement, throwing his limp form over his horse’s haunches. He turns back to you.

“So, Dutch finally let you outta his sight?” he smiles. You look down and suppress your own.

“I guess so. Guess he’s finally figured I ain’t too much of a threat.”

“Well, good. Just be prepared to get bored out here.” He goes to step back into his stirrup before he turns back to you. “Say, maybe in a day or two, you and I could go huntin’ together.”

“You and me?” you ask, feeling uncertain.

“Sure, why not? I bet Dutch will let you go out, s’long as yer with me.”

He mounts Boadicea and looks at you expectantly. You cannot stop the small smile forming on your lips. “I think I’d like that.”

“Sounds good. I’ll let you know when.”

He prods his horse’s side and goes to the camp, Swanson bouncing unconscious on Boadicea’s hind quarters as he goes. You turn back, staring into the open plains, feeling optimistic.

The next few hours you spend guarding end up being perhaps some of the most boring of your life. You’ve spent plenty of time in the past doing mindless tasks and chores, but the majority of them allowed you to do the thoughtless activities while using your hands. This chore, however, requires you to use your eyes, always prepared, as you hold the repeater in your hands.

Across the plain that lies before you just beyond the cover of the trees, a winding dirt road goes across your view. Every once in a while, you see a rider, a stage coach, or a wagon roll by, but none of the riders or drivers even glance in your direction. At least you’re in the shade of the trees, away from the unforgiving sun.

Although it’s early April, the air and heat have started to become nearly intolerable. Of course, you’re used to this, having spent your entire life living along the borders of West Elizabeth and New Austin. When you had first run away after killing your family, you had headed deeper into New Austin, towards the more desert regions, where the cacti grow tall and the rivers run spare. However, the hot sun proved to be too much even for you.

It’s now late afternoon, the sun’s fingertips grazing the far horizon. You can tell by the scents wafting from camp that Pearson is nearly done with the stew, not that you’re particularly excited for dinner. It’s been the same every night since you’ve arrived, and you get the feeling it’s been that way long before you turned up. Over-salted, under-spiced stew.

You hear the sound of footsteps and you turn. It’s Bill, looking sour and angry. You secretly wonder if he’s been drinking again. He stops close to you.

“Guess I’m takin’ yer spot,” he snarls at you.

You hand him the repeater and quickly shuffle off before he can shoot off another angry remark. As you follow the path that leads into the camp, you pass by a small plant poking out of the ground you know from experience to be oregano. You bend down quickly and strip a branch of the leaves, stuffing them inside of the pocket in your jeans, figuring they couldn’t make Pearson’s stew any worse than it already is.

As you enter the site, which you learned a few weeks’ back is called Bison Point, you see the familiar line of folk leading to the cast iron pot of stew, hanging over the fire. You take the spot at the end behind Abigail, wiping the sweat from your forehead. She’s close to your age, perhaps a year or two younger, and she has a small boy named Jack, who is about four or five years old. From what you’ve been able to gather, he is the son of another gang member named John Marston, who seems to have little interest in helping to raise him. It’s clear that Abigail is fiercely bitter about this, and it’s not unusual for them to be heard shouting at one another outside the camp.

She turns and smiles at you. “How was guard duty?”

You huff, “Glad it’s over.” She chuckles.

Jack dashes over to his mother, holding a small book open in his tiny hands. “Mama,” he greets her. She greets him, running her hands through his light hair. He holds the book to her and points at a word. “What does that say?” he asks.

“I don’t know, sweetie, I can’t read,” she says. She turns to you. “Y/N, can you tell Jack what that word is?”

Jack turns his brown eyes to you, holding the book to you. You look at the printed words on the page, but they might as well be chicken scratches. You never learned to read, but not for lack of desire. You’d always wished you could, but your father had always been adamant that reading was not something a woman should do, among other things.

“I don’t know,” you shyly admit. “I can’t read either.”

Abigail smiles lightly at you. “That’s a’right. Jack, go ask Hosea.”

“But he’ll make me read more, mama,” Jack argues.

She chuckles, “Just go do it, you silly boy.”

Jack moans unhappily, turning away and skipping off. You’re thankful that Abigail does not mention the fact that you cannot read. Of course, it helps since she also admitted she doesn’t have the skill.

The line quickly moves, and within moments you’re grabbing a plate of stew. You head off to the square table you’ve seen Hosea and Tilly playing dominoes on. Small, faded spots of blood dot the table from when Lenny, Micah, and occasionally Arthur have played Five Finger Fillet. Susan, Karen and Arthur sit there now, eating the unappetizing stew. You take the last available seat. Arthur sits at the head to your right, and Susan on the left.

You set your plate down, greeting the others. You reach into your pocket and pull out the oregano leaves, sprinkling a few into your stew. You see the other three eyeballing it, and you suddenly wonder if it was the smartest to doctor your food in front of them.

“Is that oregano?” Susan asks. You nod your head.

“Well, if you’re gonna bring it out,” says Karen. “You better be willing to share some.”

You grin and hand over the remainder to all of them. Arthur grunts his thanks as he dips the leaves into the stew. You take a bite of yours, the flavor slightly enhanced by the new spice. At least the salt is less noticeable.

You finish your meal and then get up to leave.

“Here,” says Arthur, beckoning for you to hand him your tin. You hesitate and then hand him your dishes. He takes Karen’s and Susan’s, as well, and then takes them to the wash bin by Pearson’s wagon. You take a look around Bison Point, and you spot some of the other members of the gang sitting around the main campfire. You decide to join them, taking a seat on the ground.

Charles sits upon a large log, fiddling with some arrows and oleander. Javier sits on the ground in a make-shift tent, strumming lightly on his guitar. You curl your legs in front of you, listening to the pleasant music. Javier begins to sing, but the words are unrecognizable to you, since they are all in his native tongue. You gaze into the fire, allowing his delicate voice to take you into a daze. After a few moments, he ends with a flourish of his guitar.

“You sound good,” you compliment him.

“Ah, I love that one,” he replies. He begins flicking his fingers over the chords, playing a new melody, but he does not accompany them with words.

Hosea approaches and sits himself in the rickety chair by the fire. You haven’t had many interactions with him, but he has a very paternal nature. Even when he’s snapping at some of the members, like how you’d seen him to do to Sean a few days back, you can tell he genuinely tries to look out for the welfare of everyone in camp. He coughs slightly as he settles into the chair.

“So,” he says, turning to you. “Young Jack tells me you can’t read.”

You look down, suddenly embarrassed. You always wished you could read. To be able to do so would allow you to learn about the world. You’d always wanted to be able to expand your mind, to learn about new things. Not only that, you know reading offers immeasurable forms of escape. You hated not being able to read. In the past, if you had to look at a map or some other item with words, you always had to ask someone to tell you what it said. Almost every time you had to do this, the people you’d ask would give you similar looks of superiority, as though it were your fault you had never learned how to do such a seemingly simple task.

“No need to feel bad, Y/N,” Hosea tells you. “I doubt it’s your fault you can’t. Most folks here weren’t able to read, in fact some still can’t. Tell ya what, why don’t you let me teach you?”

You gaze at him, unsure if he’s being serious. “You’d really waste your time with someone like me?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not, s’long as you try,” he says encouragingly. “After all, Dutch and I taught most of these kids how to do it. Even young Arthur here.” He gestures as the man approaches the fire.

Arthur stops and loops his thumbs into his gun belt. “Yeah, though apparently I ain’t as good as Marston, it seems.”

“Enough of that, Arthur,” Hosea leans forward. “Readin’ ain’t a competition.”

Arthur just shrugs and sits beside Charles, pulling out a cigarette. He looks over at you.

“Ya gonna be ready to leave tomorrow?” he asks, puffing. “Think we’re gonna head out early.”

You nod. Your hunting gear, bow, arrows and hunting knife, are packed with your saddle. You’ll pack some spare clothes into your saddle bag before going to bed.

“Good, just make shoar ya pack enough. Might be gone a coupla days.”

A few moments pass by in silence, the only sound to be heard are the crickets singing while Javier strums the guitar. Arthur takes a final drag on his cigarette, throwing it into the fire. Charles’s wraps up the last of his oleander arrows. Then he speaks. It’s the first time you’ve heard him say more than a few words.

“My father,” he begins in his deep, melancholic voice. “Was a runaway slave. He… and many like him, joined my mother’s tribe. He met her and one thing lead to another, and then I came along. Things were… never easy for any of us. I don’t really remember much. I remember we had to leave the tribe, and it was just the three of us. One day, some men grabbed my mother and took her away. We never saw her again, so my father turned to whisky. When I was fourteen, I just… took off. Been on my own ever since. I guess I… I’m just tryin’ to find a place in this world. Most people are born knowin’, but I never have. Known where I belong, I mean. I don’t do this very much… I’m sorry I’m not very good at it.”

Charles ends his speech somewhat awkwardly. Javier has stopped playing the guitar, and the songs made by the natural world fills the air. Arthur scratches his chin and Hosea leans forward in the chair, making it creak slightly. Charles, looking as though he wished he’d never spoken, pulls out a harmonica and begins playing it. You remember, from a long time ago, hearing your grandmother playing the same instrument. Those were your favorite days, filled with golden sunlight, green meadows and honey. How you wish you could have more of them.

The sky above the fire is dark, the only light coming from the stars and the sliver of moon. You lean your head back to stare into the brilliant hues of gold and purples that form the Milky Way.

You hear Hosea stir. “Well, think I’m going to call it a night.” He turns to you with a kind gleam in his eye. “I guess, if you’d like, we can take up reading lessons when Arthur brings you back.”

You smile. “I’d like that, thank you.”

He nods and leaves. You take his action as your cue to get up and take yourself to bed, especially if you’ll be spending the next few days alone with Arthur, a prospect you’re slightly nervous about. It’s not that you’re worried he will try to do something. You’ve been made aware during the past month that he has quite some weight within the camp, and even though he was the one who found and brought you here, the idea of him even wanting to spend time with you is somewhat overwhelming.

You still can’t understand why he has been so kind to you. From the very beginning, after realizing you had a difficult past, he’s shown you mercy and compassion. You had long expected him to stop doing so, yet here he was taking you out of camp to go hunting. Of course, you know his treatment towards you is not unique. You’ve seen him acting sweet and kindly towards the others in camp. He acts as a mentor to Lenny, gives writing advice to Mary-Beth, brings Jack candy from his trips, and he seems to enjoy listening to you and the other girls talk while you do chores.

You lay down in your bed roll, still thinking about the complexity of Arthur’s character. As you begin to fall asleep, you hear the sound of the horses in the distance snorting sleepily, and the song of the campfires crackling merrily away.

You’re awakened by the sound of Grimshaw snarling at one of the other girls, probably Karen. You’re secretly grateful that your day has been dedicated to hunting with Arthur, it’ll give her a reason to leave you alone. Although Grimshaw can be motherly, she can become quite nasty and demanding if she sees anyone of the girls or yourself hesitate for even a second. You recall a few weeks ago when she pounced on Mary-Beth for reading a book for five minutes. She had grabbed her by the ear and roared at her, scaring the poor girl as she sat on her crate, knitting away with her head hung low. Despite the fact that you are no stranger to standing up for yourself, and even killing those who still push your boundaries, you decided then and there to never cross Susan Grimshaw.

You sit up, yawning heavily and rubbing your eyes. You check your satchel one last time, making sure all the essentials are packed one last time. Extra pairs of clothes, cans of food, dried meat, and several strips of bandages just in case you have another incident like the one with the cougar. You glance at your arm, which in nearly healed. The bandage and stitches were removed weeks ago, and all that’s left now is a thin, red line. You know it will become a scar, but it will be no different than your others. At least it isn’t as ugly as the one on the back of your right shoulder.

You leave your tent, hauling the heavy satchel out. You head over to Rain, who snorts happily on seeing you. Setting the satchel down, you reach into the bag on the saddle thrown over the hitching post, grabbing her brush. You groom her quickly and dig out her feet, then you bridle and saddle her. You give her a final pat on the neck after you throw the satchel over her back, strapping it down tightly. You glance over to Arthur’s tent and find that he’s still fast asleep. Great. You’re ready to go and he hasn’t even stirred yet. You look for Boadicea and see that she’s unsaddled, grazing peacefully next to Dutch’s white arabian named the Count.

You head back over to the main campfire where Pearson sets down the stew at night. The fire is open, nothing hanging over it. You approach the tall, narrow iron kettle next to it, pouring out some of the black coffee. You sip it slowly, crossing your other arm around your middle. Every few moments, you glance over to Arthur’s tent, seeing if the outlaw has even moved. You finish your cup, and still nothing from him.

You wish he’d hurry and get up already. You’re anxious to get out of the camp for the first time in a month, wanting to feel some of the freedom you used to have for the past year. You go to Pearson’s wagon, dipping your tin cup into the wash bin, rinsing it.

You leave to go back to the campfire, trying to think of something to occupy your time, glancing over to his tent. He’s sitting up, writing in his journal. You grab an empty, clean tin cup from Pearson’s wagon, pouring another cup of coffee. Nervously, you approach his tented wagon.

“Mornin’,” you greet. He looks up. Upon seeing you, he closes his journal casually, placing it into his satchel. He returns your greeting.

“I thought you might like some coffee,” you say, offering him the steaming cup.

“Well, that’s mighty kind,” he replies, taking it and lifting it up slightly to show his thanks. He sips from it as you stand there somewhat awkwardly.

“So, where are you thinkin’ of going?” you ask as he drains his drink.

“Was thinkin’ of going west, towards a lake called Don Julio. Lotta easy pickin’s out there.”

You nod. He stands up and you offer to take his cup back, which he thanks you for. You go and return it to the washbin, turning back and seeing Arthur is already at Boadicea’s side, grooming her. You go to your buckskin mare, feeding her a carrot while he saddles up his palomino paint. He turns to you when she’s fitted tight.

“A’right, let’s go,” he mounts her, and you follow his lead.

You both guide your horses out of the camp, Arthur greeting Lenny, telling him you’ll both be gone a few days. The two of you ride west towards Hennigan’s Stead. Despite the fact that it’s only mid-morning, the sun beats down angrily on you. Luckily, you already have your broad-rimmed hat on, shading you from the worst of it.

You follow your companion down the winding, dirt trail. A small chasm separates you from Hennigan’s Stead, and you follow the trail down into it. After following the chasm south for a few moments, the trail leads upwards and out. You urge Rain with your heels to go up it, she snorts slightly as she climbs. Boadicea ahead swishes her tail.

You arrive on the fairly level plains of Hennigan’s Stead, somehow drier and hotter than Bison Point, despite its proximity. You look to your left, to the south, and spot the wide San Luis River, and beyond that the cliffs that form the border of Mexico. You turn back to face the front, staring at Arthur’s broad back.

“Thanks again for offering to take me out,” you shout ahead.

“S’no problem,” he hollers back.

“I’m surprised Dutch didn’t try to stop me from heading out,” you confide after a moment.

“It ain’t for lacka tryin’ on his part,” Arthur warns. “He weren’t too happy when I told him I was takin’ ya out.”

You shuffle in your saddle, slightly worried.

“But,” he continues, oblivious to your movements. “I told him I won’t let ya outta my sight. That bein’ the case, don’t try wanderin’ off.”

The two of you fall into silence once more, and you don’t press it further. You can’t believe that, even after a month of hard work, no questions or complaints, Dutch still won’t give you a chance.

Arthur slows Boadicea down to a walk, giving her a break in the hot air. You follow his lead, patting Rain’s sweaty neck.

“So,” Arthur calls back with a lighter tone. “Ya thinkin’ of movin’ on when ya can, or are ya gonna stick with us?”

You hesitate, thinking on this. You’ve thought about it a few times. Part of you would like to move on, to be on your own again, mostly after the times you’ve been harassed by Micah or Bill during one of his drunken nights. To be on your own schedule, to go where you please. On the other hand, you’ve greatly come to enjoy, and even appreciate, the company of many of the others, particularly the other women in the camp. Plus, you’ve enjoyed having a nearly nightly serenade by Charles and his harmonica, Javier and his guitar, Pearson and his accordion, or Uncle and his camp songs.

“I ain’t too sure,” you admit finally.

“Well, just know yer work’s appreciated,” Arthur calls back. “Don’t think yer aware of how much Grimshaw talks about ya. Think she worries about ya, bein’ out there on yer own.”

This takes you by surprise. You never thought any of the others would take notice of your efforts, especially Grimshaw.

“Just wish Dutch would notice,” you admit, instantly regretting opening your mouth.

Arthur huffs. “Ah, don’t worry ‘bout him, he’ll come ‘round. Just think ‘bout it when yer given the chance to leave or stay. Think if ya wanted to, ya could find a place with us real easy.”

Arthur suddenly pulls Boadicea to a stop, and you stop your mount as well. He points to your right. “Ya see that? Pronghorns,” he says.

You follow his finger, spotting a small herd of does with one or two bucks not too far away, grazing in the brush. Arthur leads Boadicea off the road. He grabs his bow and dismounts, preparing to stock the animals. You follow his lead, notching an arrow into your own bow.

The two of you make some distance between each other, stalking the herd. Pronghorns, you know from experience, are fast and easily startled animals. One wrong move and the entire herd will bolt. You expertly step over the dried and dead brush littering the ground, doing as much as possible to be silent. The herd is now only 10 yards ahead, and they’re all grazing, completely unaware. You glance over at Arthur, who’s looking at the herd from his distance. He doesn’t look to you.

Taking your own lead, you step ahead a bit more and set your eye on a particularly large and handsome buck. You hunker behind a large and somewhat smelly bush. Readjusting your arrow slightly, you stand up and aim for a spot on his neck just below his head. You want to damage his pelt as little as possible. You pull your arm and let go.

The arrow aims true and hits your mark just as planned. Arthur’s arrow follows, burying itself into a doe’s eye. Both animals fall, already dead, and the rest of the herd disappears.

You approach your kill along with Arthur. He glances at the buck you shot, smiling.

“Impressive,” he says as you pull your hunting knife out. You smile back.

The two of you get to work skinning the pronghorns, delicately separating the skin from the muscle. Once the skins have been removed and the carcasses butchered, you both throw the pelts over your horses’ hindquarters.

The next several hours, you and Arthur hunt this way, slowly making your way to Lake Don Julio. The sun is beginning to set, turning the yellow horizon to blue waves, when you finally see the lake. It’s surrounded by tall, yellow grasses, green, thick brush, and tall proud cacti. A few cliffs and hills look onto the lake, casting their reflections. On the south end of the lake, you see a small cabin, which seems abandoned. Arthur stops, looking back at you.

“We’ll camp here a day or two, then we’ll go back.”

You nod, staring out over the lake. You can see fish leaping out of the water, snapping at the insects flitting over the surface in the setting sun.

Arthur leads you to one edge of the lake and dismounts, pulling out his own makeshift tent. You’ve left yours back at camp, only taking your bedroll out. You wish now you’d brought your own in case it rains, although you doubt it will. Arthur begins setting his up, unrolling his own bag. He glances at you, finding the most level spot of grass and dirt you can find to set your bedroll up.

“Ya shoar ya wanna sleep in the open?” he asks.

“I’ll be fine. Ain’t the first time I’ve slept under the open sky.”

He shrugs. “Yer welcome to take my tent, if ya want. I don’t mind sleepin’ out here.”

“Arthur, please, you’ve shown me enough kindness since I met you,” you say, more harshly than you meant to. “Don’t worry about me,” you end with a calmer tone.

Arthur looks into your eyes with his brilliant blues, and you can’t quite read his face. You look back at the lake, wishing he’d look away. After a moment, he does without saying a word. He starts wandering the small campsite, looking for wood to begin setting up a fire. You take up his lead and do the same.

After a few moments, a small fire has been started in a crude, stone circle Arthur made. He sets up a standing spit with a grate attached to it, much more civilized than your own. The two of you kneel down beside the fire and begin pulling out some of the meat you’ve gathered during the day. The sun has settled down beneath the horizon, the only signs left of it are the brilliant oranges and reds stretching into the sky.

You and Arthur sit in silence, which suits you. He’s a naturally quiet man, and you are not much for mindless speech yourself.

Once you’ve cooked and eaten enough, you go off to your bedroll. You slip into it, taking off your hat. You lay on your back, staring at the marvelous night sky above you.

“Lemme know if ya need anything,” Arthur says, heading for his own tent, pulling your eyes to him. You nod, and he goes inside. The two of you fall asleep without another word, the fire still burning brightly between you.

The morning light comes, kissing your eyelids and forcing them open. You sit up, slightly stiff. Turns out there had been a large rock where you had set your bedroll just under the surface of dirt, digging into your back.

You glance to the tent across the fire, and the man inside is still lying on his back, fast asleep. You stand up, stretching. You go to the fire and grab Arthur’s percolator, pouring yourself some coffee. You take out a strip of pronghorn meat and a can of peaches, eating them quickly.

You go to Rain and pat her neck, lost in your own thoughts. You hear Arthur stirring in his tent. You turn and see him standing, tucking in the pieces of his blue shirt that have come out and readjusting his suspenders.

“I’m going to go hunt close by. I won’t wander too far,” you say, grabbing your bow and quiver of arrows. Arthur waves his hand sleepily, allowing you to go.

You leave Rain behind, wandering over the slight rise and away from the lake. You stare at the wide, hot plains stretching before you, dotted with cacti. Beyond them, in the far off distance, purple mountains reach to the sky, which seems somehow closer.

For the next hour or so, you wander the area, always keeping the lake in your sight. You take down another pronghorn, a lone coyote, and even a few lizards and one particularly large rattlesnake. You return to the camp with your haul, throwing the pelts over Rain’s back, adding to the others. You spot Arthur standing on the edge of the lake, a long fishing pole arching over the water. You approach him quietly.

“Getting’ anything good?” you ask him. He turns to you.

“Few bass and bluegill,” he grunts. “Ya gonna join me?”

For some reason, your stomach knots at his invitation. You look down, feeling embarrassed again.

“I don’t know how,” you admit, wringing your hands.

“Ain’t no shame in that,” he says, pulling in his line quickly, throwing the pole over his shoulder. “C’mon, I’ll teach ya.”

You stare at him, expecting him to announce he was joking. He does no such thing, however, and offers you the pole. You step forward and take it from his large, tough hand.

You take his spot and stand there awkwardly for a moment, not knowing the first thing about fishing. Luckily, Arthur takes the lead.

“First thing, ya gotta bait the line,” he says, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a bit of cheese. You wrinkle your nose, being able to smell it’s pungent scent from your spot. He grabs the end of the line and shows you how to slide and place the cheese over the barbed hook.

“A’right, now just swing the pole over yer shoulder, and throw it over. Make shoar ya let the line go when ya throw it.”

You follow his instructions, aware of how close he is. You’re a bit worried about accidentally hooking him, but you toss the line over your shoulder like he said. You expect the hook to soar over your shoulder, but instead it plops a meager two feet in front of you.

“What the…” you start to say.

Arthur chuckles. “You released the line too soon, now ya gotta snag in it.”

You look at the line still attached to your reel and see a large knot.

“Crap,” you sigh.

“S’a’right, we can get it fixed.”

Arthur instructs you to keep a hold of the pole while he works away at the knot. For the next several moments, he tugs and pulls at the line, eventually working it loose.

“There, try again.”

You readjust your feet, determined to try again. Arthur steps back from you, giving you room to swing the pole. You do so, paying more attention to when to release the line. You toss the line, releasing it just as the pole arches over your shoulder, and watch the hook and bait fly a few yards from you, landing in the water with a splash.

“There ya go,” Arthur says, taking a step away. “Now, ya just have to wait. If ya feel the line just gently pulling, that’s just a fish nibblin’. If ya feel a good tug, that means ya gotta fish on the line, and that’s when ya reel it in.”

You nod your head and set in to wait. Arthur goes and sits himself upon a large rock, pulling out a strip of jerky, cutting it with his knife.

Time passes slowly, and it seems like nothing is interested in your bait. You’re just about to turn to Arthur and say so when you suddenly feel something gently pulling on your line.

“Arthur?” you call softly, unsure. He stands up, approaching.

“Just nibblin’, don’t pull yet,” he instructs. A few seconds pass, and whatever is on the end of the line takes a hard bite, pulling your line and causing the pole to bend.

“Good, now pull back hard,” Arthur tells you. You pull the pole up, and you can feel the fish jerking hard. You begin to reel it in quickly.

“Slow. If ya pull it in too fast, yer gonna lose it.”

You slow down your reeling pace.

“When he fights, stop reeling, or he’ll break yer line,” Arthur says right as the fish begins struggling hard. You obey him, and soon the fish tires out, going limp. You pull it closer to shore.

After a moment of pulling and fighting, you reel in your quarry. A decently sized bluegill comes out of the water, and you grab it, struggling slightly to keep a hold of its slippery body.

“That’s good,” Arthur praises, patting you on the back. You feel a certain warmth flood to the spot he touched. Perhaps you’re just not used to being touched anymore.

Arthur gently places his hands around yours, further wrapping the squirming fish. You try to hide the blush in your cheeks under your hat as he shows you how to remove the hook from the fish’s throat. The hook comes out with ease, and Arthur releases your hands.

“Is he big enough, ya think?” you ask.

The outlaw looks at the fish and then at you. “Looks like he’s a good size, but ya decide.”

You turn and place the fish in your satchel, wrapping it carefully in some cloth. You turn back to Arthur and offer his pole back to him.

“Thank you for teaching me to fish.”

“Well, keep goin’,” he commands, smiling as he offers you more cheese. You rebait the hook and then turn back to the water as he takes his seat back on the rock. “Ya can catch ‘nough food for days this way,” he says, cutting another strip of jerky as you throw the line out again.

You cast out a few more times, passing the time in comfortable silence. Arthur pulls out his journal behind you, scribbling away inside of it. You look behind you and see over your shoulder that he’s drawing, but can’t tell what he’s drawing since it’s upside down.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” you say.

“Well, I don’t know if ya could really call it drawin’,” he says, etching a few more lines delicately.

You turn back to the water, gazing at the place your lure landed and still remains untouched. “I never learned to draw. Don’t know if I ever held a pencil in my life, now I think about it.”

He looks up at you with an odd expression that you don’t see.

“Well, maybe Hosea can add writin’ to yer readin’ lessons.”

“Was he the one who taught you to draw?”

“A little, but most I learned on my own.”

“Oh. Could you teach me how?”

You look back at him and he looks at you, almost as though he’s measuring you.

“You don’t have to,” you hastily add. “Sorry I asked.”

“S’a’right. Shoar, I’ll teach ya.”

Just then, your line jerks with the pulling of another fish, and you’re distracted from his promise. You reel in the fish, finding it be a bass no more than six inches long. You unhook it and toss it back into the water. You pull out a new glob of cheese and place it on the hook, throwing it into the water, settling down to wait again.

“Can I ask ya a question?” Arthur asks, sketching away.

“Sure,” you respond.

“That bounty poster from Blackwater. Said ya was wanted for killin’ yer husband and parents. Did you actually kill ‘em?”

You sigh heavily. “Yes.”

“Why?”

You don’t speak for several moments. You’ve never told anyone why you did it. Part of the reason is because you doubt anyone would ever understand that you felt the need to kill them, you could have easily just run away. The other reason you’ve never spoken of it is because you’re ashamed. Ashamed you were so weak for so long, you let them do those things to you. You let them tear your life apart, forcing you under their boots.

“Oh, you wouldn’t wanna hear that story,” you finally answer. “It’s long and boring. I just… needed to be free, and the only way to get that was to kill them. I don’t wanna burden you with my crap.”

“No one’s past should be a burden, Y/N,” Arthur says, closing his journal and putting it back into his satchel. “The only time it’s a burden is when ya try and bury it.”

“Trust me, Arthur. You’re better off not knowing. Besides, you don’t need to take my burdens, you’ve helped me enough.”

Arthur shrugs his shoulders. You can tell he wants to keep asking, but he must decide it’s not worth it since he doesn’t bring it up again.

The next while, you continue to fish. At some point, Arthur gets up and gets his bow, wandering over a nearby ridge to go and hunt. You decide to join him, so you call him over.

“Hey Arthur, how do you store this pole?”

He comes over to you, swinging his bow over his back. He takes the pole from your hand, lightly brushing yours, making your skin tingle. He collapses the pole quickly, stuffing it into his satchel.

Arthur turns back to the ridge. You decide to hunt in another fashion. You go and mount Rain. He must hear you, he turns to you.

“Why you gettin’ on yer horse?”

“I figure we can cover more hunting grounds better on horseback,” you respond, taking the reins. You lead Rain over the ridge and gallop away, shouting to Arthur that you’re not going to wander too far.

You wander the landscape for several moments, spotting nothing. You circle your way back, looking for Arthur. You spot him hunched in a cluster of brush, staring down an unaware doe. You decide to try and show off. You notch an arrow and stiffen your back, urging Rain into a gallop with your legs, directing her with your calves towards the deer.

Rain dashes towards the deer, who, upon hearing the thundering hooves, turns and begins to run. You pull the bowstring back, aiming for a spot on the back of her head. You don’t compensate for the movement of Rain’s body, though, and when you release the arrow, it goes flying off towards a large boulder far from your target. You feel yourself slipping off the side of your saddle just as you see Arthur’s arrow taking the deer down.

You struggle to right yourself, but you’re not fast enough. You slip off the saddle, tumbling to the ground with a thud.

Arthur runs over to you, chuckling. “Ya a’right?”

“Yeah,” you say, standing up unhurt and brushing yourself off. “Thought I could take her down like that. After all, I’m gettin’ pretty good with a bow.”

“Well, it takes years to get that good, Y/N,” Arthur says, standing next to you. “I’da been impressed if ya even got the arrow close to her.”

You feel less embarrassed now that you failed so spectacularly in front of the big outlaw. Instead, you feel appreciative that he at least isn’t going to start laughing at you.

“Listen, why don’t ya go ahead and skin the deer?”

“No, no. You killed it, you should skin it.”

“Just go do it,” he chuckles, patting you on the back again, sending that feeling of warmth into your skin again.

You begin skinning and butchering the deer laying on the hot, dry ground. For a moment, you wonder if Arthur’s angry at you having taken his kill as he approaches.

“That weren’t too bad, Y/N,” he says, tucking his thumbs in his gun belt, stopping feet from you. You can’t help but smile. “How come ya can’t read or write, but ya can hunt with the best of us?”

“Ah, I had to teach myself how to hunt, otherwise I’da starved years ago,” you say, rolling up the pelt. “Found this bow, knife and shotgun one day when I was wanderin’ by my house where I lived with my husband. Some hunter must have gotten on the wrong side of a bear, he was dead in his camp. So I took his weapons and taught myself how to use them.”

“Yer husband didn’t teach ya?”

“Course not. He would’ve been furious if he even found out I could. He was convinced my sole purpose was to clean at home and cook his meals. He never would have let me bring home the food, but he was such a useless son of a bitch that I had to.”

“Bad business,” Arthur says.

“Well,” you throw the pelt over Rain’s hind quarters. “It’s over now.”

Arthur doesn’t press it further. For the remainder of the day, the two of you wander the perimeter of the lake, hunting animals and gathering plants. As the afternoon progresses to night, dark clouds begin to gather and threaten above your heads.

By late afternoon, the sky has grown so dark and ominous, you both decide to call it a day, heading back to your make-shift camp. Arthur makes another fire and you both begin to cook some of the meat you’ve gathered over the day. After a short period of time, you feel tiny dots of water flecking on your skin.

Arthur looks up at the black sky, then over at your bedroll, still exposed to the open air.

“Think ya oughta move yer bedroll into the tent. Looks like it might rain all night.”

You look at him, and then at the empty tent, feeling uncomfortable

“I… I don’t wanna impose.”

“Ain’t gonna be imposin’, Y/N.”

“Arthur, I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Ya ain’t gonna be doin’ anyone any favors by gettin’ sick,” he says. “Look, we’ll both take different sides of the tent.”

He gets up and shifts his bedroll to the far side of the tent, leaving enough room for you. Recognizing defeat, you stand and gather your own bedroll, the drops of water becoming more frequent. You unroll the bag on the other side of the tent as far as you can while Arthur resupplies the wood in the fire pit. You try to make as much space between your roll and Arthur’s, but there’s only a few inches. You sit on your roll, pulling your knees to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. Arthur bends down and enters the tent, settling down.

“Ya ain’t gotta be so worried, Y/N,” he says, not looking at you. “I ain’t gonna do nothin’.”

He lays down on his back, draping an arm over his eyes. You nervously take his lead, laying down on your side with your back to the outlaw. You relax as much as you can, but you can’t stop the fast beating of your heart. The last time you were this close to anyone was the night before you had killed your husband, and it had been the last night he had done those things to you. You can’t help but feel nervous, even though you’re sure Arthur will be true to his word.

You fall asleep, curled on your side, hearing nothing but the sound of the rain falling fast and heavy on the canvas above your head.

#rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan #dutch van der linde #Van Der Linde Gang #micah bell #charles smith #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x oc #fanfiction #i'm awkward #sorry it's a slow burn

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teenremus · 5 years

Text

meeting sirius black / asking you out would include...

a/n: idk why i’m having so much trouble writing lmao oopsies it’s been a hot minute. i’ve had 0 motivation for 0 reason anyway here u go request something pls :)

gryffindor!reader

- he had his eye on you since the sorting hat ceremony

- he thought you were. so cute. and you being placed in the same house was him was just all the better

- while he had had interest, he didn't see you much after that first day and forgot about you

- until fifth year

- you were in the same potions class

- of course, it had been a while

- it wasn't until the middle of first term when he recognized you

- after dicking around with remus in the back of the class, the two of them were separated

- and your usual partner, severus, had gotten replaced

- you didn’t really know severus, besides the snide comments you’d received from him on more than one occasion

- but you weren’t too ecstatic about sirius either

- you prepared yourself for the most excruciating annoyance for a lifetime

- but it wasn’t that bad ??? surprise surprise

- it took a moment for him to piece together where he knew you from

- but when he placed it, he smirked to himself, although you didn’t seem too keen on talking to him with your head in a textbook

- he found it uncomfortably silent

- “i’m sirius, love.”

- “y/n.” you didn’t look up

- “love sounds better.”

- you hated that you blushed, but you did

- you told yourself it was just some pickup line

- but he had genuine interest in you

- it showed every day

- he’d keep talking to you

- and you started to warm up to him more and more

- not only metaphorically, but physically

- his constant compliments made your stomach do jumping jacks

- remus sat behind you during all that time

- and was getting increasingly annoyed at the slow burn

- “you going to ask her out, mate, or are you sitting around waiting for someone else to?”

- “oh, piss off, moony”

- that made him nervous though

- and he started to notice the lingering gazes from some ravenclaw fellow in your class

- when he watched him graze your hand to reach a jar of dried bat wings, he was fed up he got jealous a little too easily

- when you came back with the jars of ingredients, he spoke immediately

- “what do you think about going out with me?”

- “pardon me?”

- “what would you think of you and me getting together?”

- “i think it would be nice”

- “good”

- “so are you asking me or not, wanker?”

- “well, yeah. i thought that was clear enough.”

slytherin!reader

- you knew who sirius was

- of course you knew who sirius was

- the blood trailer your house mates had shit talked into oblivion

- and while you weren't a believer that he was a blood traitor, you did believe he was complete and utter arse

- you'd been witness of him every day leaning against one of the doors to the great hall, with a different girl

- when quidditch season started up, you had joined the team

- and after an interaction on a training field, you had learned he was on his team as well

- it was a screaming match between your team captain and his

- you had to diffuse the situation

- “michael, come on, we still have time later. we don’t have a match for a few weeks. let it go.”

- you quite literally had to pull him away

- you made eye contact with sirius and james as you turned him away, and did your best to ignore the arrogant smirks that blanketed their thankfulness

- you saw him up close again at the match against gryffindor, standing across from each other and not breaking eye contact as the ref read out the rules

- once in the air, the game had been going swimmingly

- gryffindor - 7, slytherin - 10

- the game had traveled up farther in the sky with each point gained, the crowd could barely see you anymore with the amount of clouds

- it was a struggle in getting the quaffle

- “woah! guys, look out!” someone screamed

- you stopped your broom in its place and looked to see that everyone else had done the same, and you wondered what was going on

- you looked up, and saw somebody falling

- “holy shit, that’s sirius!” it was another gryffindor you couldn’t place

- no one was making any moves to save him, some continuing on with the game and snatching quaffles again— he kept falling

- “ah, bloody hell”

- you dropped the quaffle that had been tucked under your arm and quickened your broom’s pace as you dove down to catch him

- he was just beneath your grasp, your fingers barely touching his uniform

- when you finally got ahold of the fabric, he almost pulled you down with him

- you moved your grip to his forearm instead, and stopped your broom from diving down any further, or in just a few seconds you’d end up hitting the ground

- you were sure he’d be passed out

- but apparently not

- he brushed his hair out of his face with his free hand, then held onto the broom as he looked up

- “seems ive fallen for you, y/n.”

- “that is,,, absurdly lame, sirius.”

ravenclaw!reader

- it was through detention, of course

- you’d never noticed him because you’d been sleeping

- but he knew you

- or at least, he knew of you

- he thought you were so beautiful and he truly wondered how you kept getting into detention like this

- but he wasn’t complaining

- he rarely saw you outside of whatever classroom confined the two of you, so he knew what you were doing wasn’t as much of a spectacle as his pranks were

- could’ve been cheating, he considered

- but you were a ravenclaw, he figured it was doubtful

- sirius has never spoken a word to you, by the time he had reached detention each day you were already asleep. when it was time to leave, you were one of the first to escape

- until detention was held by professor binns

- he took wands, homework, any sources of happiness or busy work for the students to do

- including sleeping

- he wanted you to suffer in boring, magic-less silence with nothing to do but stare at the walls

- sirius was not having it

- when he got bored, he got really annoying

- he just kept asking questions

- “what’s the capital of the moon?”

- “do you reckon dumbledore keeps quills in his beard? as well as all the crumbs, of course.”

- it went on

- the continuous detentions was worth seeing you smile, even if it was beneath your hand

- you wondered if this was what you were missing out on all the times you slept

- when sirius wasn’t looking at you, you were looking at him, taking in his features

- he had almost caught you

- james definitely caught you

- but didn’t say anything, just winked in your direction to let you know he knew

- when james didn’t show up one day, sirius was alone

- or would have been, if he hadn’t sat down next to you

- “so, what’re you in for?”

- “would you believe me if i told you filch doesn’t like it when his office is broken into for fireworks?”

- he leaned back in his chair, almost impressed “hm. impressive............... but-“

- there was a long pause, and he pulled himself up again and rested his elbow on the table as he looked at you

- “i know a place you can get them for free. hogsmeade with me this weekend?”

- mcgonagall’s shushing broke the conversation

- silence again, just for a moment before she looked down at her desk

- “i’d love to.”

hufflepuff!reader

- he had run into you on the courtyard

- or rather, spotted you

- yelling unintelligibly at someone

- which is not what he expected from a hufflepuff

- a crowd was formed around you, occasional flinches as your wand waved around

- he weaseled his way through the crowd with his mates with a smile on his face, ready to spot some action

- he spotted the back of your head, arms flailing wildly as you yelled at an annoyed, but taken aback, severus snape over his continuous racist and arrogant comments about everyone and everything in the world

- which just made it even better

- sirius was losing his mind

- he had to hold onto james and remus as he laughed

- with an off insult saying "your nose is more inflated than your ego" and the accidental wave of your wand, a white spark had come out of it

- the rooting and howls of laugher had stopped all around the formed circle

- james, peter, remus and sirius has stopped as well and froze where they stood

- severus looked beyond your shoulder in shock and a smile crawled up his face

- you turned around quickly, mouth drawn open when you realized you had cast something

- a boy with dark hair was behind you, hands over his face

- when he pulled them away, his eyes were crossed in awe as he looked down at his nose

- it was twisting and turning, as it grew bigger and bigger and took up more of his face

- severus was laughing now

- “shut it” you said quickly, a short wave of your arm his lips were gone and replaced with nothing but skin

- his shouts were muffled and ignored

- “oh, my merlin. i am so, so sorry-“

- he started to laugh

- so hard he had to close his eyes

- his friends laughed with him

- “you’re laughing? you alright? that spell didn’t get to your head, did it?”

- he looked at your face for the first time

- oh, merlin, he didn’t expect you to be so pretty

- he was not ready

- this beautiful girl so worried and pampering him

- “is that your nose or are you just happy to see her, mate?” peter whispered, trying to hold back his laughter

- james was quick to speak when sirius couldn’t find his voice

- “oi! i think he deserves an escort to madame pomfrey, yeah?”

- “yeah, he’s not looking too well!” remus chimed in

- you began to walk him to the nurse, trying your hardest not to stare down the elephant on his face in the room

- “i’m y/n.”

- “i’m sirius.”

- his voice was more nasal than usual

- madame pomfrey was annoyed more than anything, but the trip lasted no more than a few minutes before his nose was back to normal

- you looked at him

- he was cuter without an absurdly large nose

- it was easier to see how the light caught in his eyes now

- “i’m so sorry-“

- “don’t worry about it, love. make it up to me with a trip to hogsmeade?”

- you were caught incredibly off guard

- “yes, i mean, yes. of course.”

#sirius black #sirius black headcanon #sirius black x reader #sirius black one shot #reader x marauders #marauders x reader #marauders era #harry potter imagine #reader x sirius black

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squidproquoclarice · 5 years

Text

All right, continuing with this Ask: I apologize if you've covered this already, but I just started reading Sunrise and I was wondering about your interpretation of Javier and Bill. Arthur REALLY soured hard on Javier even though they were good friends in the beginning--he can even be heard saying they should have left him to die in Guarma. I don't think RDR2 even really explains how Javier split up with Dutch, let alone the pathetic state he ends up in RDR1. Part 2: Javier I think Javier kind of got done dirty by RDR1. I’ll say that up front. The predestination of him being one of John’s RDR1 targets very much forced his char’s arc in RDR2, which kind of sucks, because given the man we see in-game, it could easily have gone the other way. I’ve remarked in the past that Arthur and Javier seem to be a tragedy of two similar men on parallel but opposite courses. They’re both artists and dreamers who care about people, are intensely loyal to those they love, and are deeply insecure about their place (Arthur due to a history of abuse, Javier due to being an immigrant and POC). Arthur starts as an unquestioning hyperloyal thug who hates himself and ends up finishing RDR2 as an idealist with strong principles and openly expressed compassion. Javier starts as an idealist with strong principles and openly expressed compassion and ends up in RDR1 as an unquestioning hyperloyal thug who hates himself. We see Javier was a revolutionary who wanted so much to change things in Mexico. (Side note: Sadie and Arthur aren’t seeing the worst of things in Mexico in Sunrise to this point, but some of that’s because they’re largely transient when they’re riding through the villages and estates where more absolute power is being exercised, and they’re also white Americans. They’re experiencing Mexico with some privilege, and don’t get as much access to viewing the cruelest realities as someone like Javier who grew up in that system. I’ve tried to still pepper hints here and there that things are a bit fucked up.) He came to America running from the law for effectively speaking up and fighting back, and Dutch found him and took him in. For a non-white, non-English speaking man on the verge of starving by that point, that act of kindness, of being seen and implying he has value, meant everything. And so like so many others, he gives Dutch his gratitude, his loyalty, and his worship. He’s a quiet, thoughtful man who tries to make the camp better with his music and the like. He’s openly philosophical in a way Arthur is only in the pages of his journal. But when it comes to Chapter 6, he proves he’s afraid to lose the man who made him feel more than worthless. He sticks with Dutch rather than face the uncertainty of what lies beyond the gang’s schism. He embraces Micah and Bill because that’s what it takes. He does it because he knows Dutch. He knows Dutch will keep him around. Otherwise, what is he? A Mexican man in a country that clearly doesn’t want him. Even at the very end, though, he’s still hesitant to try to attack John and Arthur, and I honestly think he’s not 100% sure what the hell is going on. He missed the exposure of Micah as the rat, and Micah’s shooting Susan--all Javier knows is he ran into camp to warn about a Pinkerton attack approaching, and everyone’s pointing guns at each other, and demanding he pick a side. He makes his choice and in his fear, picks loyalty over principles. Arthur early on is very friendly with Javier, which makes sense given they have a lot in common, even if most of that’s hidden in Arthur. But they click readily as friends and brothers. But by Chapter 6 they’re clashing, because that “parallel but opposite paths” thing is coming into play. Arthur has the drive of a man with a possibly fatal illness striving with everything within him to accomplish his goals. He’s also got the fervor of a man recently awakened to his principles and hating who he was. So yeah, he’s impatient with blind followers and people who still willingly choose to follow Dutch down this road of destruction. If he’d had more time, maybe he could have been gentler about those facing his same crossroads, but he doesn’t. So he’s critical towards Javier, to the point of viciousness, and it’s not pretty. He sees Javier making his choice, the wrong choice, and putting himself into opposition of Arthur’s goals. He literally doesn’t have time for this shit anymore. And I think unlike Bill, Arthur genuinely expected and hoped for better from Javier, the dreamer and idealist, so in his pained disappointment, he’s lashing out at Javier in anger, to the point of saying pretty lousy things like how they should have left him to die on Guarma. If he had the space and energy left to think about that, he’d likely be appalled to realize he’s engaging in another Dutch-ism: you’re not helping me accomplish what I need, so yeah, I’d be willing to abandon you to die. But when it comes to the gang, he has to shut out everything but the will and determination to help save those who want to escape this hellhole. It’s an interesting contradiction that while he’s at his softest with many people in Chapter 6, he’s his most ruthlessly dismissive towards others. Though even at the end, he’s pleading with Javier and Bill to think for themselves, one last time. Post-game, I think Javier realized soon enough what he’s done. He’s with Dutch, yes. But look who else Dutch chose in the end. Micah and Bill, who have both abused him with racist remarks, who think the answer to everything is to shoot it? Is this who he really is? He’s sold his principles for nothing. So I don’t think he goes with Bill and Dutch. I have him wandering Central and South America for a time, but he finds no answers there, and nowhere he belongs that would help set the balance within him right. Sometime before 1911, he ends up in Mexico, and drifts into the role of the strongarm for Agustin Allende, the kind of man he used to despise and fight against. A man who abuses people, abuses power. But he deserves no better than this now, does he? He made his choice. In 1911, John finds him. And as opposed to Bill, who shoots John readily, it’s interesting that Javier never tries to fight him. He’s been working as a hitman, a level the Van Der Lindes never sank to (given both Dutch and Arthur clearly state to Bronte and Jean-Marc respectively that they’re not paid killers.) So he’s a man of ready violence. But he quietly tries to talk John down first. Then he tries to escape. Never once reaches for his gun. He only gets angry if John captures him alive, and then starts spitting some insults after being dumped in a jail cell. I honestly think he was hoping John would kill him, because he’s had to live knowing what a huge mistake he made, and what it cost him. John’s made it clear it’s a mercenary situation, and he’s desperate to save Abigail and Jack: “it’s your or me, and I figure it might as well be you.” Javier can maybe even accept that. But John doesn’t even think he’s worth killing anymore, and how much of a “fuck you” is that? He’s got Sadie’s deathwish, but hers makes her reckless, whereas I think Javier’s just makes him empty.

#javier escuella #arthur morgan #rdr2 #rdr1 #thank you for coming to my red talk

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kob131 · 5 years

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Someone raising a stink over Barb's "It's a cartoon" remark again, and one reply calling her an idiot for it: twitter(.)com/RavenWood505/status/1188442588115808262

“Hatedoms aren’t really a thing-”

*looks behind Mediaocrity to see Digibro and several thousand people waiting to shit on something SAO related.*

*Also sees Mediaocrity bitching about the creators of RWBY not acting like his criticism is from God himself*

... Yeah, wanna try that again?

“The people who are ragging on RWBY are people who were invested-”

Being invested in something is not divorced from hate. A racist is invested in people of the race they hate. Someone with a vendetta against someone else is invested in that person. The definition of invest in this situation is literal “to involve or engage especially emotionally”. Note how NONE of that involves being positive, if just has a positive connotation.

And even IF the people who rag against RWBY were invested positively: they do not stay that way. Emotions and intentions change. I can think of a certain group of Pokemon ‘fans’ who regularly want to burn the company and the series to the ground. We call them Genwunners.

Likewise, the ONE guy you try to use as an example is a perfect example of this (FloofArtist). he repeatedly tries to antagonize people who are fans of RWBY ALONE, treats anyone who likes RWBY like they’re mentally retarded, often spreads misinformation about the creators and accuses them of serious shit.

You’re not convincing.

“Why is it that a show about individuality attracts people who like to put people into boxes-’

Call me back when the group of asshats preaching acceptance of criticism don’t immediately react to criticism worse than targets (What’s the worst the CRWBY have done “I don’t want to take your bullshit”? “Don’t like it Don’t watch”? Cool, let me know when they smack talk a critic of theirs by mentioning their dead friend AND FAMILY MEMBER,repeatedly using said dead family member as a means of controlling the critic, using the dead person’s own words to try and control the person while treating them as a slave. You’ll have a fraction of a facet of bullshit you people spew).

I choose that example for a reason too. Remember that one guy who told Miles Luna to get back to work in the most demeaning way possible then exploded when he was criticized, trying to use Monty’s words to make Miles listen to him and Miles responded by chewing him out in a retweet?

Yeah well that guy responded here and instead of, oh I don’t know, chewing out the guy personally responsible for, at least, giving the RWBY stans a boogeyman to point to: the tweeter did nothing. Fuck, even I’ll call out Unicorn of War out on his shit and that guy’s worse.

And then he talks about shippers...which just ends up as a circus. Why? Well, replace any mention of ‘shippers’ or ‘Wasps/Bees ect.’ with ‘Hatedom’ and you have what I‘ve been saying for years.

He even shows a screenshot of someone being blocked by Barbara as an example of creators being bad Remember Floof, the guy Mediaocrity defended? Yeah I’m blocked from him. So guess that means Mediaocrity thinks Floof’s full of shit, let him know.

Expanding on this even further, he tries to end that bullshit with the story Of Floof and RTX...ignoring one detail. Floof asked the question ‘How did they get Pyrrha’s armor’? And Barbara yelled ‘it’s just a cartoon’ because it’s a pretty fuking specific ad pedantic question. See, the thing is, Floof also asked about Dust and Aura...OVER TWITTER. The guy had a much more serious and substantial question waiting in the wings, one that would JUSTIFY being angry about what Barbara said...and he asks it OVER TWITTER, NOT ACE TO FACE. Hey Mediocrity, remember when you talked earlier about asking the serious questions? How come yo didn’t roast Floof’s ass for handing Barbara an opportunity to be condescending on a silver platter?

... Oh right,because he’s your friend an god forbid you have to criticize someone in your camp.

The only thing I agree with is that ‘RWBY isn’t special’ (which according to the critics meas Mediaocrity plagiarized me since I openly said it on the reddit) and ‘The creators should ignore the fans’(in particular, he power hungry wannabe dictators among the critics).

As for the tweet itself: just someone jacking off in public. Nothing new.

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chiseler · 5 years

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Myrna Loy: Keeping Cool

If an actor is said to be “underplaying,” what does that mean exactly? It might mean not doing the obvious thing and not displaying the obvious emotion. Or it might mean feeling various emotions but holding them back and only sharing a tiny portion of them. This is a risky strategy, because most audiences might just think you can’t “act,” at least not in the expected way. When Myrna Loy made The Rains Came (1939), she was thirty-four years old and an established star. The film is what used to be called a “well-mounted” production, filled with dramatic incident and exotic settings and lots of extras and love crises and natural disasters. The role of Lady Edwina Esketh, a dissolute, promiscuous noblewoman who redeems herself through sacrifice and love, would seem to provide a juicy opportunity for showboating. It’s easy to imagine Bette Davis in the role, her eyes popping with restless desire. Whereas Loy had the kind of eyes that always seemed half-closed even when they weren’t.

Loy’s playing of Lady Esketh is cool, modest, almost non-committal, and this approach can seem alienating at first, but if you focus closely on what she’s doing, her under-the-radar work starts to pay dividends. The film’s producer Darryl Zanuck called her into his office midway through the shooting and complained about her performance, but Loy stuck to her own interpretation. She was known for her dry handling of light comedy, high comedy, even farce, and she refuses to play Lady Esketh full out as temperamental or mercurial, as practically any other actress of her time would have done. Instead, Loy keeps her cards close to her vest and lets her knowing attitude do the rest. Her expressive voice is light and almost fey, but very grounded, with ringing intonations, and this makes it different from a huskier yet more vacillating voice like Jean Arthur’s.

Even when Lady Esketh changes her tune, Loy doesn’t go all Noble. In fact, underneath the self-sacrifice her Lady Esketh seems to be as flip and above-it-all as ever, somehow, and this works well for the film. “I hate scenes,” she tells her lover George Brent, and this would be a laugh line for a Davis or a Joan Crawford, but Loy is an actress who actually does hate “scenes” or drama. She’s basically detached, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have feelings. It’s just that she doesn’t parade them around as other performers do.

This instinct Loy had for underplaying didn’t always work out so well. In Parnell (1937), Loy and Clark Gable do a lot of walking around and talking quietly to each other, and they come off like zombies in period dress. But her moderation in many other films was so unusual and original that Loy fashioned her very own type of screen character. She was almost never a working girl, but more usually a wife, a mistress, a lady with money and time for play, so fetching that she got away with lots of nose wrinkling and eyelash fluttering without ever seeming coy.

As a young girl, Loy had seen Eleonora Duse on the stage, and she had admired the restraint of that fabled actress. “Oh, I could have cried all over the place in many of my films, but it just didn’t feel right,” she said in her charming 1987 memoir, Being and Becoming. “The audience loses respect for the character. It seems that instinctively I’ve done this kind of underplaying a good deal in my work. That brand of acting had impressed me since first seeing Duse. She had an inner light, you see; you’ve got to have it…You can’t be thinking about how many people you’re having for dinner.” According to Loy in her book, nearly all of her leading men and many of the other men she met developed crushes on her, and that’s understandable. She had the damndest nose, turned up at the end and elaborately structured, and that reserved, hard-to-get manner that promised the deepest bliss if you could melt some of her reserve.

Loy was born in Montana, and she began her career early as a dancer in live prologues for silent films. She was an extra in the original Ben-Hur (1925), and for the next nine years she made eighty-odd movies, mostly in bits. As a maid in Ernst Lubitsch’s So This Is Paris (1926), Loy just walks across a room. She’s a lady in waiting to Lucrezia Borgia in Don Juan (1926) and a chorus girl in the first talking movie, The Jazz Singer (1927), and she was continually cast as vamps and tramps, often of Chinese, Latin or all-purpose “foreign” extraction.

In her first full talkie, The Desert Song (1929), Loy plays Azuri: “That name means tiger claws!” she informs us, in a hilariously BEEG! accent that she came up with herself. She’s very sexy in that movie, but she’s also making a kind of joke of sex, and this campy attitude also informs her Yasmini in John Ford’s The Black Watch (1929) and her gypsy temptress Nubi in The Squall (1929). Loy is enjoyably over the top in these roles and in some of her other vamp parts of this time, and she worked so often in this exaggerated fashion that maybe she was just all tired-out by the time she became a star in 1934 with The Thin Man, and so she made a low-key style out of this tiredness.

Loy is a hoot in The Truth About Youth (1930) as a gold-digging singer with a temper, and she was time-stoppingly lovely in her brief role in Ford’s Arrowsmith (1931). She had one promising scene with Robert Young in New Morals for Old (1932), but then the film drops her entirely. Loy steals Rouben Mamoulian’s Love Me Tonight (1932) with just a couple of naughty lines, socking them home in an attention-getting way that’s rather far removed from her later laidback delivery, but she was still being cast as vixens in racist concoctions like The Mask of Fu Manchu (1932), where her Fah Lo See delights in having men whipped, and Thirteen Women (1932), where her hypnotic half-caste takes methodical revenge on a bunch of sorority girls who spurned her. It must have taken much stamina and patience to wait out all these years and all these small and unworthy parts. She had a lead in a modern dress version of Vanity Fair (1932), which was shot in ten days at a poverty row studio, sometimes from 4AM to 4AM. Loy does an intriguingly subdued Becky Sharp, but maybe she was too exhausted to play it any other way.

The speedy director W.S. Van Dyke took her in hand in 1933 at MGM, and her parts began to improve. She thrived with John Barrymore in the sophisticated comedy Topaze (1933), and she fell in with her best partner, William Powell, in Manhattan Melodrama (1934), where she also tussled with Clark Gable. The Thin Man was made by Van Dyke in sixteen days, and it set up a long-running formula for Powell and Loy that proved irresistible. As Nick and Nora Charles, a private detective and his heiress wife, Powell and Loy struck up a bantering attitude with each other that still feels like a fresh and attainable ideal of marriage.

The mystery plots of their six Thin Man films were usually perfunctory, but that didn’t matter because audiences really came to see Nick and Nora verbally jousting and keeping each other entertained. Just listening to them is a pleasure: Powell with his deep, plummy voice and Loy with her bright, high, tinkling one. “They hit that wonderful note because he always did a wee bit too much and she underdid it, creating a grace, a charm, a chemistry,” observed George Cukor.

Nick and Nora are party people, and the running gag in their films is that they always want to get a rest or take a break but they never seem to, and that suits Loy’s Nora just fine. She married Nick for excitement and great sex and teasing that always goes right up to the edge of being dangerous but never topples over into hurt feelings (it did just one time, in After the Thin Man (1936), when Nick drunkenly mentions making a mistake and Nora for a brief moment thinks he means he was mistaken in marrying her because her family is so stuffy). Nora can be slightly dizzy, but she is also flexible and tough. “There’s a girl with hair on her chest!” says a cop in The Thin Man, after Nick and Nora have just gotten out of a scary scrape with a gunman and she comes out blithely crying for more action.

As she watches Nick shooting the ornaments off their Christmas tree in The Thin Man, Loy shoots Powell an only semi-loving “You are beyond belief” look, a very modern kind of juicily sarcastic look that is also in some sense unreadable. Nora’s love for Nick is a private and multi-leveled thing, and Loy will only reveal a small bit of it. They both see the fun or absurdity in practically any situation, even things that would irritate most of us. “We were married three years before he told me he loved me,” Nora says in The Thin Man Goes Home (1944), and she relates this in an admiring way, because they both like to avoid the obvious, or look askance at it.

The seven or so other films Loy made with Powell were often ordinary, but they were always redeemed by their give-and-take, their rapport, his two-drinks-in silliness and her quizzical, nearly deadpan reaction to him. Loy is at her peak in Libeled Lady (1936), playing a quasi-bitch in the first half but then softening beautifully when she falls for Powell. It’s clear that she’s a former dancer because she always moves gracefully, and distinctively: there’s a difference between the louche posture of her call girl in Penthouse (1933) and the ramrod straight posture of her rich playgirl in Libeled Lady, which suffers from unimaginative direction from Jack Conway. Loy too seldom worked with top directors. She’s at her womanly best in Test Pilot (1938) with Gable and Spencer Tracy, and she brought all of her tenderness to the smallish role of the wife in her most famous movie, William Wyler’s The Best Years of Our Lives (1946), but it seems a shame that she never worked at length for Lubitsch, or Preston Sturges, or Howard Hawks.

As an older woman, Loy concentrated on progressive politics as her career wound down. She played one hilariously timed scene where she fussily picks paint colors in Mr. Blandings Builds His Dream House (1948), but she had little chemistry with Cary Grant, who needed a more extreme woman to react to. Loy was a mother and feminist heroine in Belles on Their Toes (1952) and she worked in a more histrionic vein in Lonelyhearts (1959) and From the Terrace (1960), proving that she could play this way if she wanted to, but it isn’t much fun seeing her argue with a nasty Robert Ryan or stumble around drunk as Paul Newman’s mother, so far from her usual context.

She worked on stage and bowed out gracefully with Summer Solstice (1981), a short teleplay about an aged married couple where she was still teasing and fun loving with her mate, Henry Fonda. They called Loy the perfect wife, but her own four marriages didn’t work out, and the second one, to rental car heir John Hertz, Jr., was particularly bad. Hertz gave her a black eye once, and surely there is a special place reserved in hell for the man who gave Myrna Loy a black eye. As so often with these stars, real life did not live up to screen life, and she herself did not get enough of the pleasure that she gave to us.

Loy was one of the rare stars who seems to have been much like the person we see on screen: tolerant, sophisticated, nice without being sugary, dignified without being rigid, treating life with amused sang-froid. She was the sexiest and smartest of role models, all the more attractive and suggestive for keeping so many things to herself.

by Dan Callahan

#Dan Callahan #The Chiseler #Myrna Loy #Keeping Cool

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