#arthur x online character

[nataliabdraws]

Since you all seemed to like my last Ramona and Arthur art here are more!! They are so fun to draw

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 10 - Since Last I Held That Hand In Mine

Summary: The Course of True Love and other Revelations

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

AN: ~8k words, I want to start tagging people in the next chapters. So if you'd like to be tagged when I post let me know!

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

As the soft light of dawn filtered through the trees, the melodious chorus of birdsong stirred Kate from her slumber. Rising from her cot, she welcomed the new day with a sense of purpose. Arthur's unexpected kiss last night had left her reeling, yet she felt its undeniable reality like the solid ground beneath her feet.

From the moment they first met, something about Arthur had intrigued her—an unspoken vulnerability beneath his tough exterior. She glimpsed it again last night, in the tender way he cradled Jack and the gentle touch of his calloused hands against her cheek. His kiss carried a longing, a shared ache that resonated with her own soul.

Despite the stories she had heard about Arthur's reputation as an outlaw, Kate refused to believe that violence defined him. She sensed a yearning for a better life within him, much like her own. He desired a world where strength did not equate to brutality, where he could shed the role of a hardened outlaw for something more tender and genuine.

With a satisfying stretch, Kate rose from her cot and cast a glance toward Arthur's tent, finding it empty—an indication that he was already up and about. Determined to catch him, she made her way over to the chuck wagon, exchanging greetings with others in camp as she helped herself to breakfast. Despite her hopes of a shared meal, she realized Arthur must have been out working already. Slightly disappointed, she sat alone, her thoughts lingering on their fleeting moment and the desire for another chance to talk.

As the day passed swiftly, Kate kept an eye out for Arthur's return, but to her surprise, he hadn't shown up by dinner. Contemplating waiting through the evening, she hesitated, feeling the ache of sore muscles from chopping wood and hauling buckets of water. Eventually, she resigned herself to the night, hoping for a better opportunity in the morning.

The following day mirrored the routine—Kate rising early, only to find Arthur's tent deserted once more. Concern gnawed at her as she asked Karen, who had been on guard duty the previous night, if Arthur had returned. The answer was no, leaving Kate troubled and wondering about the cause of his absence.

By the evening of the third day, Kate's worry had escalated into a swirling storm of thoughts. Had she said or done something to upset him? Did Arthur regret their shared kiss, causing him to avoid her? Unable to find solace in uncertainty, she tossed and turned that night, her mind racing with possibilities and unanswered questions.

The next morning, Kate was roused from sleep by the rhythmic sound of approaching hoofbeats. Her heart quickened with hope, expecting to catch a glimpse of Arthur's brilliant white mare, Belle. However, it was Charles arriving on Taima, dismounting with a few pheasants in tow. Kate rubbed her temple, frustrated with herself for feeling so eager. Since when have I become such a lovesick maiden? She thought bitterly, pushing the thoughts aside. Determined to appear nonchalant, she pulled on her boots and made her way over to Charles by the hitching post.

"Morning, Charles," she greeted, leaning casually against the post.

"Good morning, Kate," Charles replied warmly.

She couldn't hide the uncertainty in her voice. "Have you seen Arthur lately? I, um, wanted to talk with him about something."

Charles glanced back toward the trail. "He should be back any minute. I ran into him on my way in. I think he was out with Trelawny for a bit, robbing a stagecoach or something," he muttered, focusing on his hunt.

Kate blew out a breath and turned back toward camp, searching for some work to distract her while she waited for Arthur's return. To her surprise, she noticed Hosea waving to her from the center of camp. He sat comfortably in a folding chair, a newspaper folded in his lap.

"How's the heat treating that bullet wound?" Hosea asked, his tone friendly yet concerned.

Kate placed a hand over her stitches. "Aside from sweating through all the cloth, I'd say it's healing just fine," she replied with a smile. "And how are you feeling?"

Hosea waved off her concern with a chuckle. "I'm as good as they come, sweetheart, just an antique in need of a little polish, is all." He motioned for Kate to take a seat across from him, and she obliged.

"I've been thinking," Hosea continued, "you're a smart woman, and we could certainly use your help in this mess we've found ourselves in between the two dumbest families in Lemoyne."

Kate was about to voice her concern when Hosea cut in again. "Now, Arthur's told me you like to keep your nose out of trouble, and I don't blame you. Although it's not that easy when you're surrounded by a bunch of half-wits," he chuckled dryly.

Her mind lingered on the second part of their conversation. Arthur talked about me with him?

"I was thinking you and Arthur could go explore the Gray's plantation, talk to some folks, see what you can find out. Nothing illegal, no harming anybody, just gathering information."

Kate's face brightened at the prospect of spending the day with Arthur, even if it meant work. "I'd be happy to help, Hosea. I'll do my best to gather whatever information we need," she replied eagerly, a spark of determination in her eyes.

"Atta girl," Hosea nodded approvingly before calling out to Arthur, who had just returned to camp. "Arthur! Come join us. We're discussing a little venture for you and Kate. Think you two can handle Caliga Hall today?"

Arthur approached them with a warm smile, leaning casually against the post of the awning to escape the relentless sun. "I'm gone for three days, and suddenly you wanna run with the outlaws?" he teased, nodding towards Kate. "I thought you wanted to keep out of trouble."

Kate leaned back in her chair, a hint of smugness in her tone. "Last I checked, I've been running with outlaws for the past three weeks. Besides, there's no harm in talking to folks," she retorted confidently.

Arthur chuckled and shook his head. "Well, Miss McCanon, wherever I go, trouble always seems to find me. You sure you want to go?"

Kate wasn't sure why Arthur was using formalities with her all of a sudden. Was he being playful or trying to create distance? Whatever his intentions, she was determined to find out. "I think you know better than most, Mr. Morgan. I can handle myself just fine," she replied, emphasizing the formality of his name.

Arthur chortled as he gestured for Kate to follow him towards the horses. "Well, c’mon then woman. We've got work to do!"

Kate glanced back at Hosea, who wore a knowing smile as he returned to his newspaper. It seemed as though everything had gone according to his plan. She began to wonder if he had invited her on purpose, giving the two of them a chance to talk alone.

Kate felt suddenly nervous as she followed Arthur towards the horses. His playful demeanor and the sudden use of her formal name had sparked a whirlwind of questions in her head. Was he trying to keep their interactions professional, given their recent intimate moment? Or perhaps he was trying to mask his own feelings, unsure of how to navigate the situation himself.

As they reached the horses, Kate grabbed the reins of her mare, Lorena, and glanced over at Arthur, who was securing his saddlebag. She couldn't shake the feeling of uncertainty that lingered between them. A part of her felt a flutter of nerves. What if she misread the situation? What if their connection meant more to her than it did to him? She longed to talk to him about it, but found herself unsure how to broach the subject. 

As they rode through the bustling streets of Rhodes and then onto the dusty road leading to Caliga Hall, Arthur began to fill Kate in on his recent adventures. The past three days had been eventful, to say the least. Trelawny had tipped him off about a lucrative stagecoach passing through Rhodes, but tracking down the informant had taken longer than expected.

Arthur's voice was tinged with gravity as he recounted the ordeal. "Took me nearly two days to track down Trelawny. Turns out, the poor bastard had been snatched up by bounty hunters. They roughed him up pretty good too." His words were laced with concern, and she couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt for her earlier assumptions.

Kate listened intently, the rhythmic clop of their horses' hooves matching the steady pace of Arthur's story. The reality of their lives as outlaws became all too clear in that moment. Here they were, riding through the sunlit countryside, but the shadows of danger loomed ever closer. Trouble always seems to find me, and he wasn’t lying.

As Arthur finished recounting the past few days, some of Kate's concerns melted away. She realized how trivial her worries about their recent encounter had been. Arthur had been preoccupied with far weightier matters, yet he was here now, by her side. Perhaps his mind had raced with a million thoughts as well. 

"I'm sorry, Arthur," Kate said softly, her gaze fixed ahead on the winding road, “I hope your friend is alright. It sounds like you two have been through a lot.” 

Arthur turned to her, his expression softening. "No need to apologize, Kate. S’just part of the life we lead. Besides, it's good to be out here with you, away from all the chaos."

A soft flush crept up Kate's cheeks at Arthur's compliment, and for a fleeting moment, she entertained the idea of abandoning their mission altogether. The notion of spending the afternoon riding together, engaged in easy conversation, tugged at her thoughts like a gentle breeze. She longed to feel his lips on hers once more, the memory vivid in her mind—the taste of his mouth, the comforting scent of his presence.

With a bashful smile, Kate turned her gaze away, her attention drawn to the dusty road ahead. The path was flanked by open fields, the sprawling land filled with tobacco plants. As they approached the grand entrance of Caliga Hall, the imposing structure loomed in the distance, a reminder of the task that awaited them. 

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Kate marveled at the ease with which they slipped past the guards, thanks to Arthur's clever use of his newly acquired Sheriff badge and her guise as a journalist. The ruse seemed to fit naturally, lending an air of legitimacy to their visit. Their pretext? To delve into the rich history of the Gray family—a tale that promised intrigue and secrets.

Navigating through the vast estate, they engaged with a few hesitant workers, who reluctantly directed them toward Beau Gray, the youngest son of the family. The workers seemed wary, reluctant to speak openly about their employer, but they hinted that Beau was known for being talkative, perhaps to a fault.

They finally located Beau outside a tool shed, engrossed in scribbling a letter on an open book, seemingly evading his labor duties. His demeanor suggested a man eager for distraction, a perfect opportunity for Kate and Arthur to unravel the mysteries veiled within the Gray family legacy.

"Mr. Gray?" Arthur inquired, breaking the young man's focus from his notes.

Beau looked up with curiosity, setting aside his notation, “that would be my father, you can just call me Beau,” he replied, extending a hand towards Arthur before acknowledging Kate. “Hello miss,” he greeted with a nod, “what can I do for you friends?” 

Arthur, ever the jester, retorted, "Oh, we's friends now, are we?" 

Beau chuckled, his eyes crinkling with amusement. "Not yet, but here's hoping," he quipped, flashing a friendly smile. "You know, we don't get a lot of traveling men around here, and suddenly there's a whole phalanx of mysterious, yet strangely helpful Yankees about the place." 

Arthur's hand unconsciously drifted to his gun belt as the other scratched his chin. "Is that so?" he replied, intrigued by Beau's sudden observation. 

Sensing the tension, Kate interjected, "Mr. Gray—sorry, Beau—we'd just like to ask you some questions about your family. You see, we're writing an article for the paper about your tobacco fields. The plantation has been quite successful, especially since the war." 

Beau eyed her with suspicion, snapping his book closed. "And what did you say your name was, Miss?"

Kate hesitated, feeling the weight of her fabricated identity. "I'm Madeleine. Madeleine McCanon," she stammered, her confidence waning.

"Miss Madeleine, you're either a terrible journalist or an exceptional bullshitter," Beau teased with a grin. "Nobody in this old dust bucket town gives a damn about our tobacco fields. They're too busy getting drunk off the Braithwaites' moonshine." 

Kate gawked, “I um, well we—you see we’re just,” she stumbled over the words. Arthur eyed the young man with a threatening gaze. 

Suddenly, Beau burst into laughter, slapping his book against his thigh. "I'm just messin' with ya, Miss! I can tell you're looking for something. And it ain't some groundbreaking story. Don't worry, your secret's safe with me," he assured with a wink.

Kate flushed with embarrassment, unsure if she had just blown their cover.  Was I really that obvious? Perhaps they weren’t the first travelers to sniff around their family feud. Arthur smirked under his hat and hid his gaze from Kate, it amused him to see her so flustered on her first job. Especially since she had teased him so many times with her own playful jabs. 

Arthur maintained his facade as a simple sheriff. "I don't know nothin' 'bout a secret," he replied casually, playing along with the charade. 

"Well, I got a secret of my own," Beau announced, setting his book down on a nearby wooden crate.

"You secretly normal?" Arthur quipped under his breath, shooting a quick glance at Kate.

Beau raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"Nothin’," Arthur muttered, scratching the back of his neck. Kate swallowed a laugh at Arthur's impatience with the boy—a side of him she hadn't seen before. When he wasn't being gruff or soft, he could be surprisingly playful.

Unfazed, Beau continued, "The thing is, I don't care if you kill the whole lot of us," surprising Kate with his nonchalance, "and the Braithwaites too," he added in a hushed tone, checking around to ensure they weren't overheard.

Kate raised her hands defensively. "We ain't here to kill anyone."

"I love her, you know," Beau declared earnestly.

Arthur exhaled. "Love who?"

"Penelope," Beau replied dreamily, then shook his head. “But it's impossible, she’s a Braithewaite.” 

Kate couldn't help but smile at the young man's lovesick dream. "Love tends to be complicated," she added sympathetically. 

"I'm the son of Tavish Gray, nephew of Leigh Gray, and the grandson of old Murdo Gray," Beau paced with frustration. Arthur crossed his arms and leaned against the wooden shed, letting Beau ramble.

"We Grays have been loyal to the state. We've been murdering Braithwaites for years," Beau explained, revealing the deep-seated family feud. Kate's nerves prickled; this feud was more than stolen goods and moonshine—it was generations of bloodshed, and could get very ugly if they were not careful. 

"Why are your families so hell-bent on killing each other?" Kate asked, intrigued.

"Who the hell knows! It was so long ago nobody even remembers," Beau exclaimed, his hands waving through the air. 

Kate shot a glance at Arthur. This feud was messy, and they were tracking mud through their own home. "Sounds like a lot of blind loyalty and stupidity," she remarked.

"Exactly!" Beau exclaimed with emphasis, relieved that someone understood. "Why should I be loyal to some nonsense while she—" He paused, breathless, as thoughts of Penelope overwhelmed him. "Oh, Miss Madeleine, she's amazing."

Arthur chuckled at Beau's lovesick revelations as he continued. "She's like a woman from the future! Like tomorrow… if tomorrow turns out fine."

Kate smiled warmly, a glimmer in her eyes. Oh, to be young and in love again, she thought. She had missed that feeling—the rush of emotions, the intensity of desire. It was as if Beau and Penelope were characters straight out of Shakespeare's Romeo & Juliet, caught in the throes of a tragic family feud. Yet, despite the adversities, nothing could sever the deep bond they shared. She silently hoped their story would have a different ending than the fairytale. 

Arthur stepped away, shaking his head slightly. “Kid, I’m sorry for your predicament. But there ain't much we can do ‘bout that. We don’t wanna get involved in your family’s feud.” he said firmly as he started to walk off. Beau looked crestfallen, and Kate hung back for a moment.

Turning to her with pleading eyes, Beau implored, "Please, Miss, will you help me?" Arthur halted at his question. "I'll pay you. The Grays, we always have money."

Taking Beau's hand in hers, Kate spoke confidently, "Of course I'll help you, Beau, and please, keep your money." Arthur shot her a disapproving look, but she paid it no mind. 

Beau's face brightened as he hurriedly finished addressing his letter to Penelope. “oh thank you! Thank you miss, I know she loves to sit out in the gazebo on the edge of the Braithewaite property,” he explained, sealing the envelope with a lick. He then pulled out a small blue box from his pocket and handed it to Kate gently.  “Will you give her this bracelet too? It's real sapphire, a brilliant blue, just like her eyes.” 

Kate nodded, tucking the items into her bag. Her heart ached as she looked at Beau, wishing she could pluck the two lovebirds from their tangled nest and set them free. They deserved happiness. Families could be complicated, and blind loyalty only served to clip wings and poison blood. The least she could do was deliver a letter for him.

As they mounted their horses and set off towards Braithwaite Manor, Arthur finally voiced his thoughts on Kate's new approach to the family feud.

"So, now we're running errands for the boy with puppy eyes for some Braithwaite woman?" Arthur remarked, a tinge of bitterness in his tone. He seemed agitated that Kate had agreed to deliver the letter, for free nonetheless. "We were supposed to be gathering information, not delivering little trinkets and love letters."

"We can do both, Arthur," Kate responded calmly, her gaze steady. "We've learned that this feud runs deep and has a lot of history. We also know how influential the Grays are in this town, and they've got money—according to Beau, at least. Besides, this gives us an opportunity to speak with a Braithwaite. If Penelope is anything like Beau, she might shed some light on this mess."

Arthur sighed and shook his head. "This just seems foolish. Sneakin’ onto their property, looking for some young maiden. What if we get caught?"

Kate chuckled. "Oh, don't tell me you and Mary never snuck around," she teased. Arthur's head snapped in her direction at the mention of Mary's name. "Yeah, the girls told me all about that. You would sneak out of camp just to see her. Abigail even mentioned her father catching you two in the barn once—"

"Alright, that's enough," Arthur interjected, clearly embarrassed. "That's different. And remind me to tell the girls to quit gossipin’ about my love life," he muttered.

"It's not so different, Arthur," Kate continued, her voice softening. "It's young love. Delivering this letter is the right thing to do, the kind thing. And it might benefit us too. And don’t give me that 'what if we get caught' nonsense. You're a damn thief!" She grinned.

Arthur chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips. "Can't argue with that, I reckon.”

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As they approached the grand white manor, Arthur led the way with purpose, and Kate followed closely behind. They dismounted their mares and hitched them to a sturdy tree just shy of the estate's property line. With a finger pressed to his lips, Arthur gestured for Kate to follow him quietly.

They moved between small sheds and dense trees, keeping low to avoid the prying eyes of the guards patrolling the area. The shoreline provided some cover as they made their way toward the back of the manor. Then, just as they had hoped, they spotted a picturesque white gazebo adorned with bright yellow and pink tulips.

In the middle of the gazebo sat a young woman with a plait of golden yellow hair—Penelope Braithwaite. She was a vision against the backdrop of blooming flowers, her delicate features illuminated by the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees as she fanned herself in the heat. Kate could see how a young man like Beau would be enraptured by her. 

The two messengers approached Penelope as she sat on a chair in n the gazebo, Arthur taking the lead. "Are you Penelope Braithwaite?" he inquired politely.

"Why, yes I am," Penelope replied with a warm smile. "Who might you folks be?"

Arthur introduced himself, "Names Arthur, and this is Madel—"

"Kate," she interjected smoothly, correcting him. "Beau asked us to deliver a letter for him." Kate reached into her bag and produced the parcels, handing Penelope the letter first, followed by the small blue box, “and a gift.” 

Penelope's eyes sparkled with delight as she clutched the letters to her chest. "Oh, Beau!" she exclaimed, "he is just so—"

"Strange?" Arthur blurted out, earning a light smack on the arm from Kate and a pointed look.

Penelope giggled softly. "Well, yes, he is a bit strange. But also so human," she mused, rising to pour tea from a nearby pot. "Our families are stuck in the Dark Ages, or cave people perhaps. I don’t know," she explained, handing them each a cup of tea, which Kate accepted gratefully.

Penelope continued, her tone becoming more serious. "Beau, he's different from all that, you know? But if they found out about us, my family would kill him. And probably send me to live someplace horrible like… Ohio," she added, clearly disliking the idea.

Kate listened intently, settling into a wicker chair across from Penelope. Arthur stood to the side, leaning casually against the railing, sipping his tea as if he were content to let the women handle the conversation.

"Have you ever been to Ohio, miss?" Penelope inquired, her expression thoughtful. Kate shook her head in response.

"Well, neither have I, but my Uncle has a factory there. He was the only one to leave the family. But he’s still a vicious snob," Penelope sighed, clearly frustrated. "Families are... are..."

"Complicated," Arthur finished her sentence, his tone understanding. He placed his empty cup down on the railing and leaned back comfortably, arms crossed.

Penelope turned to Arthur, sitting up in her chair with curiosity. "Have you got a family, sir?"

Kate noticed the brief glance exchanged between them, Arthur's eyes darting away when they met hers. "No... not really, miss," Arthur answered softly, his gaze distant.

"Well, my family can’t stand me. They say my ideas are above my station," Penelope huffed, her grievances evident. "They can all rot," she added sourly.

Kate sympathized with her, she was feeling suffocated by her family, misunderstood and invisible. From what Beau had shared about the ongoing family feud and the rigid divisions between the Grays and Braithwaites, Kate could understand why Penelope felt trapped. The feud seemed to extend beyond mere disputes over land or assets; it was ingrained in their identities, dictating their choices and relationships. The gravity of their circumstances painted a vivid picture of the isolation and despair that came from being caught in such a divisive and long-standing conflict. 

As a woman of Penelope's status, Kate understood that her family would likely orchestrate a marriage, selecting a suitor deemed suitable based on social standing and economic advantage. This prospect robbed Penelope of her agency, relegating her fate to the whims of her kin. It was not a fate she wished upon anyone, unable to choose whom you love. 

Penelope pulled a delicately sealed envelope from her purse and slid it across the table toward Kate. "If you see Beau again, could you please give this to him?" she asked earnestly.

Kate smiled warmly and took the letter without hesitation. "Of course, Penelope. I'd be happy to," she replied, her eyes reflecting Penelope's joy.

The young woman beamed gratefully. "I can't thank you enough!"

After bidding Penelope farewell, Kate and Arthur retraced their steps back toward their waiting horses, moving with stealth to avoid drawing attention from the vigilant guards. As they reached the safety of their mounts, Kate turned to Arthur, anticipating his response.

"I know what you're gonna say, Arthur," she began, her tone determined. “But we still have all day. If there’s something else you need to do, I can manage here just fine." Sensing he may disapprove of another letter delivery.

Arthur mounted his horse, turning to her with a genuine smile, and fondness in his eyes, “I’m right where I need to be Kate,” his voice carrying a warmth that caught her by surprise, “lead the way.” 

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As they rode back towards Caliga Hall, the late afternoon sun bathed the landscape in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the rolling hills and reflecting off the surface of the nearby lake. The air was filled with the soft sounds of birdsong and the rhythmic clop of their horses' hooves. Kate and Arthur rode side by side, their horses moving with an easy familiarity. Occasionally, their eyes met for fleeting moments. 

Approaching the stables, the rustic wooden buildings came into view, surrounded by the verdant greenery of the estate grounds. Amidst the bustle of stable hands and horses, the figure of Beau Gray emerged, his attention wholly focused on grooming his chestnut mare.

Kate dismounted gracefully, her boots landing softly on the packed earth. Arthur followed suit, swinging down from his horse with practiced ease. With a confident stride, the two approached Beau.

The young man looked up from his task, surprise lighting up his features as he recognized Kate and Arthur approaching. A broad smile spread across his face. "You're back so soon! Did she give you anything for me?" Beau asked eagerly.

Arthur casually draped his arms over the stable gate, leaning his weight against it as Kate retrieved the parcel once again from her bag. She handed it over to Beau's anxious hands, and he snatched it eagerly. "Oh, thank you!" he exclaimed, pushing past the gate and causing Arthur to stumble backwards.

"Easy, kid. Your woman ain’t goin’ anywhere," Arthur said with a chuckle, attempting to calm Beau's excitement.

Beau tore into the letter as he moved into the sunlight, finding a seat on a nearby wooden crate. Arthur shook his head with a smile and reached up to pat the boy's horse. Meanwhile, Kate moved to where Beau was sitting and leaned against the stable wall beside him while he read the letter.

"You two make quite the pair, you know," Kate mused, her gaze softening.

Beau glanced up briefly from the letter, his eyes filled with adoration. "Penelope is my sun and my stars, Miss. I count myself lucky to be graced by her light," he said poetically. It was clear that he loved her dearly.

Beau's eyes returned to scanning the handwritten letter, and after a moment, his voice grew concerned. "My god… this woman, she is going to get herself killed," he added, his tone grave.

Kate perked up at his comment, and Arthur turned around to face them. "What did she say?" he asked, curiosity etched on his features.

Beau sighed heavily, his distress evident. "The women’s suffrage march is today. 'Round here, they don’t even like the idea of men voting. They’d bring back the monarchy if they were given half the chance," he said with a bitter tone, placing a hand on his forehead in distress. "Progress is a dirty word in these parts, unlike incest," he added bitterly, folding the letter and sliding it into his back pocket.

He paced the floor of the stable, biting his nails eagerly as he continued to rant. "They want me to marry my cousin Matilda!" Kate grimaced at the idea. "I want to marry Penelope!" Beau's movements quickened, displaying the helplessness he felt in his heart. "They’re gonna—oh, her family will kill her if they know she’s at the rally!"

Kate intercepted his movements and placed her hands on his shoulders. "Take a breath, Beau," she urged, her voice calm.

But he seemed unable to calm down, continuing his lamentation and shaking his head at Kate. "They’ve done it before, miss. They locked her older sister in some old shed and left her there to die, all because she tried to run away."

"Shit," Arthur muttered under his breath, his expression darkening with concern.

Kate nodded understandingly, masking the fear that rose in her own heart. Their families were brutal, not only killing each other but murdering their own kin. Beau was not lying; Penelope would be harmed if something was not done. "What can we do?" she asked calmly.

"You’ve gotta help me," Beau pleaded, desperation clear in his eyes.

Kate nodded firmly, her resolve clear. "Of course we will, Beau. Where is the rally? We should get moving quickly." The young man eagerly nodded in response, slipping from her grasp to immediately start saddling the horse he had been brushing just moments ago.

Arthur stepped closer to Kate, his expression no longer one of annoyance but of genuine concern. He spoke in a low voice near her ear, his tone serious. "You know this is more than just runnin’ love letters now. This could get real ugly," he warned.

Meeting his gaze with determination, Kate replied firmly, "Nobody is dying today if I can help it. And I can’t in good conscience let them take this on alone. They’re just kids, Arthur."

He nodded with a solemn smile, a flicker of admiration in his eyes. "You're a good woman, Kate," he said quietly.

Their moment was interrupted by Beau's urgent voice. "We're losing time, mount up!" he called out, already heading down the dirt path.

Kate and Arthur swiftly climbed into their saddles, ready to follow. "Slow down, kid!" Arthur shouted after Beau, who was racing ahead.

"If we don’t get there in time, my true love might be shot!" Beau retorted, his voice filled with worry as they tried to close the distance.

Arthur nudged his mare forward to catch up with Beau. "Listen, Beau. If she wants to rally, you gotta let her rally. It’s her choice," he advised.

"As good as the cause is, Mr., I can’t let her become a martyr for it," Beau replied earnestly. "I can’t marry some statue built in her honor."

"She's a smart woman, I'm sure she knows what she's doing," Arthur reassured him, his voice calm yet firm.

With Beau leading the way like a knight in shining armor, the trio left the plantation behind, galloping down the road toward Rhodes. The urgency in Beau's movements reflected his determination to reach his beloved in time.

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They swiftly approached the wagon at the intersection leading into Rhodes, where women gathered around the sides holding up signs, preparing to march for their rights. Kate was awestruck by the turnout—a formidable group of determined women, their resilience and strength on full display.

Beau nearly threw himself out of the saddle and approached Penelope eagerly, who looked shocked at the sight of him. “What are you doing here?” she said earnestly.

Beau took her hands in his own, pleading, “I cannot let you go through with this, my love,” Penelope pulled her hands away disapprovingly, “they’ll kill you!” he urged.

“I’m ready to die for the cause,” she said rather dramatically, puffing out her chest and standing tall.

The young man gawked, his head turning between Penelope and Arthur before focusing on him altogether. “Do something, please!”

Arthur chuckled with a shake of his head, “Do what? Fight this mob?” He gestured to the group of women as the leader of the march gave a speech from atop a soapbox. “They’d eat me alive,” he quipped.

“This is not a laughing matter, sir! They need protection, mostly from my family. My uncle is the sheriff of this town, remember?” Beau said earnestly, turning his attention back to Penelope. “My darling, I beg you.”

Kate stepped between the two squabbling love birds, a determined look on her face. “I’ll tell you what, why doesn’t Arthur drive the wagon for you? That way you can focus on making your voices heard,” she suggested with a warm smile. “Beau and I will ride alongside you, keeping our eyes peeled for any signs of trouble.”

“Sure thing,” Arthur agreed, adjusting his hat. “I can handle that for you.”

Penelope beamed with gratitude. “That would be wonderful!”

Beau looked down, defeated, and Kate gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder before they headed back to their horses. His lover climbed into the back of the wagon with the other girls as Arthur took up the reins.

Kate paused beside Beau, offering him heartfelt advice. “Beau, that woman of yours is like forged iron—strong, resilient, meant to withstand the heat. But if you try to hold her back, she'll start to rust. Let her show her strength, encourage her resilience. Support her, and you'll both turn out just fine.”

They followed along the back of the wagon as it began to steadily move down the dusty streets of Rhodes. Beau looked up at Kate with gratitude. “Thanks, Miss. I really appreciate that.”

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Kate found something profoundly captivating about forbidden love. It defied all reason and logic, drawing strength from adversity. Their love was a testament to resilience, a beacon of hope amidst turmoil. Despite every obstacle life threw their way, their love persisted like a flame in the dark, unwavering and enduring. It was a reminder of the spirit of young hearts, yearning for connection and understanding in a world fraught with division. The human desire to be loved would stretch across any ocean, face any storm. Kate wondered if Arthur's heart had felt like a hurricane the night they kissed, much like hers did.

As the wagon reached the end of the road near the bank, Arthur smoothly dismounted from the driver's seat and extended a hand to assist Penelope down. They had drawn quite a crowd—angry, drunken men stumbled out from their homes, shouting lewd remarks at the women.

“Mr. Morgan, I present to you the male of the species,” Penelope remarked sourly.

Arthur chuckled and rubbed his neck. “It’s a pretty dumb specimen, I’ll grant you that.”

The leader of the march ascended the stairs and resumed her impassioned speech. Arthur scanned the crowd and spotted Beau and Kate standing to the side of the building. Kate kept a watchful eye on the proceedings, while Beau's attention was solely focused on Penelope. Arthur noticed two men approaching them and decided to intervene.

“What are you doing here, boy?” demanded a balding man with a large gut, addressing Beau.

Without turning to meet his gaze, Beau replied sarcastically, “Hello, darling cousin.”

The man raised his hand as if to strike Beau. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that! Now answer me, what are you doing here?”

Beau sighed, showing annoyance but remaining unfazed by his cousin. “Trying to listen, I suppose,” he answered casually. Kate edged closer to Beau, assessing whether these men posed a threat. She shared a quick glance with Arthur, who was making his way towards them.

“Haven't you got something better to do? You cocky little—” The man raised his fist again, only to find Arthur gripping his wrist firmly. “What the?”

Swiftly, Kate positioned herself behind the second man and gently squeezed his shoulder. “We were just leaving,” she said calmly. “No need to get up in arms.”

“Who the hell are you?” the other man demanded.

“Like the lady said, we were just leaving,” Arthur repeated, guiding Beau away from the confrontation. They moved quietly to the back of the bank, out of earshot of Beau's relatives.

Once they felt they were out of immediate danger, Arthur chuckled and clapped a hand on Beau's back. “You know, I ain’t never voted before, but I'm kinda gettin’ hot for voting rights,” he joked.

Beau pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to hide his smile. “I don’t know whether to take you seriously, Mr. Morgan,” he sighed. “My cousins are a cause for concern. If they found out about Penelope and me…”

“I think everyone already knows about Penelope and you,” Arthur said sympathetically. “I just met you and I already know about Penelope and you.”

Kate turned to them, adjusting her hat. “Beau, I think it's for the best if you just rip the band-aid clean off. The sooner it's out, the sooner it's resolved.”

The young man sighed deeply. “Our families, we bury our secrets and we bury them deep. If we come clean about this, we would both end up buried under some silo next week. That’s our family's idea of resolved.”

Kate and Arthur exchanged a sympathetic look. “Listen kid, I think you and the girl need to leave. Get out of here while you still can,” Arthur advised reassuringly.

The trio made their way over to their horses, the sounds of the women's rally having died down in the bacground. “I will,” Beau said hopefully. “Once I have enough money. My family, well, they have plenty of money. But I don't.” He glanced back toward where Penelope mingled with the crowd. “I love her, I truly do.”

“Well, if you stay long enough, maybe you’ll die for her too,” Arthur said gravely.

“I thought you were trying to make me feel better,” Beau quipped with a smirk. “But I should probably go before my cousins find me again.” He reached out a hand and shook Arthur's firmly. “I appreciate your help, Mr. Morgan.” Then he turned to Kate and did the same. “Miss, I can’t thank you enough for your kindness. I hope I see you again sometime.”

Kate placed her hand over his and smiled warmly. “And I hope that when we do, it's far away from this nonsense,” she added with a wink.

Beau mounted his horse and took off down the dirt road back toward the plantation. Turning her attention back to Arthur, a satisfying smile tugged at her lips as the two climbed into the saddle of their own mares and made their way out of town.

━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

As evening settled in gracefully, casting a golden glow over the landscape, Arthur and Kate found themselves in a secluded haven about a mile from camp. They nestled into the soft grass near the serene shoreline of the lake, savoring a well-earned meal together. The air was filled with the delightful aroma of flowers, and the melodic song of mourning doves mingled with the soft rustle of leaves.

They laid out a simple feast of canned strawberries, crackers, and cheese, enjoying each bite amidst the tranquility of nature. The sun, now dipping toward the horizon, painted the sky with hues of orange and pink, casting a warm and comforting light over the scene. The gentle breeze carried with it the whispers of the day, bringing a sense of peace and contentment.

Their horses, nearby but unbothered, grazed leisurely on the lush grass, grateful for the treat after the day's journey. As they shared this quiet moment together, the beauty of the surroundings seemed to mirror the warmth and closeness between them, creating a space of solace and connection away from the chaos of the world. 

Arthur removed his hat and laid back in the grass, he watched as Kate sat next to him, her eyes fixed on the changing colors dancing across the water's surface. In the warm glow of the sun, Arthur couldn't help but admire Kate's profile—the graceful curve of her nose, the delicate sweep of her eyelashes, the soft contour of her lips. Memories of the night they kissed stirred within him, a rush of nerves mingling with a sense of doubt. The past three days his mind had wrestled over the moment. 

As if sensing his gaze, Kate turned to meet his eyes, her own radiating warmth like the sun's gentle embrace., “I had a great time with you today,” she said softly, her voice carrying the weight of shared moments. “Thank you for staying with me, and helping those young love birds.” She smiled.

Arthur nodded, a slight breeze tousling Kate's hair. They sat so close the wind brought her scent right to his lungs, he could smell the lavender shampoo she used, and the sweet smell of strawberries on her breath. His heart began to thump loudly in his ears, the familiarity of her presence stirring something within him. “You certainly make it hard to say no,” he remarked with a faint smile, “those two make quite the pair. You think they'll be alright in the end?” 

Kate sighed wistfully, stretching out on her back beside him, their shoulders brushing lightly. "I know they'll figure it out," she said, her gaze drifting upward to the evening sky. "They're smart kids. They deserve happiness, especially in the midst of all they’ve been through." 

Arthur glanced skyward too, clouds morphing into shapes above them. "If only it turned out that way for everyone," he murmured quietly. 

Turning her attention back to him, Kate watched the gentle rise and fall of his chest, and studied the rough features of his face. She noticed the small scar on his chin beneath his beard. The dimple at the bottom of his nose, and the way it was slightly crooked. No doubt from a bar fight. Feeling bold, she snaked her hand through the grass until she felt the gentle warmth of his fingers. Sliding her own beneath his palm, seeking his touch. 

Arthur turned to her, his expression slightly surprised. The air between them felt charged, filled with unspoken words that seemed to hang in the balance. As Kate sat up, she extended her hand to stroke his cheek, feeling the softness of his beard beneath her fingertips. Butterflies fluttered in her stomach, and she summoned her courage.

"Arthur," she whispered, her voice barely audible, "I want to kiss you again."

Arthur's throat tightened, his thoughts obscured by shadows of uncertainty. He gently released her hand from his cheek, but retained it in his own grasp, his touch conveying a mix of affection and restraint. He looked into her eyes, which held a sea of anticipation and vulnerability.

Kate blinked, her breath caught momentarily. The response she received was not what she had expected, and a flicker of disappointment passed over her features.

"Sweetheart," Arthur murmured softly, his thumb tracing gentle circles on her skin, "you're a good woman. I know that. But I’m not some starry-eyed, lovesick teenager anymore." His voice carried a raw honesty, revealing a vulnerability rarely seen. "I–I’m not a," He faltered, avoiding her gaze, his thumb seeking reassurance along the ridges of her knuckles. "I'm mean, nasty, and ugly. You, you’re kind, honest, and beautiful. I ain’t the kind of man you deserve."

Kate's eyes traced the shadows on his face cast by the setting sun, her heart heavy with understanding. She couldn't bear the weight of his self-doubt. "I don’t think that's true at all," she said softly, her voice a blend of compassion and conviction. "Arthur, you’ve got a good heart. Maybe it’s been hardened by life, but I see the man you are beneath it all."

Arthur glanced down, and Kate lifted her hand, placing it gently under his chin to urge him to meet her gaze. "We’ve all got our scars," she continued, her eyes reflecting unwavering sincerity. "But those scars don’t define who we are. You’re strong, and you’re capable of kindness. I see it in you."

Arthur's expression softened, his gaze meeting hers with a mixture of gratitude and doubt. “Kate,” he murmured, his voice wavering. “I’ve seen things. Done things... I ain’t proud of. It’s just who I am, and I know I’m only gonna disappoint you.”

“But I’ve seen you stand up for what’s right,” Kate replied, her voice steady.

The air around them seemed to hold its breath, the evening sunlight filtering through the trees casting dappled patterns on their intertwined hands. Kate's touch was a silent reassurance, a gesture of unwavering support amidst the unspoken fears that haunted Arthur's mind.

As they sat there, a tranquil moment enveloped them, broken only by the rustle of leaves and the distant call of birds. Kate continued to hold his gaze, her eyes conveying a quiet determination. She believed in the goodness that lay beneath Arthur's hardened exterior, in the man he could be if given the chance.

Arthur had built walls around his heart, layers of protection forged from past regrets and hardships. But Kate was stubborn, undettered to find the cracks in those walls and gently chip away at them, revealing the heart within. She knew that beneath the rough exterior, Arthur deserved to feel the love and acceptance he had denied himself for too long.

“I’m sorry, Kate, but I can’t drag you down with me,” Arthur finally confessed, his voice heavy with regret, his inner turmoil laid bare by the words he spoke. He sat up abruptly, and Kate's hand fell into her lap. She longed to speak, to plead with him to stay and open up, but she sensed his nerves, his vulnerability. This was difficult for him, and he was struggling with his own demons. She realized this wouldn’t be easy. Real love takes time, effort, and patience.

“It’s getting late, we should head back,” he said standing, mounting Belle a moment later. Kate followed closely behind, settling into Lorena’s saddle. 

As Arthur led the way back to camp with a steady gait, Kate rode behind, her gaze fixed on the broad back of the man she was beginning to understand more deeply. Shadows lengthened in the fading light, casting an ethereal glow over the landscape, but within Arthur's heart, she sensed a darkness that transcended the approaching night.

She noticed how his shoulders tensed and relaxed with each movement of Belle beneath him, as if he carried the weight of the world on his broad frame. The air seemed charged with unspoken emotions, heavy with the weight of his doubts and fears.

Kate's heart ached with a newfound ambition. She knew Arthur wanted to be held like a knife—sharp and unyielding—but she was determined to hold him like water, gentle and patient, allowing his ambiguity and unease to slip through her fingers. She longed to reveal what glimmered beneath the surface of this complex man, to show him the capacity for tenderness and love that he believed himself unworthy of.

As they rode on, the setting sun painted the sky in hues of gold and amber, the trees casting a long shadowy figure across the path. Kate's thoughts swirled like the breeze around them, grappling with the intensity of her feelings for Arthur and her resolve to break through the walls he had erected around his heart, and reveal the silver lining.

"I've got nothing but time, Arthur Morgan," she murmured, her voice a whisper on the wind, "I'm not giving up on you."

[thedevillovesflowers]

Rdr2 oc “Buddy” 🤠🐎

(No this is not Konig)

[suddenmojo]

My RDR 2 (self-insert 🤠) oc, Artemis. she just like me fr (simps over Arthur Morgan)

I headcanon she’s a farm girl originally -> met Arthur, then turned outlaw -> post-Arthur then turned bounty Hunter (she’s still angsty ab it and catching criminals is her outlet)

Even as a farm girl she was apprehensive of strangers but one look at Arthur. yeah.

Would like to finish this someday but drawing cowboy hats literally takes 5 years off my lifespan 🤠 but I do it. For HIM.

[honeycombewe]

So I have fallen in love with this game and wanted to make a oc,,:>

Her name is Sumia Rose Cable. She lives in the town Strawberry, where she works at her family postal service. She’s around 20 years old, and still lives at home with her Aunt, Uncle and younger brother Alouis. 

She is a bit on the reckless side, but she’s a hoot to be around. She’s fun, chaotic, flirty, adventures, and could be very blunt.

More details on her soon! ;3

[spencerreidswhore187]

False Confidence

Don't take yourself so seriously / Look at you all dressed up for someone you never see.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: Spencer and Y/N hate each other, they just don't realise they have been anonymously messaging for months.

Word Count: 2.8k

T/W: Mentions of murder and death

A/N: For @sackofpissandshit . I came up for the premise of this as a plate of prawns fell onto my head at work. Enjoy! ◡̈

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

SherlockHolmes1887: You were right. 

You couldn’t help the smile that stretched across your face; you replied immediately, the half-drunk coffee in your hand forgotten. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Feel free to say that again.

He did.  

Briefly, you looked up from your phone to cross the road. You were on the way to work having just received a message from Hotch. It sounded urgent. 

NapoleonOfCrime: So what made you realise that, as per usual, I was right? 

You had spent the better part of the night trying to convince him that Sherlock Holmes was in love with Jim Moriarty. You had met him online several months ago, on an Arthur Conan Doyle forum and have been messaging ever since. 

He, except for the one and only Penelope Garcia, was your best friend. You told him everything. Except for who you are. 

Early on in talking you both had agreed not to exchange names, tell each other where you lived or what you did for a career. You knew what SherlockHolmes1887 favourite film was (Star Trek), that he liked wearing mismatched socks and his mum used to call him ‘Crash’ because he would crash into things when he was younger. You knew that, like you, he had four qualifications, liked Sherlock Holmes and had an unhealthy obsession with coffee. You just didn’t know his name. 

Your phone vibrated. 

SherlockHolmes1887: “The greatest schemer of all time, the organiser of every devilry, the controlling brain of the underworld, a brain which might have made or marred the destiny of nations—that's the man! But so aloof is he from general suspicion, so immune from criticism, so admirable in his management and self-effacement, that for those very words that you have uttered he could hale you to a court and emerge with your year's pension as a solatium for his wounded character. [...] Foulmouthed doctor and slandered professor—such would be your respective roles! That's genius, Watson.”

Your phone buzzed again. You silenced it as you walked into the BAU elevator. 

SherlockHolmes1887: I reread ‘The Valley of Fear’ last night. 

You were about to reply when a voice cried out. 

“Hold the door!” 

Instinctively, you stretched your arm out between the closing elevator doors. 

The person entered beside you. 

If you had known who had asked, you would have let the doors shut. 

Dr Spencer Reid leant on his cane, drumming his fingers against its metal top as the elevator moved upwards. He had recently been shot in the leg on a case. You would never tell him but when that gun fired, you thought you were going to be sick. Your heart ached. It made you hate him even more.

“Reid,” you said, staring forward. You refused to look at him.

“L/N,” He replied. 

That was the most words you’d exchanged in days. 

When the doors finally opened again, you both headed towards the round table, where the rest of the team was waiting. 

You and Spencer were the last to arrive. 

It’s not like him to be late, you thought.  

You took a seat between Emily Prentiss and Derek Morgan - you were sat as far away from Spencer as possible.

“Now that you are all here,” Hotch began, pulling you from your thoughts, “let’s begin.” 

Penelope connected her computer to the screen; there was a picture of a body. The flesh was rotten, decayed from what was evidently years hidden away. Your eyes are wide as you saw it: a long cut, rough and jagged, stretched from neck to naval. You recognised this signature. 

“The Brooklyn Butcher,” you said, interrupting the silence. 

Hotch nodded. 

It was a case that had occurred six years ago and ended up going cold. 

Spencer recalled, “Eleven women, all under the age of twenty-five, all with red hair, went missing and then their bodies always turned up three days later with a long knife wound across their torso.” 

“The only body,” you continued, “that was never discovered was Sharon Lewis’. The first to go missing. The wife of Mitch Lewis, the prime suspect during the investigation.” 

“Why wasn’t he arrested?” Derek asked. 

Spencer answered before you could, tucking a strand of his brown hair behind his ear. Why did you want to run your hands through his hair? 

“There was no evidence. The police’s only theory was his wife was his first kill and he killed all the other victims who resembled her in an attempt to relive the thrill of the kill.”

“He had an alibi for Sharon Lewis’ disappearance,” you added. 

“Correct - they also never found her body. They couldn’t prove their theory without her body.” 

“Well,” Hotch said, “they have now.” 

“Sharon Lewis, aged twenty-four, was the first victim in the Brooklyn Butcher killings. Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

JJ leant back in her chair and pressed her pen to her lips, “So the cut was postmortem?”

“According to the coroners.” 

“But that was not the case for the rest of the victims?”

“No,” Hotch replied. 

“Our UNSUB gained confidence in his kills.” 

Lewis was likely his first-ever kill. You wanted to message Sherlock and ask him what he thought. He was intelligent beyond belief, you were sure he would add valuable insight to this case but you couldn’t tell him. Then he would know you worked for the Behavioural Analysis Unit. You couldn’t let him know that. He couldn’t know who you were. What would he think then? When he knew you were more comfortable around dead bodies than real people.

“How was the body discovered?” Spencer asked. 

Hotch had that dark look in his eyes, the one he got when an UNSUB scared him. You hadn’t seen that look in his eyes since Haley died. 

“The body was left on an empty police vehicle parked outside a station in Brooklyn. There was a note attached to it.”

Penelope clicked a button on her laptop and the slide changed to a screwed-up piece of paper nailed to the shoulder of the body. 

Hotch read it aloud, “You have three days before I kill another. Happy hunting, the Butcher.”

He stood up from his seat, “Selene Harker was reported missing twelve hours ago. We leave for New York now - wheels up in twenty. Penelope, you’re coming with us.” 

She smiled nervously, you gave her a discreet thumbs up. 

Everyone stood up from the round table and headed towards the door, you had grabbed the handle when Hotch stopped you.

“L/N, you need to stay here.”

You froze, confused. 

He continued, “Reid has not been cleared to fly by his doctors yet and I need you to go through the old Mitch Lewis interrogation clips, find out whether he told any lies. Stay in touch.” 

With that he left the room, leaving you there with Spencer before you had a second to protest. 

You weren’t really sure how you did it, it’s an ability you’ve had since you were a kid. It’s how you were flagged by the FBI. You could tell when people lied. Everyone has a tell and, like the lie-detecter you are, you knew how to spot it. 

When you and Reid had first met, three years ago, he had told you all the statistics about lies: “Did you know,” he had said, “10% of all lies can be defined as exaggerations, though 60% of all lies are considered to be deceptive.” 

You remembered how you had nodded, anxious as it was your first day. 

“Of all liars, 70% of them claim to be willing to do it again. Every week, Americans tell 11 lies. In a study of 11,366 lies told by 632 people over 91 days, 75% of them lied between 0 or 2 times per day.”

“You know a lot,” You had laughed. 

Reid seemed kind. You liked kind people; you dealt with a lot of horrible people growing up. 

“I have an eidetic memory and an IQ of 187.” 

That was the first time you and Spencer had ever spoken and it was the last time you ever spoke like friends. 

You spun on your heels to face Spencer. 

“You leave me alone and I’ll leave you be. Understood?” 

“Understood,” Spencer said, rolling his eyes. 

“God, you are so infuriating.”

“I hate you,” he retorted. 

You noticed the way his jaw tensed. 

You grinned, “Lie.” 

Spencer groaned and left the room. Through the window, you saw him take a seat at his desk. 

Laughing, you walked into Penelope’s office and pulled up the police footage. 

You were three hours into the Mitch Lewis footage and he had told three lies. 

The first was that he did not know what happened to the other victims. Although, this could mean he had read about the case online. 

The second was more interesting. Lewis said he was at the pub when his wife disappeared. Even though there was security camera footage to confirm this, he was lying, 

The third made your head spin. He said he didn’t kill her. True. He said he didn’t know where she was. Lie. 

You paused the interrogation and contacted Hotch to tell him what you had found. He replied telling you to take a break as they searched for Mitch Lewis. 

In an attempt to distract yourself, you reached for your phone and messaged Sherlock. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Hi.

He replied almost immediately. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Hey.

NapoleonOfCrime: So you read ‘The Valley of Fear’ in one night just to try and prove me wrong? 

SherlockHolmes1887: If that’s how you want to interpret it :) 

NapoleonOfCrime: And?

SherlockHolmes1887: And…they are very much in love. It’s almost blindingly obvious. 

NapoleonOfCrime: “It has been an intellectual treat for me to see the manner in which you have grappled with this case.” The definition of enemies to lovers.

SherlockHolmes1887: Enemies to lovers? 

You don’t think you ever smiled as much as when you did with him. 

NapoleonOfCrime: It’s better you don’t ask, or else I’ll be sending you links to Moriaty x Sherlock fan fiction.

SherlockHolmes1887: What are you doing right now?

Your fingers danced along the tiny keyboard on the phone screen.

NapoleonOfCrime: Work. You? 

SherlockHolmes1887: Work. 

NapoleonOfCrime: How is it? 

It made you nervous that he didn’t reply instantly. 

NapoleonOfCrime: Don’t worry, this isn’t me trying to figure out what you do or who you are. I like the mystery. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Horrible. But it’s not really work that’s the problem. There’s a girl. 

It hurt a little to know there was a girl, of course it did, but you didn’t mind. What you cared about was how he seemed distressed. 

NapoleonOfCrime: If you want to share, I’m a good listener. 

He typed for what seemed like an eternity. 

SherlockHolmes1887: We, her and I, have worked together for years. She’s smart and funny and beautiful. So beautiful. But she hates me. I messed up when we first met, I was so nervous around her that I just ignored her. Whenever she tried to speak to me, I would walk away or just act like she wasn’t there. And, now, I am finally more confident, she can’t even be near me without glaring in my direction at least once. 

You yearned for someone to talk about you that way. No one had ever told you that you were beautiful. You didn’t need someone to tell you because you didn’t believe it, it’s just that sometimes, on the inevitable bad days, you want to feel wanted. 

NapoleonOfCrime: I’m sure if you explain it to her, she will understand - you said she’s smart. I can see why you like her. 

SherlockHolmes1887: Yeah, I fell hard. 

I fell hard. 

You recalled what Hotch had said, “Cause of death, blunt force trauma to the head.” 

You recalled how the cut was messy and hesitant whilst the rest were neat. 

 You recalled how it was done postmortem whilst the rest were the cause of death. 

You ran out of Penelope’s office, straight to Dr Spencer Reid. 

“Spence,” you shouted.

You were both alone in the room. 

Spencer looked up from his phone. It was strange, to see him on a phone. You had always thought he was the type of person to hate technology. Instead, he seemed thoroughly invested in whatever was on his screen. 

“Who are you messaging?” You asked, acting causal.

“No one,” he said.

Lie.

“A girl?”

“No.” 

Lie.

Spencer’s face had gone bright red. It was cute; it made you smile. 

Why did it make you smile? 

You decided to change the topic before your face went red. 

“Do you have the coroner’s report?” You questioned. 

He dug through the many files covering his desk and held it up for you to see. 

Blunt force to the frontal lobe, that confirmed your suspicions. 

You stared into Spencer’s brown eyes.

“I know what happened to Sharon Lewis.” 

You explained how it must have happened. Sharon was reported missing by her friend at 19:37. She was supposed to be meeting her a 18:00. Mitch Lewis was at a bar from 17:30-20:01, this was confirmed by camera footage. This means that Lewis can’t have kidnapped his wife. Or, perhaps, she never went missing. She tripped getting ready to see her friend and fell down the staircase. She would have died upon impact.

Spencer nodded in agreement with your theory.

“When Lewis got home and saw his wife’s body sprawled out at the base of the stairs, he saw an opportunity…” 

“He dragged her downstairs to the basement, explaining the deep scratches on her back noted in the coroner’s report.” You said, “Lewis worked in construction, he had a table and tools down there, he said so in one of his interrogations. He placed her on that table and cut her. He butchered her. And then did the same to others to try and recreate the high of killing his wife.” 

“We need to call Hotch.” 

Four hours later and Mitch Lewis had confessed and was in police custody.

Derek and Emily had found Selene Harker chained to the very same table Lewis had carved his wife like a cold slab of meat. 

The team was on their way back from Quantico.

You found Spencer sitting on a bench outside the FBI building. Spinning the silver ring your grandmother gave you around your index finger, you sat down next to him. 

You both stared forward, at the road. 

You were glad that you weren’t the only one who was affected by cases like this. You were glad that you weren’t the only one overwhelmed by empathy. Your mother once told you that empathy without boundaries was self-destruction but you were just glad that after so much time in this field, you still felt something. 

Spencer eventually broke the silence. 

“It scares me, Y/N, how easy a life can end.” 

Spencer clutched his cane so tightly that his knuckles went white. 

Gently, you eased one of his hands off it and held it in yours. 

You could hear your blood rushing in your ears. It was deafening. 

“You know, when I was a kid, I was always tripping over things. I walked into doors, tables, you name it. My mum would call me ‘Crash.’”

He laughed dryly whilst your world began to crumble around you. 

You dropped Spencer’s hand. 

“Sh-she called you what?” 

Spencer turned to look at you, confusion and worry were etched across his face, “Y/N? Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

It’s not that you were upset, in fact, you felt almost the opposite of that. 

Your voice was steadier than you expected when you spoke.

“He is the Napoleon of crime, Watson.”

“Y/N?”

“He is the organiser of half that is evil and of nearly all that is undetected in this great city.”

“It can’t be.” 

Spencer held his face in his hands. 

“Disappointed, Sherlock Holmes 1887?”

You said it mockingly but you were terrified of what Spencer would say. 

“No, Napoleon of Crime. Not even a little bit.”

True.

“You told me to explain how I felt to that girl so here goes. The first thing I noticed about you was your smile. I saw it from the other side of the room. And, Y/N, it was contagious. Just looking at you made me smile. You are so beautiful and so intelligent and I have wanted to tell you how desperately I liked you since the day we met.” 

He cradled your cheek with one hand. 

“And now I know that this whole time, as well as being the person I can see myself falling in love with, you are my best friend, my favourite, my person.” 

“I hate you, Spence,” you say just before you kiss him. 

Smiling against your lips, you hear him whisper, “Lie.” 

[pigfacedbitch]

HIIII I'm a big fan of your work and I really love it your writing is amazing , this may be a weird request and if your uncomfortable you don't have to do it , it's fine I completely understand, so it's like merlin and Arthur and the reader and they are all soulmates and it's there first time meeting each other . Thank you in advance

Modern! Reader Gets Transported to Albion

idea : modern world! reader gets transported to Albion and meets Arthur and Merlin. unbeknownst to you and the prince of Camelot, the three of you are soulmates.

type : imagines

word count : 0.7k

pairing/s involved : Arthur x Reader, Merlin x Reader

warning/s : almost drowning, panicking

here is my masterlist!

Note : MY FIRST REQUEST! Whoever you are, thank you for reading my works and I might've changed a little bit in your request. Also, I apologize that it took so long, school has been keeping me busy. I hope you like it! 😊

You've always been a fan of BBC Merlin so when you had the chance to take a trip to Europe, you did.

You went to all the locations where they filmed the series like Château de Pierrefonds and Chislehurst Caves. The last destination is where the Lake of Avalon is; Forest of Dean.

Luckily you are alone, giving you the chance to fully enjoy the beautiful sceneries and serene atmosphere.

It made you feel a deeper sense of nostalgia and melancholy— how the precious characters you loved dearly died and were 'buried' there.

With one last selfie, you were about to walk back to you car when you hear it. A faint voice, filled with sorrow and longing.

"(Y/N)... Save us."

It's coming from the lake.

Something glimmers on it's shore, a sapphire drop necklace with golden chain. When you attempt to pick it up, the world begins to spin.

Suddenly, you were underwater.

Panic builds in your chest not because you can't swim, but an unseen force seems to harshly pull you down no matter how hard you try to stay afloat.

"Help me! Please, someone—"

Air runs out from your lungs when a pair of bulky arms grabs your body and begins to swim you to safety.

"Don't worry, I got you."

I heard that voice before.

The stranger easily carries you to ground, draping a large cloak on your shivering body. Rubbing your eyes for better sight, you look up...

Bradley James?

"Are you alright?"

No. You're certain that Bradley doesn't look that young anymore, keeping up with his latest activities online.

"I told you to be careful, Arthur!"

Turning your head, you see Colin Morgan run towards the two of you with a worried expression on his face.

He looks younger too.

"Ah, Merlin. Fetch the horses, she might need medical attention. May I ask for you name, my lady?"

Arthur? Merlin? Wait... Oh my God.

Realization hits you hard when both men stare at you expectantly, waiting for your answer.

The way they speak, their clothes, their appearances... it's exactly the same in the show you binge-watch every Christmas season.

Am I in the show? That's not possible...right?

"W-Where are we?"

"Camelot."

Shit.

You expect someone to go 'You just got punked!'; that would've been better than two men (who you have a huge crush on) staring at you, confused.

You waited for a moment but nothing happens.

This is real. I'm actually in Albion.

Fear and anxiety creeps into your system, as many questions form in your head. Did I die? What's going on? What season is this? How can I ever get back?

Due to the overwhelming emotions, your breath shortens and keeled over.

Bradley, or Arthur (You have no idea anymore), quickly catches you and gently carries you to his horse.

"We must make haste!" was the last thing you heard before you blacked out.

Merlin, on the hand, knew this would happen. In fact, he dreams of you.

He sees you in vague images, like old memories— happily kissing his cheek, witnessing him use magic, encouraging him to do another trick, etc.

He already etched in his mind your pretty face, your melodious voice, your playful grin— everything about you.

Then Arthur shares the same experience, dreaming about a woman who's description mirrors yours.

Kilgharrah told him that the woman of their dreams will arrive soon from faraway land and will play significant role in the prophecy.

However, the dragon didn't specify how. He only said—

"(Y/N) is your soulmate, Emrys. She sees you and Arthur in a light no one else ever will."

Soulmates are uncommon, even for druids. Only a few were blessed, to have something so wholesome and pure.

So when he heard your cry for help, he is ecstatic. You have finally arrived. His soulmate... and Arthur's.

He wryly smiles at this. Funny how he shares, not only his destiny with the prat, but also you.

The trip to the castle was faster than they anticipated. Arthur told him to call Gaius and meet them in his bedroom.

It caught the attention of everyone. The prince carrying an unconscious woman in his private chambers will surely stir gossip.

But Arthur didn't care, and Merlin didn't know if he should be proud or worried.

The court physician said you are healthy, they only have to wait for you to wake up. He left to attend other matters; leaving the three of you alone.

"This is her." The prince laughs in disbelief, incognizant of what Merlin knows. "The girl in my dreams, I can't believe it!"

Merlin tries to hide his smirk, Arthur can be so adorable when he's clueless.

"Nor can I, sire."

[sofasoap]

Little hobby

Pairing: Johnny “Soap” MacTavish x F!Reader

Summary: Your secret hobby and past time discovered by your boyfriend.

Warning : M themed. Suggestive. hint of smut. Not beta'ed. A/N: I am sure 99% of us who writes fanfics has this experience.. of hiding our thirst from RL friends and families...

Part 2 of Little Bear series Masterlist

“He kissed her… mmm no that doesn't flow..The lust in his eyes….. Yep. That will work.”

“What ya doing there little bear?" 

You let out a mighty scream as you jumped and threw your laptop on the seat beside you.  You've been typing away and burning your brain cells for the last few hours, eyes sticking up to the computer screen and scrunching up your nose, so deep in concentration you didn’t even notice your boyfriend had come back in from his night out with the boys.

"JOHNNY!!! Oh my heavens, I was about to have a heart attack!!" puffing and pouting as you scramble to pick up the laptop and quickly slam the lid close. 

"Sorry bonnie, I called you a few times but your nose was sticking right against the screen typing away.. you writing a novel?? Can I have a read?" Soap asked as he bent over from the back of the couch, giving you a kiss on the head as he apologised. 

"Uh…"

Soap looked at you with a big smile, waiting for you to give him a reply. 

How do you tell your dearest boyfriend, that secret little self indulgent hobby that none of your real life acquaintances knows.

Writing fan fictions.

SMUTTY fan fictions to be precise. 

There’s no secrets between us. That’s one thing both you and Johnny agree on at the start of the relationship. With him away for work so often, both of you know communication is the key. Open with each other. 

Oh what the hell. He’s going to find out someday. Somehow. Your usual mutual friend who you use as beta reader is offline and away for family holiday, and you really want to get your latest chapter posted in the next few hours.

“Please? I promise you I won’t laugh.” How can you say no to those beautiful baby blue eyes, staring at you innocently.

“You promise?” You asked in a shy voice. “And please don’t judge me.” ‘I promise my little teddy bear. Now come on. Tell me what you are writing about?”

Passing the laptop over to him nervously, “Iamwritingasmuttyfanfictionaboutarthurmorgan.”you vomited out the words so fast, you were surprised Soap actually caught most of the words.

“Arthur Morgan? The character from red dead redemption two? What’s a smut anyway?” Soap remembered it from one of the game nights when the team gathered at their place, while Soap, Ghost and Price were playing cards, you sat there with Gaz, who was a huge fan of the series, playing the game while you watched on from the side, and occasionally finding guides online for him when he was stuck at certain point of the game. He didn’t expect you to take on such an interest in the character. 

Nodding your head,“It’s um, part of a series I am writing about, um…. I have been trying to get this chapter done for the last few hours,“ Waving your hand towards the laptop, “Just.. Just read it. And um, give me some constructive criticisms and see if you can spot any grammatical mistakes…” 

Sitting back, you wrangle both hands nervously as he opens up the laptop, eyes darting left to right, occasionally clicking on the touchpad, typing away to correct things in or raising eyebrows, tilting his head and nodding his head with approval. 

After what seems like the longest five minutes of your life, he finally closes the lid of the laptop and sets it aside.

“Well.” 

“Well?” scooting closer to him, you urge him to say more.

“Pretty good, didn’t know you had such vivid imaginations there. So tell me,” he leans closer, with a smirk on his face, “those sexy scenes you wrote… keen to try them out?” 

Oh. OHH. HoHOho.....

This took an unexpected, but not unwelcoming turn. You didn't end up posting that chapter until two days later. With additional smut scenes added. Inspiration from real life was indeed helpful.

“Good morning Bonnie bear, keen to go for another ride on the cowboy?” 

loosely based on my own experience ( minus the smut writing part ) when husband was asking me why I been typing and gluing my eyes on the computer after work for days. and "IAMWRITINGCALLOFDUTYFANFICITION" was all he got out of me.

@a-small-writer-in-a-big-world

@kaplerrr

@homicidal-slvt

@floral-force

[jokeringcutio]

WE NEED MORE ALBERT SHAW X FEM READER FICS ‼️ ethan hawke just hits diff

YES! See my Grabber x Reader fic Masterlist below this text (: I have attributed a few to the fandom by popular demand. And there's a Reader having her Period Request Fill coming up right after Halloween. So keep an eye on my Tumblr if this takes your fancy. There are more prompts pending. I also write for other Ethan characters. I have quite a few fills for Moon Knight's Arthur Harrow, and my very first Ernst Toller fill for the Halloween prompts is online. Send me more, I would love it.

MASTERLIST BLACK PHONE

The Black Phone (2022) Albert Shaw / The Grabber: Stories: *~* The Chance to make a Change (Grabber x Reader) When you end up in front of the Grabber’s house, you decide to take matters into your own hands and stop Albert Shaw from kidnapping and murdering these innocent boys like he does in the movie. You have good intentions. But will you succeed? (Rating Explicit, Lots of warnings and tags such as odler man/younger woman, age difference, size difference, rape/noncon, violence, dead dove: do not eat, kidnapping, stockholm syndrome, daddy kink, major character death, etc) *~* The Gift (Grabber x Reader) Your curiosity got the better of you (Mature, though not overtly explicit, kidnapping, older man/younger woman). *~* A Gift for his Gift - Albert Shaw / The Grabber x Reader Insert [ WARNINGS ] (Explicit, Dub/noncon elements/can be seen as a continuation of ‘the gift’). *~* TEARS - Albert Shaw/The Grabber x Kidnapped!Reader (Explicit, lots of warnings, Dacryphilia, Daddy Kink, Non-con elements). Reader hasn't succumbed to Stockholm Syndrome yet. *~* HALLOWEEN DECORATION – SWEET GRABBER X READER VERSION (Explicit) Reader is Albert's coworker. *~* TRICK OR TREAT – SWEET GRABBER X READER VERSION (Teen, No Warnings except perhaps dark undertones? But overall quite innocent). Reader rings Albert's doorbell to trick-or-treat.

Drabble: *~* Grabber Finds a Plushie, Yellow Bunny in your backpack, NC-17 due to themes. *~* A warm spring day in the garden with your family (implied kidnapping) * ~* You’re kidnapped and have insomnia (Smut), Explicit, Non-con warning. *~* You’re kidnapped and have amnesia [ Part 1 ], Mature. [ Part 2 ] *~* You’re his new neighbor and meet him when Samson enters your garden. Sweet, light drabble, bit of flirting, Rating: Teen. *~* The Grabber returns for you after you escaped him. Modern AU. Mature. Imagine: *~* Albert Shaw x (Teacher afab) Reader - Search Party

Crossovers: Black Phone & Joker

Drabbles:

The Magician - Reader and Arthur go to see a show, but the Magician is getting a bit too friendly. Rating: PG13, no real warnings except jealousy and possessive men.  Bumping into Albert on way to date with Arthur, Rating: Teen.

[yanderepuck]

puck do you think its possible to convince arthur to write Sherlock/Watson; what would that convincing look like?

asking for a friend

You mean..like... Sherlock x Watson

I feel like that would take a LOT of convincing. HOWEVER. I feel like rather than bribing him you can show him AO3 and all the fanfics of Sherlock x Watson .

He would be VERY disgusted at first. But then you force him to read a few (probably with the help of Dazai) and Arthur gets even more upset

"SHERLOCK WOULDN'T SAY THAT!"

He thinks everything is SOOO out of character. And the more he reads/you read to him the more upset he gets. He thinks it is all very out of character, pointing out flaws and everything. It even gets to the point where he is correcting all the grammar, because he's also horrified at the style of writing.

Punctuation and commas are all in the wrong spot. What the hell are those three dots for. Not enough description. Not being described right. Tenses are not consistent.

So you know what he does? He wrote it himself.

"if Sherlock and Watson were to be a couple THIS is how it would be" and he basically writes a whole other book. It's a whole ass novel. Of Sherlock and Watson being gay. Doing detective work together, and making little snide comments to each other but in a loving way. And also being sure to point out that they have to keep the relationship secret. It's the 1890s they can't be like this out in public.

He refuses to write it as a modern au. And he's also done with it in like a week. And he presents the manuscript at the writers meeting. Dazai is like "WAIT I NEED TO GO GET TOSHIKO-SAN"

Will is very confused. Arthur is proud of his work. Turns out he had writers block for MONTHS prior to this, and he churned this out in literally a week because all the fangirls online pissed him off.

You see the manuscript and are immediately like "yep. This is going on Wattpad IMMEDIATELY"

Well I really hope that's what you meant bc I put quite a bit of thought into it. More than I anticipated

[startrekfangirl2233-writes]

There's Nothing I Wouldn't Do

Mickey 'Fanboy' Garcia x Nadia Garcia (OC)

A/N: I wrote this to go along with a series being written by mayhemmanaged and cassmitchell called Gunpowder & Lead! Update as of 01/31/2024: This story is no longer connected to anything being written by the two accounts mentioned above. They are reworking this story. This is MY HARD WORK AND EFFORT and I will not be deleting it just because this character is no longer included in their story.

The character of Attie Blake is @dakotakazansky's. Fern belongs to @desert-fern. Obviously all of the Daggers are the property of Paramount. The only characters who are mine are Nadia 'Nova' Garcia and Alex.

Disclaimers:Female!Reader, and all the warnings below!

Warnings: Abuse, Recovery from Abuse, Assault

As a reminder, everyone’s experiences are different. Everyone’s experiences are valid. This is a fictional story.

My Masterlist

It’s just past noon on a sleepy Wednesday in Austin, Texas. The afternoon sun beats hot against my face. I grab onto the hood shrouding my features and tug it up a bit higher to make sure nobody can see me. You see, I’m not supposed to be here. The only reason why I am is the baby boy in the carrier strapped to my front. Alex. My son and the only good thing I have in my life. 

So why am I standing in front of a tiny flower shop named Hera's Orchard in one of Austin’s winding streets of small businesses with my baby in my arms and everything important to me in a bag at my side? There's a rumor, a rumor floating around on the dark web talking about this place. Rumor says that if you walk in and ask if they have any asphodel in the back, they'll help you, no questions asked.

I inhale deeply, trying to breathe despite my bruised, aching ribs and broken nose. I have to do this. For Alex, there's nothing I wouldn't do. I can take any and everything Arthur, my husband, lays on me. But the minute he turned his hand on our son, I'd had enough. The bruised ribs and broken nose, they're what I'd gotten for standing in his way. They're also the final straw. The tiny bell above the door jingles and as I walk in, the humid air stinks of soil and the heady perfume of the thousands of blooming flowers lining the walls. I feel a little bit like I've walked into a jungle. But automatically, instantly, it feels a bit easier to breathe.

Alex seems to like being in Hera's Orchard too, his chubby little hands grasping for the bright colors he can see even as his big eyes go wide at the onslaught of new sensations. I cuddle him closer, kissing his downy head before boldly forging my way to the counter I can see in the back.

There's a sign on the petal strewn countertop, proclaiming, "Ring the Bell for Service! Someone will be out shortly!" Right beside the sign is a bronze bell, like the kind they have on hotel concierge counters. I press it just once, and then have to drag a few petals from Alex's little fingers. If I hadn't caught them, they would've gone right into his mouth.

"Buddy. Alex! No, honey. Those do not go in your mouth." My son is ever vocal, babbling very seriously back at me. I'm having an oh, so serious conversation with my baby when an amused mock cough catches my attention. While I was conversing with Alex, someone walked out from the back and came to stand behind the counter. 

She's beautiful, her shoulder length brown hair is tied up into a knot at the back of her head and green eyes bore right through me. She's small and slight, but when she folds her arms across her chest, the muscles bulge with hidden strength.

"Hi, welcome to Hera's Orchard. I'm Fern, how can I help you today?" I can't hide my nerves as I slide the hood off, finally revealing my face to Fern. Her piercing eyes soften, seeing the bruises rising up vividly across my face.

"Hi, Fern. I'm Nadia," I make Alex wave with his little hand, "and this little guy is Alex. I read online that you just got a shipment of some rare asphodels into the store? I was hoping to purchase one as a gift." My throat is dry as I catalog the expression on her face. Fern's serious and stern. The sweet, slightly goofy grin she'd leveled at Alex just moments before is gone.

"Come with me." I grab my bag and follow her into the back. "Hey Charlie! Can you take over in the front? I've got a consult on a custom flower arrangement here!"

Charlie, a teenage boy, thin and gangly with the wildest curls I’ve ever seen, levels Fern with a lovestruck expression before walking out to man the counter. I know what he's so struck by. Have you ever been in a room with someone and been captivated by them? That's Fern's energy, from head to toe. I follow her into a small, plant covered office. Just as we sit down, Alex begins whimpering and gumming at my fingers.

"Sorry, he's hungry. D'you mind if I nurse him while we chat?" I can't believe I'm asking a stranger this question. Arthur would cut me down on the spot if he knew. Per his rules, babies are to be bottle fed only when other people are present.

"Of course. Feed the little guy. Take your time. I take my custom arrangement consultations very seriously." Her smile is soft as I situate Alex at my breast, heaving in as deep a breath as I am able as he begins to nurse hungrily. 

"Now that he's eating, do you want to tell me a little bit about the person you'd like to gift this special arrangement to?" Fern's got a little sketchpad in front of her and she begins to sketch bloom after bright bloom as I explain what I'm looking for.

"So, you're looking for an arrangement that is subtle and beautiful to gift your husband?" There's something dangerous in Fern's eyes as she uses a knife to cut the sketch free and hand it to me.

"Yes.” I trace over the thin wispy lines of the sketch, before murmuring, “This is beautiful. How soon can you have it ready?" 

I can't believe I'm doing this. Can I poison my husband? That’s the catch about Hera’s Orchard. It is a flower shop, one that has rave reviews and an ever growing list of clientele, but it’s true clientele is a bit shadier than housewives who want a fresh bouquet for their dinner table. ‘Asphodel’ is the key word in those situations. 

"Come with me." Rather than answer my question, she leads me to a small doorway in the back of the shop. She unlocks it with a key and grabs my bag. With Alex in my arms, I walk through the door, pausing only so Fern can latch the door behind us. Fern stops at the end of the passageway, knocking on the door. A small window opens, looking us over before the door opens and we're let through. 

"This, Nadia, is the Underworld. This is Persephone and Songbird. They run this place and are my closest friends." The women I see arrayed before me are beautiful and strong. Are they the salvation I've been looking for? Can they save Alex, and by extension me, from more suffering?

"Hey, Bruiser!" It's Persephone, her tone musical even as she wiggles her fingers at Alex. "What's up, Buttercup?"

"Seriously, Seph?" Fern's disgust at the nickname is palpable but I can tell it's a play at disgust more than the real deal. "This is Nadia Wilson. She walked into the Orchard looking for an asphodel."

Those seem to be the magic words. Before I can blink, I'm pulled to a table with Fern on my right and both of the other women in the room seated before me.

"I'm Persephone," Her voice is soft as she looks at me with Alex snoozing in his baby bjorn after his lunch. "Bruiser mentioned that you needed some help?"

At my confused look, she's quick to assure me, "Hey, you can talk openly here. We've got the entire Underworld locked down. Nothing leaves this room. I can assure you of that fact. We got the best hacker we know to build our anti surveillance gear."

As much as that intrigues me, if only because I just built an anti-surveillance setup myself,  I desperately need their help more. So I let the whole tale spill. How I emigrated to Texas as a young girl and taught myself how to code. How I'd fallen in love with the green beauty of the city and the hills surrounding it. But sadly that wasn’t all I’d fallen in love with. Arthur Wilson had swept me off of my feet. He seemed like a gorgeous man who had money and seemed to adore everything about me. So I hadn't hesitated when he asked me to marry him.

"Alex," you explain to the women, "is the only reason why I’ve stayed in my marriage for as long as I have." 

My breathing is ragged as I stare at the wall behind their heads. "Arthur, my husband, has hated Alex since before he was born. My husband hated how my body changed with the baby. He hates how I'm not back to my pre-baby weight or body type yet. So he takes it out on me." 

"At first it was just with his words. A probing comment here, a harsh word there. Then he started hitting me. I worked so damn hard to lose weight, to go back to what I looked like before, and it still wasn't enough. He's been hitting me more and more frequently."

"Then to top it all off, there is something else too. He's been cheating on me, I know he has. I've found red hairs on his clothes and he stinks of a perfume that's not what he buys me and insists I wear. But I could stand all of that. Last night, he tried to hit Alex. He's only three months old!" Your voice breaks and a tear slips down your cheek as you sob the words out. "He's just a baby, after all. Babies cry!"

"I can't let him hurt my baby. I can't live like this. Not anymore. Please help me. Please." My broken tones echo in the room around me as I make pleading eye contact with Persephone and Songbird in turn.

"Of course we'll help you, sweetheart! We're the Furies. It's what we do." I can't help my sobs as I let myself fall apart at their words.

3 weeks later

I wasn’t sure what to expect as the outcome from that first meeting at the Underworld, not at all. But whatever it was, it definitely wasn’t this. It’s 3 AM and red and blue lights blanket the front lawn of the suburban home I shared with my husband up until a few hours ago. That’s when I’d come downstairs with Alex in my arms and found Arthur and his newest side-piece, the red-head whose hairs I’d noticed on his suits, dead on the lounge chair in his study in various stages of undress. Like any dutiful wife, I’d screamed until our housekeeper found me and stayed by her side until the police arrived.

My pain and fear are all too real. Since I met with Persephone, Songbird, and Bruiser, it seems like Arthur turned all of his attention on me. I’ve been under a microscope ever since. He’s added a potentially broken wrist, two black eyes and a twisted ankle to the broken nose and bruised ribs I had the day I’d left Hera’s Orchard with a gorgeous flower arrangement under my arm. So the tears I cry as I clutch Alex to my chest in front of the sweetest Police Sergeant I’ve ever met are real. His face has been continually distressed since he first found me and I can’t believe how good he makes me feel.

“Sergeant Mickey Garcia,” he’d said, smiling at me as I tried to settle Alex from when the baby had been startled awake at the sirens of what seemed like the entirety of the Austin Police Department spilled onto our front lawn. “Pleased to meet you, ma’am.”

I’d stammered back my own greetings and let him lead me into the kitchen.

“C-can you tell me what happened?” He’d blushed crimson when I tried nursing Alex to get him to settle down. His face had only grown more and more serious the more I spoke. I found myself spilling the entire tale to him, captivated by the curls spilling over his forehead. 

“Sergeant Garcia,” his superior, a man with arresting green eyes and dark blonde hair calls Mickey over to him. All night I’ve been getting appraising looks from the men of APD. Either I look like shit with a squalling baby in my arms or they’re trying to figure out if I have the courage to turn black widow on one of the Police Department’s biggest donors. I do, but they won’t ever know. I look like a beaten down, broken woman, but I’m far from it. I’m a professional woman. I build custom computers and security protocols for corporations around the world. It’s my true passion and calling, one which Arthur had never cared to know about.

As Mickey briefs his superiors, the looks I get go from being evaluating to pitying. I know I look a sight, bruises turning blue and green on my tan skin and with bags so dark under my eyes they’re purple. Add to that my pajamas, bedhead, and a squalling baby and I’ve successfully slipped under APD’s radar. They’re sure to have pulled the security footage, the footage my paranoid husband always had recording, by now, the footage which shows me asleep in my bed or sleep-walking to Alex’s room when my collicky baby wakes me up in the middle of the night. Alex is a sleeping weight against my chest before Sergeant Garcia walks back to me.

“We’re going to get you into an ambulance Mrs.Wilson and get you and Alex to the hospital and check out. If you’d like, we can call someone to come stay with you while you’re there and who can take care of Alex while we wait?” His voice sounds like sex and smoke. Were I not so recently a widow and not so injured to boot, I would have jumped him on the spot.

“Yes, I have someone I can call. I’d like to change and grab a bag for Alex if I can first though?” At his nod, I limp my way upstairs, putting together a bag for Alex before handing the Sergeant both the bag and Alex at his insistence. Arthur never once held Alex like that. When I step out of the bedroom in a pair of jeans and t-shirt, Alex is happily drooling against Sergeant Garcia’s chest and he looks too comfortable for this to be the first time he’s holding a baby.

“Wow.” My voice is quiet. “This is not the first time you’ve held a baby, is it Sergeant?”

His chuckle is bashful and shy. “No, actually. My sister in Miami has three kids. I’ve held them all.”

“D’you have any babies of your own, Sergeant?” I don’t know why I’m asking that question, not now of all times.

“No, I don’t. But I’ve always wanted to.” He clears his throat before helping you into the ambulance and handing Alex to you. “Now let’s get you in touch with who you wanted to call. Who’d you like to call?”

My voice is all fire as I say, “Attie Blake. She’s a friend and my lawyer.”

4 months later

Arthur’s sister and mother had put up a perfunctory fuss when they found out he was dead, accusing me of murdering him and any other depraved things that came to his mind. They even tried to sue me. But even their high paid team of lawyers couldn’t stand up to Atlas Blake. With Attie’s help, I managed to win the case and secure all of Arthur Wilson’s fortune into a trust fund for his son. Mickey’s been by my side ever since as well. It was almost too easy to fall in love with him. Especially when I saw how easy it was for him to accept Alex as a part of the package deal. Mickey helped me scope out the location so I could buy the small shop near Hera’s Orchard which I made into a net-cafe and officially introduced me to Birdie Floyd and Emory Seresin, who I only knew so far as Songbird and Persephone.

Since then, my life has never been better. The Furies are the closest friends I have, and the shop, named Daedalus’ Automata, is the perfect place for me to do my thing. What’s my thing, you ask? Before my marriage, before Arthur demanded a trophy wife, I was in cyber security. Give me any network and a computer and I could tell you how secure the network is and at least four ways that I could make it better. I also make custom computers and anti-surveillance hardware. It’s how I continued making money under Arthur’s nose. Now, it’s how I’ve been paying back the Furies for helping me. I keep any mentions of the Furies out of the internet and away from the Task Force’s attention. The best part is how Mickey doesn’t care when I come home smelling like grease with Alex in my arms. How I wish I’d met Miguel Garcia first. 

It’s late when I stagger through the front door late on a Friday night. It’s date night and I’m so late that I’m sure any excuses I have will be flimsy at best. Mickey had grabbed Alex from Daedalus when he got off of his shift, so I don’t have the baby with me when I walk through the door. The entire house is filled with the most delicious scent, and as I look at my watch, I know I’m at least an hour late for dinner.

“Mickey?” My voice is soft as I toe my shoes off and walk through the house. “I’m sorry I’m late, vida. I had this absolute wreck of a computer get dropped off for repairs.” In part that’s true, I did have a wreck of a computer dropped off for repairs. But that’s not why I’m late. The Furies were running an op tonight, one for which I was on comms, making sure my girls were safe as they were running around doing what they do best. I walk through the kitchen, my heart dropping at the sight of the candles on the dining table, the wax nearly melted away.

“Mickey?” My voice drops to a whisper when I walk into the study and see all of my computer screens fired up, filling the entire room with their cool blue light. On the screen flash three dossiers, my own, Fern’s and Ranger’s in addition to the blueprints for the facility we hit tonight. It was a strict information gathering op, but so important. How could I have been so stupid that I hadn’t locked that information down before I left this morning?

“I think you’ve got some explaining to do, amor.” I’ve never heard Mickey sound so serious. “I love you, and I promise I’m not angry, just worried. Tell me what’s going on.”

I can’t resist melting into his embrace, inhaling the musky warm scent of his cologne as he squeezes me tight.

“I love you, Miguel. I just need to have you sign something first. Then I promise I’ll tell you everything.” Then I reach for my phone and speed dial Attie. 

“Hey Attie, I’m going to need an NDA here.” I can’t help looking at Mickey over the next half an hour we wait in the kitchen. I’m puttering around nervously, barely able to stomach the stew Mickey made while I finished up at the shop. Mickey’s not much better. He eats too, but he keeps stealing these searching glances of me, and the tension enveloping our small kitchen is nearly too much to bear. He tries to speak a few times but each time, stops short. I can’t help wondering what this means for us, for Alex who already has heard us both refer to Mickey as dad or daddy.

It’s the doorbell ringing which startles me out of the pensive way I’ve been glancing into Mickey’s eyes. It’s Attie at the door with Bradley right behind her.

“Hey Nova.” She’s smiling, which should provide me with a sense of relief. But I can’t help the dread pooling in my gut or the bad portents which my mind is constantly bombarding me with.

“Hey, Attie. C’mon in.” I hug her for a few minutes before leading her and her six-foot shadow into our kitchen.

“Hey, Roos.” Mickey sounds exhausted and I can’t believe it’s because of me. “So you’ve been read into what the girls are doing too?”

It breaks your heart when he folds into one of the chairs at the kitchen table and runs his fingers through his curls. 

“How bad is it, Bradshaw?” At Bradley’s lack of response, I can see Mickey’s jaw tighten and worry cloud his features even more.

“It’s alright, Mickey.” It’s Attie who takes control of the situation. “Read over this, sign it, and then Nova and I will tell you what’s going on.”

Mickey gives the document a cursory look over, scrawling his signature where required before pushing it to Attie and leveling me with one of his intense panty dropping looks. It’s with my heart in my throat that I let the whole tale of my introduction and involvement in the Furies spill. Anger glints in his eyes as I finish. 

“I need a drink. Whiskey, Roos?” He can’t even look at me. I understand needing a bit to process, but Mickey’s never processed like this before. Please let him understand. Please let this not be the end. I share a scared look with Attie before standing to grab a tumblr for her, too. I don’t drink, not a drop, and while I’ve never minded Mickey or our friends drinking, tonight the sight of the alcohol slipping down his throat just fills me with dread. Maybe it’s residual PTSD from Arthur, who’d beat me if he got too drunk, but it’s just as likely to be the tense situation I’ve found myself in. 

“So where do we go from here?” Mickey’s looking right at me as he says the words. “I know you know this, amor, but I’m on the task force hell bent on finding Persephone and the Furies. To stop them. How can I protect my family? The woman I love, the woman I wanted to ask to marry me tonight, when she’s on the other side of the work I’ve devoted my life to?”

My smile is tremulous as I launch myself into his arms. Relief floods my veins, maybe this isn’t the end!

“You wanted me to marry you, Miguel?” I can’t hide my sobs as I bury myself into his skin. His arms are strong and secure as they automatically wrap around me.

“Course, amor. I’ve wanted to ask you to marry me since the day I met you.” I can’t help the clumsy, salty, kiss I press to his lips. “I’ve wanted you and Alex from first sight. This doesn’t change anything, not between you and me. It’s going to change everything at work, though.”

I get lost kissing Mickey for several more long moments, until the baby monitor on the counter chirps, spilling Alex’s cries into the room.

“I’ll get him,” I murmur in Mickey’s ear. “Attie will join me. Talk to Bradley, vida. He knows, so does Bob.”

Attie’s a silent shadow behind me as we walk into the nursery and I change the baby’s diaper.

“It’s going to be okay, Nov. The entirety of Mickey’s loyalty is with you and this little guy. They’ll figure out a way to keep us safe. And we’ll do our part to keep them safe too.”

Mickey looks relieved when I walk downstairs once Alex is back to sleep. It’s looking at his face and the home that we’ve made together that I make a vow I’ll keep if it’s the last thing I do. I’ll protect my fiancé, protect his friends and protect our son. If someone finds out about the Furies, it won’t be because of me. Nobody I love will ever get hurt again, not if I can stop them. 

It’s that righteous vision that fills my veins when Mickey and I get married in a small courthouse ceremony a few weeks later surrounded by our friends. It’s a hurried engagement, but necessary, especially since spousal immunity can only help when in our situation. He adopts Alex too. Attie checked, Mickey adopting Alex does not void the Wilson trust fund. Things seem to smooth between Mickey and I. Our two week honeymoon in Miami is the most fun I’ve ever had in my life. Not to mention, the most time I’ve spent naked in one stretch. Mickey didn’t let me out of bed for the first 48 hours we were there. 

When we get back, life sinks into its own balanced pace. My new normal, punctuated by the gorgeous solitaire diamond on my left ring finger, is full of promise. But as things pick up and I start hearing more and more about a new king-pin taking over Austin, the more I worry about what’s to come. But I’m able to put my worries aside for the most part, staying vigilant. I do what I can to help the cause, sending the young boys and girls who need help to Cora’s Bakery down the street for pomegranate scones. After all, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and that’s all of us. It’s why we do what we do.

I DO NOT CONSENT TO HAVE MY WORK POSTED, TRANSLATED, OR PUBLISHED ON ANY SITES OTHER THAN HERE OR ON AO3 BY ME. IF YOU SEE MY WORKS ANYWHERE OTHER THAN HERE OR AO3, THEN THEY HAVE BEEN POSTED WITHOUT MY PERMISSION AND I WILL BE WORKING TO TAKE THEM DOWN.

Taglist:

@dakotakazansky @cherrycola27 @thedroneranger @desert-fern @sarahsmi13s @hisredheadedgoddess28 @roosters-girl @roostette @bobby-r2d2-floyd @footprintsinthesxnd @genius2050 @angelbabyange @djs8891

[nataliabdraws]

not if it’s you

[holyfvckbats]

Hey Angel, here! I'm a 21+ female (PST) who is also a 10 year experienced roleplayer/writer who loves to take her mind on a trip from the outside world. I use music to help me set a scene for the majority of my writing. I use discord, write only in third person, and I always try to mirror write but it always turns out being a little more especially when I'm excited.

I'm currently obsessed with trying to find writing partners that fit the vibe. Not only do I want writing partners, I would love to make new friends. If I'm not writing then I'm working. If I'm not working then I'm playing video games, listening to music, probably high off weed or I'm sleeping. Regardless I'd love to meet new people.

Here are some topics that peak my interest:

• Stranger Things - Eddie Munson, Steve Harrington, Billy Hargove, or Argyle x OC.

• Euphoria - I just like how the colors play a big part in the show. I don't necessarily want to be any of the characters but I wouldn't mind doing a spin off of it.

• The Bear - Carmey. Do I need to say more? I don't care if I make an OC and someone writes him for me or I write against your OC but hot damn.

• Red Dead Redemption 2 Online- I play this game a lot on Xbox. Ever want a partner let me know. I'm honorable. Also I love Arthur Morgan and would love to write Sadie against him. Always thought they would make a good couple since that one little mission in Rhodes.

• GTA 5 - I don't play the online version as much anymore but I'm more interested in Trevor and a personal OC character against him.

• Stardew Valley - I love this game. I love the little stories and how you can fall in love with certain characters. I always want my character to marry Penny for the story and Emily for the clothes.

• fandomless roleplay is okay too, I mean like I said I want friends/writing partner. Maybe you think we'd hit it off then why not conjure something together.

I guess I should say one last thing before I close this off. My main face claim is Demi Lovato. I am a fan of hers but even if I were to do a celebrity RP, I would never impersonate/pretend to be the real her. Also if you want to write, I can double, and play male or female characters. Minors DNI as always. Also mxm is not for me, sorry but I'm totally fine doing mxf, fxm, or fxf.

If I by chance have managed to catch your attention please like this and coment. If I disappointed you could you do me a favor and repost it or share it with someone you think would peak the same interest. As always, thank you for your time in reading everything and may you have a wonderful New Years. ✨

[azures-bazar]

Tutorial - Pose and Animations for greater pictures

Hello everyone and welcome to another tutorial !

Today, I’ll explain you a few basic tricks for you to create some good screenshots by using Rampagne Trainer’s Scenario and Animation sections as well as Object Spawner ! I kinda taught myself to use them, allow me to share the little I know with you !

For this tutorial, allow me to create a very sweet scenario : some Kierthur (don’t blame me, I ship Kieran with both Arthur and my OC lmao).

Our boys are having some good time somewhere near Strawberry ! ❤️ - Final results (no Photoshop) by the end of the tutorial

Prequisites

Rampage Trainer by RampageDev

ScripthookRDR2 by Alexander Blade

Red Dead Redemption 2 Animation List by fegma

Installation

Just like a said in the Your Own Character in Story Mode Tutorial, place your unzipped Rampage folder in the game root file :

ex: C:/Azuresbazar/Programs/Rockstar Games/Red Dead Redemption 2

I recommend you to create a mod folder on your desktop, giving you a possibility to check which mods you have and how to delete them if you want, for example, to play Read Dead Online (you can be banned if you use mods on RDO).

Location Selection

The very first obvious task you will give yourself will be to select a desired location for your screenshots. If you're planning to add some objects on the ground, my advice is to select an area where there little to no grass at all.

STEP 1 - Create your setup by using Object Spawner

First of, I recommend you to stop in-game time. Open Rampage Trainer by using the keyboard key and select World, then select Time. Click on Stop Time, so you won't have to build your setup by night. You may also check the Weather section, you will be able to choose your favourite weather type. For the setup, however, I recommend you to keep a rather "sunny" weather.

In order to create your setup, head back to the main menu and click on Spawner. Then, click on Objects. This section will allow you to get all objects located in the Rampage's database.

When setting your setup, I recommend you to use the Creator Cam feature. It might look tricky to use at first sight, but using this camera will allow you to position your objects more precisely... and to basically see what you're doing. Without it, your objects will end up out of sight, which is obviously not something you want !

STEP 2 - Positioning tricks

Unless you want something to float above the ground, going by the positioning section is nearly mandatory.

Here are some details which might help you when positioning objects (and peds) :

Precision will increase/decrease how much your objects will move when you will position them.

X axis and Y axis will adjust the place where your want your object to be on an horizontal axis.

Z axis will allow you to move your object up or down.

Pitch and Roll will adjust your object’s position depending on where you placed them (rolling it a little when you’re on a slope, for example).  

Yaw will turn your object around (max 360°).

Texture will, just like it's called, change your object's texture depending of your choice, some objects might not have another colour.

Dynamic Entity is a feature which somewhat activates gravity if some of your spawned object is floating in the air.

I haven’t quite used the rest of these tools yet. If you know them, feel free to tell me more about it !

As you can see, as of today, I haven’t found a way to hide vegetation under a spawned object. If you have any idea, please let me know !

Now that we created or little setup, it’s time to have fun with peds and poses !

Adding Characters

STEP 3 - Spawn your desired ped

For this set of pictures, I decided I would be using a Chapter 3/4 version of Kieran along with a generic version of Arthur. In order to spawn the two of them, head over to Spawner, then to Peds, and then go to Search Peds.

Kieran Duffy’s ped model : CS_KIERAN, variation 7

Arthur Morgan’s ped model : PLAYER_ZERO, initial variation

Note that Arthur will spawn without a beard. If you want to edit this, you will need to head over to his ped wardrobe. A few beard options will be available, including player John's beards.

Another advice of mine is to freeze the peds you are about to spawn. It will block them from fleeing and move too much during a scenario or an animation. To do such, head over to Spawner Settings and select Spawn Frozen. You may also select Spawn Interactable if you want your peds to respond to you whenever you will want to interact with them.

I decided to allow Arthur to interact with Kieran and himself lmao

STEP 4 - Position your peds

You have two options to position your peds.

Option 1 – Use the creator cam feature :

I’m not very familiar with his one for now. Huge thanks to @adalidposts who made me discover it ! You just need to drag and drop your ped model wherever you want them to be. When you see this little green cross, it means that you can select your ped and move it where you want. The biggest advantage of this positioning trick is that your character wont stop his scenario/animation whenever you will move them.

As of today, I don’t know how to use this feature yet ! I’ll work on it !

Option 2 – Use the positioning feature :

(took me a while to realise but the two horses decided to despawn……….)

This is the feature I’ve been using so far. The menu is almost the same as the one you had for the objects, you just don’t have access to features like Pitch and Roll. This way has its ups and downs, the biggest coin it has it that your character leaves their loop as soon as you use the X, Y or Z axis.

However, as what I have noticed, not all scenarios will be available depending on your character. For example, Arthur won't be able to sit down and sketch when you’ll select the right scenario, or won’t play female-typed scenarios. You won’t be able to play animal scenarios either.

For this tutorial, I’ll use the positioning feature as I’m more familiar to it !

STEP 5 : Make your characters move

Option 1 : Scenarios

We will first start by using a scenario. All of them can be found in the Scenario section when you select your ped ! When you play a scenario with your character, some related objects will spawn. Want to smoke ? A cigarette, a cigar or a pipe will spawn you’re your character’s hand. Want to read something ? Either a journal, a notebook or an actual book will spawn ! Want a drink ? Just pick an option, a bottle or a glass will spawn too !

For this example, I’ll select two scenarios for Arthur and Kieran after positioning them, and this is the result I looked for (almost).

Kieran scenario : WORLD_HUMAN_SLEEP_GROUND_PILLOW

Arthur scenario : WORLD_CAMP_FIRE_LAY_GROUND_SIDE

Kieran scenario : WORLD_HUMAN_SLEEP_GROUND_ARM

Arthur scenario : WORLD_CAMP_FIRE_LAY_GROUND_SIDE + “Thank You” Upper-Body Loop Emote

Option 2 : Animations

Animations are... a very big thing, let’s be honest. It took me a while to realise how they worked, and I have still many things to learn since I have barely tried ten or eleven dictionaries so far.

Animations work exactly like scenarios. However, props won’t spawn when your character will get into one. The main advantage is that you’re actually free to use whatever animation you want, scenarios which were locked for your character can be unlocked by selecting the right animation. You want Arthur to act like Abigail with Charles ? Feel free to pick up an animation and use it as you wish !

A full list of animations can be found of GitHub with the like I provided above. Don’t worry if you feel lost or something, I was really scared when I first glanced at them ! I advise you to copy them into an xml file and keep them around you might want to use some of them someday.

Rampage provides you a set of animations. In order to access them, go to animation dictionaries and click on reload list. All animations pre-registered in Rampage will be found there, feel free to try them ! Don’t worry if your animation dictionaries list doesn’t look like mine, I already added a few animations inside !

How to play an animation :

Animations can come across as being quite tricky to use. Here is what you will find if you select one of the animations already provided in Rampage.

If you want to use a custom animation from your XML file, head to Play Custom. You will be met with two fields to fill. Select your animation as such :

Set the Anim Flags to 1 so your characters will enter a loop and won’t stop playing the animation you set for them.

Here is our final result by using the frozen couple animation, with the upper body loop of the “thank you” emote (I wanted to make them smile !)

There are plenty animations out there to use ! I still haven’t figured how you can make two peds perform an animation together at the same time (like a dancing animation, I actually look for the right moment and manually click on play to trigger it). Feel free to tell me if you found another way !

Now that you finished preparing your setup and made your peds pose correctly, you might want to change time to get a better lightning. Head back to Rampage’s main menu and select World, then select Time. You will be able to play with the game's clock and get a better lightening. My favourite is either Sunset or Sunrise.

Final Results (without Photoshop, I was being lazy)

NOTA BENE :

Some animations and scenarios can be very glitchy, since many characters were not designed to perform some of them.

If you use the positioning feature of rampage instead of creator cam, your character will stop playing your scenario.

If you want to play Jack's animations/scenarios (some of them are cute), your hat will literally fly above your head.

Some object will get some texture issues depending on your location, or might vanish somewhere depending on your positioning details.

You can add custom animation to Rampage by going inside your Rampage files : Rampage/Lists/PedAnimList.txt

Here's a short list of some cool animations I found so far (mostly couples) :

Hug animation (used in the three last shots) :

script_re@kidnap_victim

thank_you_a_plr thank_you_b_plr thank_you_b_victim thank_you_a_victim

________

Another hug animation :

script_re@proposal@accept

action_male action_female

________

Bed hug animation

cnv_camp@rcbch@slp@bcabi_slp_cnv2

action_abigail action_john

________

Sean and Karen on knees animation (return party)

cnv_camp@rchso@mus@ccunsnkns_sng1

karen_action sean_action karen_intro_base sean_intro_base karen_intro sean_intro

________

Arthur and Karen dance loop (can be used for Mary-Beth)

cnv_camp@rchso@cnv@ccdtc33@player_karen

karen_dance_loop arthur_dance_loop

****

Making this tutorial was tacky since I'm still not really skilled with animations. If you have any questions or corrections to provide, feel free to tell me ! ❤️

[kickingitwithkirk]

When Reality is Worse than the Lies they told Me

Summary: You’re awoken by voices coming from the kitchen remember you’ve got company. 

Well, that’s what you keep reminding yourself to politely call those dumb as a bag of rocks, Temp V using fucking idiots and the druggernaut Super Supe they’ve got in tow. 

Part I Part II Part III

Pairing: Solder Boy x You

Word Count: 3716

*Do not read if you find anything offensive-triggering about/on/from The Boys series

*More warnings will be added in additional parts

Warnings: cursing, verbal arguments, racial/derogatory slurs, sexual situations, loads of marijuana/drugs, PTSD, sexist Supe, more cursing, physical altercations, firearms, knife wielding, still cursing, outdated slang, toxic male attitudes, lots of cursing, Soldier Boy thinking he’s the man and learns about online porn, medical experimentations, reliving long buried memories, possible death by chicken 

Square Filled: @anyfandomdarkbingobingo -” Who did this to you?”

*divider by @firefly-graphics

A/N: I’m using season 3 as a template for this so it will contain spoilers from the series mixed with original ideas.

A/N II: this part got way longer than planned but the characters are running the show so blame them.

You’re awoken by voices coming from the kitchen remember you’ve got company. 

Well, that’s what you keep reminding yourself to politely call those dumb as a bag of rocks, Temp V using fucking idiots and the druggernaut Super Supe they’ve got in tow. 

Laying there you can hear Hughie asking Butcher if he knows..their voices become unintelligible as another pain hits you, finding yourself curling up into a ball waiting for it to pass.

There’s a tap on your door before opening, “sorry to disturb but Hughie’s wonder..” Butcher breaks off shutting the door then he’s sitting on the bed.

“What’s it love, those pains again?” 

You grimace nodding.

“What you need is a nice cuppa. I’ll put the kettle on and see ‘bout nickin’ a benzos from beaver cleaver.” 

He gently squeezed your shoulder before stepping out hollars, “Oi Hughie, would ya’ put that kettle on the Arthur?”

“Put the kettle on what?”

“..stove.”

“Jesus, speak English..” 

“..I did ya’ fuckin’ git!”

It was good to know their banter hasn’t changed with all the shit happening. 

Rummaging in the side table drawer fish around for a specific bottle dry swallow a couple capsules overhear Soldier Boy loudly cursing at Butcher before the Brits stomping down the stairwell and out the front door.

Round to the Supe.

A knock and the door slowly opening interrupts your thoughts, “I won’t cut off your balls today,” you half-jokingly reassure Hughie since he’s always acted like a nervous nellie around you.

“Whew, that’s a relief because I forgot to put on my codpiece this morning.” 

Rolling your eyes at his craptastic humor shift to sit up against the headboard, taking the offered mug, “oh, this too,” he drops a white pill in your hand. 

“Thanks,” you snapped the pill into thirds so Hughie thinks you’ve only swallowed a piece with a swig of tea, “pull up a chair and fill me in on why the others are dodging my calls and where you two dumbfucks dug up portaloo boy.”

Hughie’s eyes got bigger as he sat, “Ahh, how much has Butcher told you?”

“Fuck all, so start at the beginning.”

“Okay, well it started when we found out about this weapon the Russians supposedly killed Soldier Boy with, BCL-RED..”

“..then Legend came in freaking out because there’s two..older ladies on the bed while Soldier Boys..” 

“..priming the pump?”

“That image is forever burned on my retinas. Anyway, words were exchanged and then we ended up at your door this morning.” 

You feel the drugs mixing in your system find Hughie’s fidgeting annoying, “stop wriggling like a fucking worm on a hook and spit it out.” 

“What’d you mean by recycling?”

“Back in the day, Legend kept a certain type of entertainment on retainer for his clients, referred to them as his Supe groupies.” 

Hughie still wasn’t getting it, “Jesus you’re thick..16 will get you 20..catch my drift?”

“You mean those women..used to be..Soldier Boy said they were like fine wine..that’s why Legend couldn’t fire..”

“Don’t think he grew a conscience, it’s Jewish guilt.” 

“And Phoebe Cates..Oh God..I just threw up in my mouth!”

“Bet you’re wishing you’d bought stock in barf bags right about now.”

Late morning

You're standing at the farm sink listening to Hughie trying to justify why he retrieved only three eggs from the laying hens.

“..scarier than that brain eating hamster..”

“..it’s a fuckin’ chicken.” 

“Didn’t you see the sign about Countess?” 

“You named that chicken after Soldier Boy's..”

Hughie’s mouth snapped shut as said Supe galumphed in a silk robe flopping on the chair directly across from you lit the joint hanging between his full lips inhales deeply and holds it an fucking impressive amount of time before exhaling like a dragon.

“What’s ball bag bitching about now?”

“Ya’ ex-camgirl namesake.” Butcher smirked.

“Camgirl? That another one of those words he makes up.”

You open a drawer removing one of the burner phones you kept around the house goggle SupePorn.com and turn it so the guys can watch the commemorative video created by SirCumsALot779.

The sounds of Crimson Countess’s fake AF pleasurable moans and squelching fluid fill the now quiet room makes you mentally vomit when you see Hughie backing towards the door and Butcher shift closer, warily watching Soldier Boy when the Supes hand shot out grabbing your wrist yanks you between his splayed legs.

Being in close proximity you can smell the musk he radiates makes you wetter then that dead whore could’ve possibly even gotten for him watch his drugga pupils eclipse the sliver of his verte absinthe irises leaving them dark like a shark.

“Countess wan’t just doing cheap tricks at Vought Land,” Butcher comments from where’s he’s now standing, “caught ‘er ‘bout’ta back door betty a’fuckin’ ginormous string of beads for that blighter there, been dropping coin on ‘er like it’s going outta style.”  

“You watch porn on that thing?” He curiously asks you.

 “Low budget VHS gone the way of eight tracks.”   

Sticking the joint back between his plump lips he takes the phone inspecting it, “how do you use this thing?”

Your hand quivers over the touch screen accidentally brush your fingers against his, his grip tightens.

“You break my ameche, I break your face, capiche?”

“Ameche?” Hughie inquires in dumb-bambi mode, “oh, the cell..why do you keep a burner phone in the kitchen?” 

You twist and he relinquishes his grip ease from between those thick, muscular thighs try to regain some semblance of composure reach in the drawer again to retrieve a Sig Sauer P220R.

“I’m a safety girl,” you reply shakily then clear your throat, “excuse me gentlemen,” handing the gun to Hughie, “in case Countess gives you any more grief over those eggs.”

Two and half weeks later 

“Get off my jock!” 

Hughie came in from the poach found annoying as fuck lounging in the recliner again, robe partially open sans underwear turned his attention to where the yelling came from, “who’s she talking to?”

“Your ex-snatch.”

“Don’t call her that, her name is Annie.”

“Annie musta got her rocks off pegging a..”

“Don’t you dare hang up..fucking Supe cunt!”

*Text>Serge, call me, it’s important!” not twenty seconds later you answer it. 

“What the fuck, why y’all ignoring me Frenchie..are you using again..okay, okay I get it. Listen, I need all the stuff Mothers got..don’t play stupid, I know about your little vay-k to Ruskieland..no, I haven’t heard from either of them..don’t fucking care what Mother says..Alors parle-moi en français pour qu'il ne sache pas!”

**Then speak to me in French so he don’t know!

“What’s the deal with the frog and slant cunt..”

“Please don’t call them that.”

“Whatever Monistat Seven,” he begins blowing smoke rings while Hughie continues eavesdropping. 

“Fuck Mère et son putain de putain de conneries mentales avec Soldier Boy! Je me fiche de la façon dont tu le fais, donne-moi ces fichiers.”

**Fuck Mother and his fucking mental bullshit drama with Soldier Boy! I don’t care how you fucking do it, get me those files.

“So what’s her deal? 

“Huh?” 

“How’d a fine ass bitch like her wind up with you fucking miscreants?”

“Y/N used to work for Vought, archives I think.”

”Think or know?”

Hughie tears his attention away from you, “what the fucks with the questions about Y/N? You’ve shown little interest in anything you can’t swallow, snort, kill, or fuck..oh no, you keep your dick away from her, she’s off limits!”

Instead of lashing out with his usual vulgarity and threats he says, “just curious. Seems like a flimsy reason for muff muncher to have recruited her. Gotta be more to it than she was just a librarian.” 

Soldier Boy's expression, not the first time, became melancholy. “From what I’ve seen of you idiots, it takes some majorly fucked up shit to break the trust between you,” referencing his team he trusted before Nicaragua, “so why’re they icing her out?” 

Hughie mentally kicked himself.

Despite an intense dislike of the Supes outdated attitudes; the overtly macho, arrogant, prone to violence against whoever disagreed with him or considered weak, no qualms in manipulating others, especially women, to garner what he wanted. But when he’d stop being Soldier Boy he’d open up..usually when coming down from the bennies and the booze loosening his tongue.

Conversations of the past, about his life over the decades in the realm of fame and a fair amount of nausea-inducing stories containing reprehensible deeds done with other famous persons, revealed he once dreamed of normal, becoming a father with the Countess and raising sons to be real men, whatever that concept meant in his head. 

Then outta nowhere he’d get that expression, leaving unspoken the thing that haunts him but Hughie was smart enough not to press his luck and ask who did this to you?

“Something happened with Grace, no one knows what, and Y/N left shortly before the group's disbandment in 2015.” 

The Supe went back to blowing smoke rings, feeling a nagging around the edges of his memories that’d started the moment you stood illuminated from behind in that nightshirt, doing little to disguise your sumptuous curves, eyes screaming recognition at not just knowing who he was but knowing him.

“If you insist on letting your freak flag fly, have Butcher pick up some bras ball wax ‘cause grass on the field went out with bearded clam,” you bark heading down the hall loudly shut your bedroom door.

He peered down at his exposed junk and..

“What’re you ogling nob gobbler?”

Six weeks later

The house was becoming a tinderbox.

Annie hadn’t let up with her IG posts after Herogasm and kept rejecting all of Hughie’s attempts to contact her, putting him into a funk. 

Mindstorm, a paranoid fuck from the go, had dozens of aliases and as many properties to hide out on in a three-state radius slowing the search for him.

And there was Black Noir, who’d done runner after seeing the video of his back from the dead captain's revenge on the Countess and not one of Butchers or your contacts had a fucking clue where the ninja wannabe had vanished to led to a mutual decision to lockdown Soldier Boy on your thankfully extensive property.

Of course when informed it sent him into the foulest of verbal tirades the likes of you hadn’t heard in years finally ordering him out of the house to take his frustration out on the old barn you hadn’t demonstrated yet.

He wouldn’t lay off the blow and it didn't help when confronted about his PTSD told Butcher, "okay, first off, I don't have shell shock, fuck you."

Yeah right, and you had ocean front property in Arizona.

Butchers went from obtaining a pound of weed to bricks to blunt his edginess and all of you had a constant contact high from his various combos of blunts. 

It sure a shit wasn’t helping the longer he was in your presence, the harder he was trying to get in your pants, pissing Butcher and Hughie off, all unaware it wasn’t because you had the only putang in a twenty mile radius. 

Thanks to one of the side effects from the original Comp V, the Supes constantly pumping out androstenone and it’s messing with your endocrine system to the point the specific meds you need to keep it balanced were becoming ineffective, hence the pains, and the copulin your producing is overstimulating his already extreme sex drive.

Fuck, your vehement hatred for Vogelbaum is resurfacing in spades.

*Private conversation sometime later

“Hughie, you wouldn’t happen to know who Mothers provider is?”

“As a matter of fact, I hooked him up with his current one a year ago.”

“I can backdoor and download those video files, maybe figure out what is in the physical ones he won’t send.”

You waited until everyone had turned in before entering your office.

Checking the connection, you insert the Air Pods and click the first MP4 file, the time stamp shows it was five months after Soldier Boy was captured.

It’s a routine examination of the unconscious Supe restrained at wrists and ankles, clad in nothing but a mask feeding whatever the Russians created to keep him unconscious.

You watch the video files progress over the decades from fairly placid routine examinations escalating to the sadistic testing of his physical resilience to external/internal damage.

A person thrusts a scalpel in his left eye and breaking free violently kills them before being gassed back into unconsciousness, a PP-19 Vityaz is fired into his mouth, the handheld saw with diamond blade applied to various parts of his body, acetylene torches left burning on one spot for hours, various corrosive fluids poured through tubes inserted down his throat, into his urethra and rectum and being placed, while conscious, in a container watch as the attached geiger counter ticks upwards with the massive doses of radiation released.

The videos would be hard enough to watch muted but the sounds coming through the Air Pods; his cursing and threats, sometimes turning to pleas, followed by unending agonized screams till Soldier Boy either succumbs to unconsciousness or is gassed down dredged up long-buried memories.

Vogelbaum standing outside the labs glass viewing window with the others..pages flipping on clipboards..chatting about previous results and what moderations were made for this round of testing..a tech in biohazard gear..your chests constricting and breath coming out in labored gasps turning into..

Spots exploded behind your eyes and your left cheeks throbbing like you’ve been sucker punched by an eighteen-wheeler when a violent shake makes you snap-focus.

Soldier Boys kneeling in front of you, eyes saying that, without a doubt, as hard as he just hit you confirms his suspicion..you’re a Supe.

“Ouch you motherfucker, what was that for?” 

“You were screaming the fucking house down ‘fraid you’d give mayonnaise eater a heart attack.” 

“For someone who thinks streaming is a fad, you've picked up modern slang PDQ,” you smart off rubbing your sore cheek peer over his shoulder as a bug-eyed Hughie comes in ahead of Butcher, carrying a large black plastic bag and gashed cheek, “fuckin’ hell, wha’ goin’ on? I heard’ya from the bloody car!”

You move to get up but your legs have jelloize so the Supe grabs your arm lifting up like you weighed nothing, “she must've fallen asleep working and had a nightmare, right?”

Holy shit!! You can’t believe he didn’t rat out you.

“Yeah, crazy dream..Countess had de-evolved into a T-Rex..”

“What’s with you people an’that fuckin’ chicken? Bunch of blooming nutters!” He glances at Hughie, “get dressed, gotta lead on Mindstorm needing checked out.” 

“Oi wanker,” tossing the bag, “that’ll have’ta hold ya’ over for a bit.” He points at you, “if you lay one finger on ‘er while we’re gone..”

“You’ll what?”

“Stow the Alpha crap!” You snapped at both fuckers, “I’m sick and tired of your pissing contest! He may be a manipulative bastard who’s done a shit tone of reprehensible stuff and so have you Butcher, but he’s never forcibly raped anyone!”

“Wadda ’bout Gunpowder's complaints of finger diddling?”

“I smacked the kid around a bit but never bad place touched him.”

Butcher opens his mouth but you cut him off, “for some unfathomable reason you believe I need protecting. I mean, why else would you’ve left bitch boy behind..”

“Hey, I’m standing right here!” You give Hughie the look, “and I’m gonna get dressed now.”

Rubbing your forehead, notice how clammy it is, “God, feel like I’m covered in flop sweat.”

“I can help you get clean, scrub your back or anywhere..” you interrupt before the Supe gets any further.

“William, he’s taken the piss.”

You come out of your private bath to find Soldier Boy seated on the picture windows bench seat between the built-ins using his eagle head knife to finely cut a substance on an antique side table before adding it to a roll paper mixture by his elbow then seals it.

“What’s with the,” he gestures to your t-shirt wrapped hair. “It doesn’t damage like towels do while drying.”

Sitting down you lean back against one built-in, “what’d you lace that Bob Hope with?”

Tapping the side of his nose, “guaranteed to kill a blue whale but mellow out a Supe like nothing else.”

“Seriously?”

“Mm-hmm, you need something to take the edge ‘cause wiggin’ out like that,” his jaw ticked, “you never stop remembering what created it.”

“Step one,” leaning over he snorted one of several lines, “Legend always has the best Star-Spangled Powder, not like that flake shit the limey bastard gets.”

“Step two,” gestures to you to do a line picks up the blunt flicked the old butane lighter he’s had since WWII lit up the blunt watches you blink rapidly at the burning sensation in your nasal passages and sucks in a lungful rasps out, “Step three,” catching you unawares he sprang forward nailing you with a shotgun kiss.

The dope's vapor hits your system like an aphrodisiac, all your resistance instantaneously dissolves and, once again, you turn the tables roughly knocking the Supe on his back straddle his hips and he smirks up at you.

“I do like the aggressive type.”

“Do you ever shut the fuck up?”

He responds by tugging the shirt off and tangling his thick fingers into your damp hair jerked you into a bruising kiss that was all teeth and tongue before he's breathily asking, “is this why you had a falling out with Mallory?”

“Fucking cock tease,” you grunt out grinding your core against his hard as his shield member, “yes, she kicked me to the curb over my hair dying technique.”

“Fucking smart ass,” his lush lips move over your necks delicate skin, “was it you're being familiar with weaponry? Those booby traps around your property; special ops would be envious.”

“You’ve met my associates, where the hell do you think I learned..”

"..so how’d she find out?”

You abruptly sit back, “what game are you playing at,” moving to get off him he tightened his grip in your hair, “these last week's you’ve been driving me crazy like no woman ever has. I know it's something to do with these,” reaching behind a pillow he took out the pill bottle from your nightstand, “don’t know what this shit is but I know Vought pharma when I see it!”

“You damn well know Vought's got their mitts in everything..”

“..why am I the only one being affected by your tang without actually being between your thighs?” 

“Good night, Ben,” jamming your thumb into a pressure point he loosened his grip and you slid off him wobble to your bed not caring your hairs still damp crawl on top grabbing the body pillow curl up around it.

You laid there half lucid as the drugs dwindled your consciousness began humming that tune, the one who’s words you lost, that had brought you comfort after Vogelbaums tests on the car ride home.

The pissed off Supe snorts the other lines licks the pad of his index finger swiped up the bits left rubbing it over his gums sits back stares out the window puffin the blunt intending to ignore you when the tune travels across the quiet room triggering a long-forgotten memory from another time.

~~~

The bedcurtains open and the covers are flung off.

 “Wake up Benjamin,” his governess snapped at him in her clip accent, “it's 7:00 and your father demands you present yourself promptly at 7:45. Stupid child, you’re as lazy as those wogs he employs in his mills!” Her heels echoed on the wooden floor as she left.

Benjamin slid out his barely warm bed, felt the bitterly cold floor under his small feet, penetrating his bones to the marrow, whimpers crossing to his clothes chest and pulling out his thick winter undergarments began dressing himself. 

By the time he finished tying his boots the bedroom door reopened and he’s greeted by a smiling Mary, the cook's assistant who brought his meals every day.

“There’s my handsome young man, eat up before it’s cold.” She stayed till he’s done, chatting away about the latest household gossip. 

While Mary tries to stay cheerful, they both know this is the last time they’ll get to share secrets now he’s turned six and leaving to attend boarding school as his father did.

When he’s done, Benjamin's eyes fill with tears.

“We canna have that, spoiling those bonnie green eyes with tears.” 

Using a corner of her pinny dabs his face dry, “there, all better. Now, we're not gonna pretend you’re not gonna be sad, so when ya’ feel down, sing our special song to yourself, it’ll put the happy back inna.”

Holding out her hands he steps up on her booted feet and they dance, singing together one last time.

~~~

A bubble of anger rolled up from his depths. 

Where did she learn that fucking song?

He got up intent on beating the truth outta her saw something in his peripheral and froze, there’s an old photo of himself in a shadow box.

Lifting it off the shelf finds the other half blocked by a child’s vintage wood block sits back down removes its back and takes both items out, instinctively knowing they were a key in the puzzle that was Y/N examines the old block first, its colors faded with time, sat it on the table.

Delicately lifting the equally aged picture between his extraordinarily strong fingers notices the ink stamp on its back.

March 1

Vought R&D Laboratory

The Supes heart rate increased and not from the drugs, hesitant to flip the photo over, “suck it up you pansy ass cry baby bitch..I'm not a fucking pussy!”

In the photograph he’s clad in his Supe-suit sitting cross-legged on a colorful, cartoon animal area rug mirthfully smiling at a thirteen-month-old girl in a sunny yellow dress holding the wood block out to him.

SPN TAGS: @donnaintx @lyarr24 @flamencodiva @b3autyfuldisast3r @lassie-bird @nancymcl @spnbaby-67 @leigh70

Dean/Jensen: @thoughts-and-funnies @stoneyggirl2 @akshi8278 @b3autyfuldisast3r @smoothdogsgirl @siospins2

Soldier Boy: @charred-angelwings @spnwoman @impalaspixie @globetrotter28

[mihrsuri]

hiiii! :D :D :D for the truth or dare...

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats 

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? 

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...please and thank you!

🎱 ⇢ post your AO3 total stats 

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction? I honestly think I was writing it/telling myself it before I even knew what fic was - I’d tell myself stories (or friends and I would play out stories) based off TV shows, books and movies and so when I came across online it was just an expansion really. (I think I was looking for X-Files or The Bill content when I first started exploring).

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🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character I don’t know if this is an unpopular opinion but I do not believe that Elrond’s feelings about kidnap dads are/were uncomplicated. He loves them yes, but they aren’t uncomplicated. Also at least in terms of reboot!Trek I haven’t seen OG TOS I do not ship Kirk/Spock if it’s not Kirk/Spock/Uhura. This is also true with Merlin and Arthur/Merlin. Gwen has to be included for me.