#brai not braining. at all?

[marcusagrippa]

like. yes. humans are terrible a lot of the time. but holy shit it's so fucking insane that we even exist in the first place, let alone that we've built everything that we've built, let alone that we still have access to as much history as we do, and if i think too hard about stories i feel A Lot because it goes back and back and back and throughout everything that we've been through as a species, stories have always held us together, stories and dreams and poems and it fucks me up sometimes because when i'm studying poetry it's easy to think 'ugh this is so dull' but then you read one tiny line and then you're punched in the gut and you remember that this was written by a person, a person who was alive, once, and that in your hands your hold a tiny little piece of their heart and their hopes and their dreams, and it's sort of necromancy, isn't it, to read what they wrote and feel what they felt, and we're human and we've always been human, and if we've always had stories and words and poetry then they're us, really, and we're them, and i don't understand people who find literature boring because it's just it's the sum of everything that the author's ever known, every experience they've had, every other book they've read which has been the sum of everything another's ever known and there's not really a point to this but we are indistinguishable from our stories, we are our stories and our wars and our love and and and and

[brainworms-all-night-long]

It's than — when Nine finally feels at peace and manages to fall asleep without the fear of waking up back in New Yoke again. When he finds himself going outside of his own accord more often, to simply enjoy the scenery, without feeling like it will desolve righ before his eyes any second — when the tragedy of his life, and all the pain he held burried deep inside began to make itself known.

When he sees the near constant brightness and care radiating not only from Sonic, but almost everyone he's met. When he realizes just how common it actually is to have someone look out for you and support you without judgement. Or to help each other out, without asking anything in return.

That's when he finds himself the most broken and woulnerable he's ever been.

[bandomgay]

.

[makerscockandballs]

reaching tbe mental health point where i wonder if this is actually a physical issue

[fleurladari]

fuck i’m thinking about the video again

[backwardblackbyrd]

I'm okay being perceived :) (lying)

[tears-exe]

Eating disorder/poor as fuck vent in tag

[penny00dreadful]

So does anyone remember that post that was like "Robin and Eddie meet when she does that thing that's like 'hello, please pretend you know me so I can get away from this person' then Steddie happens?" Because I do. I cannot for the life of me find it. If anyone knows the post I'm talking about please let me know so I can link it, this is very much not my idea, it's that persons idea but the brain worms got me so here we are. 🤷‍♀️

We found it! It's this post by @wynnyfryd Thank you Anon! Obviously I went in a different direction with it but this post was 100% my inspiration so thank you for helping me find it!

AO3 link for those asking! 🖤

Robin should be royally pissed off with herself right now. She would be if she wasn’t so damn scared.

That guy was still trailing behind her, no matter the twists and turns she’d taken down different streets trying to lose him and the only thing she’d gained from it was to get totally and completely lost. It could be something completely innocent, the guy might be coincidentally going in the same direction as her but she wasn’t willing to give him the benefit of the doubt if it meant keeping herself alive.

The distance between the two of them was slowly closing as she was followed through the dark and empty streets of the city, hoping, praying for some kind of shop or restaurant or something to make an appearance so she could hide inside but apparently Robin was able to find the one street in this city where everything was either closed for the night or boarded up.

Her heart was pounding in her ears and the beginnings of tears were starting to sting her eyes and all she could think of was how sick with worry Steve was going to be in the morning when he woke up to no missed calls, no missed texts and no Robin. She’d scoffed at him hours earlier when he’d offered to go to the ‘work thing’ with her but she'd told him she was a big girl and she could look after herself and not to be such a worrywart mom.

And now she had no idea where her phone had gone, if she'd left it behind or dropped it somewhere, no idea where she was and no idea of what she was going to do.

If she’d been a bit more present in her head she probably would have noticed the loud, braying, male laughter coming from just ahead of her and crossed the street to avoid them before it was obvious she was avoiding them. But as it was she could barely see straight through her tears and panicked tunnel vision while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on the slowly encroaching guy behind her. She was practically already in the group’s space and one of them had definitely already seen her though he didn’t pay her any attention.

But even through her blurred vision and panic, she finally registered what exactly she was looking at. Four men standing around the entrance to what looked like the diviest of empty dive bars, chain smoking and being as loud as humanly possible, but that’s not what caught her eye.

Long hair, chains, leather, denim, tartan, rings, tattoos, subculture. If Robin had to choose a group of men to approach, any kind of subculture would be the best option. They knew what it was like to be other. There was no guarantee these guys were safe, but they were probably safer than a group of frat boys.

The next thing that caught her eye that nearly made her cry in relief as she got closer were the patches and pins.

A rainbow ‘A’ against a black and white striped background pinned on one guys collar, a yellow-white-purple-black patch on another's arm, a pink-yellow-blue patch over the third guys heart and a progress pride flag pinned to the largest guys pocket.

Her people.

Without a second's hesitation she made a bee-line for them, planting herself firmly next to yellow-white-purple-black patch person who had a mess of thick light brown curls that reminded her of Steve’s hair. They fell painfully silent at her arrival.

The four of them blinked down at her, with her tearfilled eyes and wild aura of panic around her they were probably, understandably freaked out.

“Hi guys!” She called out to them, probably a little too loud, hoping her voice carried back to the fucker following her, tensing as she could actually hear his footsteps approaching now.

The guy with the longest hair and the pink-yellow-blue patch standing directly in front of her glanced quickly over her shoulder before returning his gaze to her. His face split into a wide warm grin, tapping her shoulder lightly.

“Hey girlie. We thought you weren’t coming, we’ve been waiting.”

The footsteps behind her audibly slowed down. Robin laughed, a little maniacally, keeping her frantic gaze on him, not daring to turn around. “Yeah, I uh- g- got sidetracked.”

“Eddie, what-”

Pink-yellow-blue patch guy, Eddie she supposed, slapped ‘A’ patch guy lightly on the stomach with the back of his hand, shutting him up as her pursuer passed them by, giving the group a wide berth.

“Hey, no worries. You’re here now, right?”

Pride patch guy kept his eyes on the guy who’d been following her the whole time, only looking away when he eventually turned the corner, disappearing into the night.

Robin immediately felt her posture slacken now that he was finally gone, the full weight of everything coming down on her. Her tears began to spill over and her whole body shook as hysterical sobs started to pour out of her body.

“I’m sorry. I’m- I’m sorry. I didn’t know what else to do. I think I left my phone behind and I don’t know where I am. We only moved here a couple of weeks ago and I got lost trying to get away and- and-”

“Hey, hey. It’s okay.” Yellow-white-purple-black patch person squeezed her shoulder lightly, keeping their distance. “You’re okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“We can call someone for you, if you want?” Eddie asked, crossing his arms tight like he was trying not to reach out to her, probably worried it would freak her out more. “Boyfriend or girlfriend-”

“Or romantic partner.” The person with their hand on her shoulder interjected lightly.

“Alright Baron from the Baronies.” Eddie snorted. “But fair point, Gareth. Romantic partner or friend or whatever?”

“Um,” Robin’s voice was still shaking. “I don’t… I’ve never been good at memorising numbers…”

“Me too, terrible at them.” Eddie smiled again, pulling his phone from his pocket. Robin’s fear and panic was almost entirely gone now even though she was still hiccuping and sniffling underneath their concerned gazes. They were all firmly keeping their distance, keeping any touches short and fleeting, not moving too suddenly, trying their best to make sure she knew they weren’t a threat and it was really helping her to start feeling safe again. “But we could try to find them online? Instagram or something?”

“Yeah. Yeah we could try that.” She wiped her eyes roughly against her sleeve as she shuffled over to Eddie’s side. “My best friend, Steve, he uh- he’s probably asleep and I don’t think you can call him if you don’t have him added…”

“You can send him a message.” Eddie replied easily, handing his phone over. “And if he doesn’t wake up, we’ll try something else.” 

“Don’t worry we’ll get you home.” ‘A’ patch guy smiled down at her while pride patch guy nodded along.

Robin sniffed again. “Thanks.” She was able to conjure up a small watery smile as she opened the app and found Steve’s profile, shooting off a quick message begging him not to freak out and explaining the situation as concisely as she could.

“Here.” She handed Eddie back his phone who glanced down at it for just a second before his eyes widened slightly as he scrolled through Steve’s profile.

“Oh shit. This is your friend?”

Robin nodded. “Mm-hmm.”

“He’s… he’s really pretty.”

That managed to pull a startled laugh from her. “Oh god, don’t tell him that, you’ll give him a big head.”

“Let me see?” Gareth asked, whistling low when Eddie turned his phone around showing a photo of Steve and Robin at their last pride parade cheering with the crowd, Steve with the pink-purple-blue of the bi flag smeared across each cheek and Robin with the pinks, oranges and white of the lesbian flag draped around her shoulders. “He is really pretty.”

Eddie snatched the phone back, cradling it to his chest. “Fuck off, Gare. I saw him first.”

Robin smiled again. “Any response from him?”

“Hm?” Eddie asked distractedly, scrolling through Steve’s photos before pride flag guy punched him in the shoulder. “Ow! Wh- oh, sorry!” Eddie frantically scrolled back up before clicking into his messages again and shaking his head. “Nothing yet.” He held the phone out to show her.

“Okay.”

“What’s your address? If he doesn’t respond, we'll find a way to get you there.”

“Uh…” Robin was drawing a complete blank, only able to remember her parents home address hundreds of miles away.

“Or tell us something nearby.” Eddie added, not missing a beat, clearly picking up on Robin’s lack of an answer. “What’s on your street?”

“Um,” she closed her eyes, trying to picture it in her head, “there’s a couple of Chinese take outs, Asian food store, paint store… there’s… I think it’s a tattoo parlour? There’s designs painted on the window, a tower on either side. I think they’re from Lord of the Rings?”

“Inklings? Is that the place?”

Robin opened her eyes. Eddie was grinning at her conspiratorially. “That’s it. You know it?”

“Would you believe me if I told you I work there?”

“No way.”

“Way.”

Hope was starting to grow feathers inside Robin’s chest. She could go home, she didn’t have to stay out all night waiting for Steve to wake up and never let her out of his sight again, she could hug her best friend and drink coffee out of her favourite mug and curse at their finicky fridge and steal his hair products again. She could go home.

“Is it far?”

“Nah, only a few streets away. Ten minute walk, tops.”

“D’you- I mean… do you think you could-” Could she really ask them to walk her home after they’d already done so much for her? Would she be asking too much? Could she be putting herself in more danger?

“I can take you there if you want? Let you get back to your… Steve.” There was a slight blush dusting over Eddie’s cheeks. Maybe he did have an ulterior motive, but it wasn’t an ulterior motive involving her. If she wasn’t so wrung out and aching to crawl into her own bed she’d be thinking up teasing material to lambaste Steve with. But as it was, she was desperate to get home.

“Would that be okay?”

“Yeah.” Eddie replied, bright and easy. “It would just be me and you though,” he held his hands up in surrender, “and you can totally say no, like if you're uncomfortable or whatever. Gareth is Grant and Jeff’s ride home and you’re still on the clock, right?” He turned to Gareth towards the end of his sentence.

“Yeah, but I get off shift in about an hour so could come in if you wanted, wait around in the back room until then if you wanna go as a group?” They answered. 

“I think… I think I just want to get home.”

“Okay, cool. No worries I’ll get you there safe and sound. Here,” Eddie pulled his phone out again, “I’m gonna message Steve to let him know we’re on the way in case he wakes up,” he showed her the short message only sending it off when she gave a nod, “and I’ll get you to navigate just so we don’t get lost.” 

He handed his phone to her with the maps app open, directing them towards Inklings tattoo parlour. He was playing it off like an easy joke, instead of another way to assure her she was safe. He was making sure she knew exactly where he was taking her at all times, he was making sure she had the ability to call the police or whatever if he turned on her, he was making sure she knew he didn’t need or want her address if she didn’t want to give it. 

This fucking guy.

He definitely wouldn’t be the worst choice Steve had ever made if it did go that way.

“I don’t know how to thank all of you, seriously. I don’t know what I would have done if I hadn’t run into you.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Grant smiled at her before hesitating. “Uh, I just realised we don’t have your name.”

“Oh!” She laughed at herself, feeling lighter. “I’m Robin.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Robin.” Grant held his hand out, shaking hers once she took it.

“Likewise.”

“And don’t worry about thanking us, just pay it forward, yeah?” Jeff said.

“Plus.” Gareth took on a nonchalant tone even though they had a smirk plastered over their face. “We’ll see you again at Steve and Eddie’s wedding.”

“Shut up!” Eddie scowled but didn’t hold onto it for long in the wake of Robin’s giggles.

She sighed once the giggles subsided, a weight lifted off her shoulders. “I look forward to it.” She raised her hand in salute as the three of them headed back inside, turning to Eddie as he held his elbow out.

“Shall we?”

Robin tried to suppress her smile but took Eddie’s arm anyway. They only made it down one street and around one corner, Robin clutching tight to Eddie’s phone before he finally asked.

"So."

"So."

"Best friend Steve." Eddie twirled his rings around his fingers. "Is he…"

“He’s single.” She answered lightly. “But you might be arriving into his life at the wrong time. He’s recently sworn off men.”

“Well we’ve all sworn off men once or twice. Men are terrible.”

“Agreed.”

“Is it because of a bad ex?”

Robin threw her head back with a groan remembering the giant breakdown that had finally finally ended it. “Tommy was the worst. He’s the reason we even moved out here, there’s nowhere to get away from an ex in a small town, you know? They’re everywhere. I’m not going to go into what happened, it’s not my business to say but it was bad.”

Eddie nodded, his eyes down on the ground, running through everything in his head.

Robin could see the tattoo parlour up ahead, the glorious sight of their apartment building just a few buildings away.

“Do you think… with time… he could open himself up to men again?”

Eddie had such a tentative hope in his eyes, it was adorable really. Looking over him, she thought about the type of people Steve would constantly thirst over, blip in the matrix Tommy Hagan notwithstanding.

Lithe bodies with full lips and giant eyes, hair he could run his fingers through and something unusual about them. Something odd.

He’d never explicitly gone for someone so heavily into a subculture before but he’d never turned them down either. And based on Eddie’s job at the tattoo parlour and the way he was dressed, he almost definitely had some ink on him. That alone would be enough to make Steve swoon.

“I think he might. Will you walk me up?” Robin asked, holding the door to the building open, offering Eddie the same kindness under the guise of doing a favour that he had offered her so many times tonight.

“Yeah, sure.”

They’d managed to make it up to the third floor, walking down her hallway before Eddie’s phone started to ping incessantly.

She turned the phone over in her hand, looking at the screen. “He’s awake.”

Robin, where are you?

Are you okay?

I’m on the way.

Please be okay.

Their apartment door was flung open just as they reached it. Steve was standing there panting and terrified, his hair a mess, his glasses askew, his jacket and shoes thrown haphazardly over his pyjamas.

“Robbie.”

Steve slammed into her, holding her tight before immediately letting go to inspect her face and running his hands over her body, checking to see if anything was wrong.

“Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened? What do you need?”

“Steve.” Robin caught his fluttering hands in hers and squeezed, nearly crying out in relief just to have him with her again. “I’m okay. Eddie and his friends helped me.”

“Eddie-” Steve looked to the side, noticing her saviour for the first time. “You’re Eddie.”

“I’m Eddie.” Eddie gave him a short little wave and a dazzling smile that quickly dropped in shock as Steve pulled him into a crushing hug, his blush returning with full force.

“Thank you, thank you so much. I don’t know what I would’ve-” Steve took a big breath in and loosened his arms from around Eddie’s shoulders. Robin saw his eyes slowly trail over his face before very briefly flicking down to the pink-yellow-blue patch then back up. “Come inside, the two of you. Can I get you anything? Tea? Decaf coffee? A glass of water? Like, literally anything to say thank you.” He asked, ushering the two of them into the apartment.

Steve caught Robin’s eye behind Eddie’s back and mouthed ‘oh my god he’s fucking gorgeous!’

Robin snorted and thought to herself ‘sworn off men, my ass.’

[vampfucker666]

doushite kou natta is everything to me. esp the PV. im so glad we get to play this in hd and everything

[fuzybby]

May I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, and Halsin with shy gn s/o?

The boys with a shy gn!Reader is here!

You know me, there's a few notes mentioning sex in each companion, but it is mostly fluff! So in that case, MDNI

Astarion:

Probably teases you about how shy you are constantly.

Seems like the kind of guy to tease you in public, pinching you when he comes up behind you to hear you gasp. Enjoying the way your face heats up, envious of the fact your skin can still get hot.

Would also probably be very sweet about you not speaking up, I can see him as the kind of guy to stand up for you, regardless if you're shy or not. Type of man to be like “they asked for no pickles>:(“

If you get anxious when you're loud or have horrible social anxiety, he'd lay back on the teasing in front of people. Teasing in private though? Still on the table. Would love to whisper in your ear and watch you stammer about, trying to find the right words to say.

If you're still at camp, he'd try to get you to make loud noises during sex in his tent. Wants everyone to know he can make you make those noises.

If you make yourself a home with him after the Elder Brain, he'd still love to make you squirm and scream.

Gale:

I LOVE HIM

sorry, that slipped out.

Would probably be so nice about you being shy, speaking up for you when you need it. Hand on your arm or lower back to comfort you when you're speaking.

If you stammer a lot, he would be the most intense listener. Sitting and waiting and enjoying the way you get flustered. Giving you an almost teasing smile that's more genuine than teasing, but he just loves you so so much.

He probably loves to shower you in gifts. Especially if you speak up for yourself in any situation. You managed to tell someone off for being an asshole to you? He is giving you the prettiest piece of jewellery. If you don't wear jewellery, he'll buy you clothes.

Tara also probably loves that you're shy, she can talk your ear off and you can just sit and listen to her rambles. Gale loves watching you two get so close.

Not as teasing during sex as Astarion. But he does love if you make noise. He praises you the entire time, telling you how wonderful you are.

If you're not open to making noise, even during sex, he is totally fine with that. He jokes that he moans enough for the both of you (which may or may not be true).

Wyll:

The most gentlemanly boyfriend in the entire world. Yeah I said it.

Probably wouldn't tease you at all. He'd love that you're so shy and quiet. I can see him as someone who enjoys comfortable silence with each other, so make sure to grab a book or a hobby you can do with him because those will be some of your dates.

All the time, will do those little dances with each other. He knows you're shy so he'll stick to doing it in private. But, you know from his kiss animation, he will twirl you around and watch you giggle from his ministrations.

If he has his horns, I can see him trying to purposely bonk you on the head with them to watch you giggle. This man will do anything to make you laugh. He loves watching you be happy.

Also a gentleman in bed. Does anything and everything to make you feel good first. Again, would love it if you made noise during bed.

But I don't think he's purposely trying to get you to make noise. If you just don't want to, he'll still make sure you enjoy yourself.

I can see him being a little insecure if you're not as loud, wanting to make sure you felt good the entire time. Just make sure you reassure him because he's a sensitive one.

Halsin:

Halsin, Halsin, Halsin, where do I even start.

He would be soooo teasing if you were shy, not as much as Astarion though. He can see him as a mix of both the vampire and the wizard, wanting to tease you but giving you comfort with a hand on your shoulder.

I can see him absentmindedly braiding your hair (if your hair is long enough), that's another one of his ways that he comforts you. Your hair will always be littered with braids. Small or big.

Like Wyll, he enjoys the comfortable silence between the two of you. He likes to sit outside in nature and listen to the sounds of the day. The animals making noise, the creaking of branches, the wind that whistles, he loves it all. And he'd love to enjoy it all with you.

He is always so big, he can't help but stick up for you when you need it. It's like, in his gigantic nature.

He is just so big, it's hard for him to be gentle during sex. I have a feeling you'll probably end up making some noise with him no matter what. Halsin lives to please you. You will be screaming (or at least, moaning much louder than you would normally) by the end of the night with him.

He's a big ol' teddy bear. Give this man hugs at every moment of the day. If you get overwhelmed with people, hug this man. Your worries will slip away instantly.

[skylarsblue]

★Sugar Cube★

★Red Dead Redemption★ ★Fem!Reader cause I was having a fem! day, use of Y/N(sorry), fluff, a tiny bit of hurt/comfort at the end, silly drunk Arthur at the start, I don't think there's sexual tension here but I could be wrong. The autism has overtaken me and he is all I think about, the depression wave is only kept at bay by this man.★ ★The border in the story is @fairytopea 's, if you'd like me to remove it I will :3★

The world rocked back and forth, a haze over the rolling fields of grass. Arthur slumped his head down a bit, looking at trees passing by. He had to be running, he was pretty sure walking didn’t make the world move so fast. This speed was extraordinary! Since when could he run so fast? He used to be quick in his youth, but nearing forty, his knees had really aged poorly. But here he was, zipping down a dirt road with agility, wind blowing past his face. With such grace too. Then, suddenly a bump, and he felt himself tilt dramatically to the side.  Two long blinks and horse hooves hitting the ground came to his ears. He looked forward, seeing his trusty steed he’d been bonding with the past week dodging a tree to continue up the path. Arthur groaned a little and pulled himself right, then he leaned forward, weighed down by his own head. It was bumpy, but he rested his cheek on the horse’s neck, humming in a moment of peace when feeling the horse’s fur rubbed against his stubble. It was soft and warm. He always liked that about horses. 

“Heheh, nice horsey.” He slurred, patting the horse’s side. It snorted, slowing down to a prance as the trees became thicker. Arthur continued petting the horse’s fur when it occurred to him that he was saying ‘it’. “Ah you’re not some random horse. Nah nah, I named you, right? Uh…what was it…” He mumbled, looking at the light brown color of the Clydesdale horse. A dusty color. Arthur gasped, a bit choked by his own saliva. “Dusty! That’s what I named ya! Ahh, Dusty you’re the best horse this side o’ the country.” He laid against her again, listening to her snort again, which made him let out a fit of giggles. Deep, short laughs that erupted from his chest. He looked around at the trees, and despite his fuzzy brain, he was able to pick out a landmark. 

“Buh, camp. They're gonna make me go do some…stupid…tedious chore or somethin’.” The honey-brown haired man pouted. He huffed out a breath as Dusty went under a broken, spiky tree, approaching a lantern lit spot full of tents. The sun was setting. Dusty stomped past the horse ties and more toward the middle of the camp, catching the attention of some of the gang. 

“Arthur Morgan, what the hell are you doin’?!” 

Arthur winced at the shrill yell. He blinked slowly, looking in its direction, finding Miss O’Shea stood with her hands situated on her hips and a scowl ever present. He sat up slowly, hands grabbing the saddle so he wouldn’t fall, given how wobbly he was. “Heeyyy, Miss O’Sheaaa. Evenin’.” He nodded, though his head didn’t really come up afterward. The woman scoffed and tossed her hands up in exasperation, falling back to her sides with a smack sound. Lenny snickered from his place at the table. “You have fun at the saloon, Morgan?!” Javiar shouted to him. The man nodded again. The men laughed as O’Shea yelled for him to get down. He almost did until she called him a moron. 

“‘Ey! I ain’t no moron! I’m quite smart, I’ll have you know.” He pointed, only for the loss of a stability point to send him leaning forward again. Dusty brayed as he landed against her neck once more. Arthur heard some more laughs from the picnic table but he didn’t open his eyes again. “Arthur Morgan, get your sorry ass off the horse.” She said again, and Arthur replied with a discontent grunt. “‘er name is Dusty, first o’ all. And two, no. Cause you called me a moron.” He replied defiantly, ending his sentence with a small hiccup. O’Shea blinked in awe at the utter sass as Arthur flipped his head over to keep from looking at her. 

“Dutch, will you get your boy?” She motioned at the horse. Dutch chuckled around his cigar and held up his hands. “What makes you think he’ll listen to me? He’s a brat when he’s drunk.” He shrugged. 

“Who’s drunk?” A sweetened voice asked. Walking around a tent with a bucket of water settled on her hip. “Arthur’s bein’ a brat.” Miss O’Shea huffed. Y/N set the bucket down and looked toward the horse, watching the rough and steely outlaw hum a tune while petting his companion, giggling quietly to himself when Dusty stamped a hoof into the ground and huffed. She laughed quietly behind her hand, watching him hug Dusty and mutter slurred praises. “Ah, I see, he’s drunk.” She nodded. “Drunk and ornery. We need him somewhat put together by tomorrow, so he needs to sleep this off, but the moron won’t get off the damn horse!” O’Shea shouted back at him. “Dusty!” He called back, more concerned about the respect to his horse than himself. Y/N giggled and shook her head. “You’re never gonna get him to listen with all that hollerin’. The way to get a stubborn boy to listen is to sweet talk’im. Lemme try.” She patted O’Shea on the shoulder before walking up to the Clydesdale. 

“Arthur, hun, can ya look at me?” She asked. In an instant, he turned his head to look at her, and a goofy grin appeared across his face. “Heyyy, how’re you?” He asked. Y/N smiled up at him, feeling a sense of fondness bursting in her chest. She’d always been fond of Arthur, perhaps to the point of blatant favoritism. She didn’t really hide it either. While she might’ve been generally kind and helpful to the gang as a whole, it wasn’t hard to see when she gave him special treatment. When washing or fixing clothes, she’d take his without him asking, while she’d put up some resistance with the rest. When a petty argument broke out between him and someone else, she’d only really get onto the other party for saying something untoward, while Arthur’d get something half-heartedly scolding.  “Let’s try to keep the peace, m’kay? Why don’t’cha go sit down and relax?” While someone like Micha got chewed up like a dog with a bone. Though, honestly, Micha probably had it coming most of the time.

She never outright denied her general adoration for the man, though she never explained it either. Maybe it was because he’d been the one to find her, help her out of the mess she’d been in. Or maybe it was because he was so helpful to her, to everyone. Or, perhaps, she just thought he was pretty. Could’ve been all of the above, really. 

“I’m doin’ fine. You look like you could be doin’ better.” Y/N replied. He waved a hand with a light-hearted scoff. “Nah I’m fiiinne.” He went to get off the horse, dismounting with a wobble. He held his hands out in front of him to catch himself, and she readied to catch him if he went backwards instead, even if he was probably too heavy for her to carry. Thankfully, he stood upright, and pivoted with a smile. “See? Fine.” He said, as if he’d actually proven something. Y/N tilted her head and fought off some giggles, unlike the men at the table watching it all. “Sure, Arthur. How bout we get you lied down, hm?” She suggested, gently resting her hand on his arm to help keep him steady. Arthur shook his head and waved his hand dismissively again.

“Naaah nah, y’all got work to finish, I should help.” He said. Y/N sighed, her free hand coming to rest on her hip. O’Shea rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. “I told you. Ain’t got no sense when he’s drunk.” The woman complained. Y/N held up a hand, silently telling her to settle down and give her a moment. If there was one thing Arthur was, it was a real bitter life. All iron and blood-soaked palms, tarnished leather and black coffee. It was how he’d been raised, and while it wasn’t something he’d grown to dislike, something being familiar didn’t necessarily make it pleasant. Y/N had seen peeks of something softer. 

How tender his voice was when calming a horse, or how careful his lines were when he sketched a landscape, and how gentle his gaze got when left with a moment of peace. All these little moments of softness to help some part of him to stay alive, keep himself from turning into nothing but a selfish, shallow husk. But keeping it alive on his own had to be tough. Y/N had always been the caring type, even when it got her into dangerous situations. She’d grown less naive, but not less sensitive, and that need to let life flourish was something she held onto dearly. Be it a garden or a man who probably hadn’t had a hug in Lord knows how long. 

“I think it’s real nice you wanna help, but ain’t you been doin’ a lot recently?” Y/N asked. Her voice was softer, sweeter, and it caught Arthur’s attention almost immediately. “Uh, well…” He trailed off and leaned into her hand, now giving a gentle squeeze to the tense muscle of his shoulder. “All that runnin’ ‘round, pickin’ up the slack. All kinds of stuff you barely got thanked for. Don’t’cha deserve a little rest? Even just a nap?” She asked. His shoulders loosened the more she spoke, like he was being lulled to sleep with a lullaby. 

The blue eyed man hummed quietly, then began to nod slowly. “Yeah…Yeah I do a lot, don’t I? I guess a lil rest wouldn’t hurt.” He mumbled. Y/N smiled and slid her hand down to his, holding it carefully, despite the rough calluses and scars. With a cautious pull, she began to lead him, stumbling toward his tent. “I think you’re exactly right. So why don’t we get you situated for bed, hm? Maybe I’ll talk Dutch into gettin’ you some extra hours in the mornin’.” She said. With a look over her shoulder, she grinned proudly at the onlookers. That being the boys at the table, Dutch, and Miss O’Shea. All either with smiles of their own or agape mouths. She snickered before turning her attention back to Arthur, helping him duck into his tent and meander up to his cot. 

He sat down with a grunt. “There ya go, ain’t that nicer than standin’?” She asked, reaching to remove his hat from his head. Arthur gave a noncommittal noise back, blinking slowly, trying to remove the haze in his vision. He was very sleepy all of a sudden, and his limbs felt oddly heavy. After dusting some dirt from his hat and setting it down, she pushed the strands of hair that’d fallen in his face out of the way. His hair had grown a bit, starting to reach the lower part of his neck. He let out a shaky exhale when her nails dragged over his scalp, and the sound brought a sorrowful feeling to her heart. It was something so small and quick, and yet it had such an effect. She hesitated to pull her hand back, playing it off as her fixing his hair a bit more as he fought to stay awake. “How bout we get you ready for bed, hm?” Y/N whispered. He peeked up at her, eyelids heavy and barely open to gaze at her features. Even in the dark her face made him feel warm, fuzzy, much like the alcohol he’d imbibed. He gave her a slow nod, yawning as she untied the handkerchief from around his neck. He helped the best he could, using the toe of his right boot to kick off the left one, then repeated the process for the other one. “Think you can manage your belt, hun?” She asked. He looked down at the golden buckle, as if actually considering if he could manage it, before he nodded and gave an affirmative grunt. She laughed under her breath as he struggled for a moment, picking up his boots in order to move them aside, lest he trip over them in the morning. 

He managed, with a mild struggle, to get his belt undone and off. She took it from him and set it aside, being sure to remove his gun. He always kept it beside his bed or under his pillow, and she was going to honor that personal rule. “You need anything else, sweetheart?” Y/N asked, approaching him once again. She stood in front of him, close enough to touch, though his hands remained in his lap. She was dimly lit by a burning lantern in the far corner, running low on oil. His head felt heavy, but he forced his chin upward to look at her more. He opened his mouth, though words didn’t leave it. She smiled so sweetly, tucking his bangs back, watching him melt under it. 

“Poor thing, all rusty steel and splitterin’ wood, ain’t no one takin’ care of you. You gotta be exhausted.” She said, letting his chin fall into her palm, supporting the weight for him, much to his endearment. He closed his eyes as she stroked his cheek with her thumb, undeterred by the roughness of his stubble. “Ain’t ever been rich enough for sugar.” He grumbled, words still a bit garbled, tongue tied from liquor. She clicked her tongue sympathetically. He unintentionally leaned forward, his forehead coming to rest on her sternum. She shifted her positioning for him to be more comfortable, hands coming up to the back of his head and neck. He just about groaned when she lightly scratched his scalp, and oh how delighted she felt at it. Though how much he’d been deprived of this hurt her heart, the fact he was letting her make up for it felt all the nicer. She’d take bittersweet as a middle ground. 

“Arthur.” She cooed his name, getting a grunt in response. She moved her hands to help him tilt his head up to look at her, met with a sleepy gaze, black pupils overtaking the blue she’d come to favor. “Tell ya what,” She began. “Whenever you get sick of the bitter world, and you want a little break, you come tell me. You can get all the sugar ya want, ‘kay? Everyone deserves a little sweetness here and there.” She offered. He stared at her, limp in relaxation. He hummed. “Ya sure?” He asked, feeling her gently guide him off of her and down to the bed. She propped his head on the pillow, putting his hands over his torso. “Mhm, absolutely positive.” She affirmed, covering him with the quilt rolled up at the end of the bed. She gave him another scratch to his temple, seeing as he liked it so much. His eyes fluttered closed, sighing. “Mm, alrighty, I’ll keep that in mind.” He replied, words hushed. “Good, now get some rest, cowboy. You’re gonna need it.” She cooed again. He was out quickly, allowing her to admire him for a moment. He was plastered, she doubted he’d remember any of the conversation they’d just had. But she wouldn’t mind repeating it to him anyway, since she meant it wholeheartedly. Perhaps a little selfishly, she pecked his forehead before leaving his tent, not missing the unconscious smile it got from him.

He hadn’t forgotten. Not the core parts of the night, anyway. Even when he’d woken up with a blasting headache thumping behind his eyes, trying to piece together everything. He remembered the majority of her words, and he couldn’t forget the feeling of her warmth, and the delicate way she spoke. And it humiliated him for the entire morning, but even when he was visibly ashamed she was sweet. 

He’d sat up on his cot and put his head in his hands, grumbling to himself about how stupid he was. Flushed across his cheeks and up to his ears. Maybe if he asked John to help him, he could dig a hole and bury himself in it, the man owed him anyway. He called himself a fool, only to hear a giggle that forced his heart to a stop. With a wince, he glanced to the side between his fingers. Of course, there she stood, illuminated by the morning sun, holding a steaming cup of coffee. “A foolish decision doesn’t necessarily make a fool, Mr.Morgan. It’s several foolish decisions that make a pattern, then, that makes a fool.” She said, stepping into the tent. He slid his hands off his face and hesitantly took the cup she held out to him. She was trying to make him feel better, he knew that, and damn it worked.

“How’s your head feelin’, cowboy?” Y/N asked. He grumbled, rubbing his eyes. He could feel his heartbeat in the sockets, and the sunlight certainly wasn’t helping. He heard her chuckle as he sipped at the drink. It’s warmth nothing compared to hers, and shamefully, he wished to feel the heat of her palm on his face again, sober this time. “Asked Charles to grab some tea when he and Hosea had into town today, always helped me with headaches when I had it. I’ll make you a lil if it doesn’t settle soon.” She promised. He thanked her quietly, feeling her pat his shoulder. His tongue felt like metal in his mouth, weighing down the words he needed to use. He swallowed as she pivoted to leave, and he felt his chest tighten as she did.

Y/N paused when he coughed a little too poignantly. She looked over her shoulder, finding him fidgety and shy as he looked at the ground. “Yes, Arthur?” She asked, turning to look at him again. How sweet it was when he could only manage a quick glance before his cheeks flushed again. “I uh, ahem, last night…” He started, bouncing his leg slightly. She nodded and motioned for him to continue. He took in a deep breath. “You uh, you offered uhm…” He was so bad at words, it was one of his many faults. Either he spoke before he thought, or he used the wrong word and messed up the entire sentence, or he’d choke on whatever he wanted to say and they’d get sick of waiting, making him lose an opportunity. She had patience though, and let out another breathy laugh. Fond and kind, not mocking.

“I offered you sugar, yes. I said you could ask, whenever ya wanted, and I wouldn’t mind.” Y/N reiterated. He nodded and rubbed the back of his neck, staring down at the coffee in the little mug in his other hand. “So, uh, does that offer-” “It still applies when you’re sober, mister. Don’t worry.” She confirmed. Arthur swallowed. It felt like syrup, thick and encompassing, making him sluggish. He was still aware of the spiking pain in his skull, and while he knew it was his own fault, he would’ve loved relief. Even if he didn’t deserve it, to feel her nails gently pet at his head again sounded like heaven. He was a man of pride, and as mean as he could be, all rough and guarded, he still had a boyish sense of timidness when asking for something so nice.  But she offered, and he wasn’t sure when he’d get another chance. He’d been told before he needed to get better at knowing when he waited too long, and when he went too quick. Now, he hoped he was picking right. 

“I uh…this coffee’s kinda harsh.” He held up the cup a little awkwardly. Y/N blinked before her expression softened, and he felt like ice under the heat of a fire as she walked back to him slowly. “That right?” She asked. Arthur cleared his throat and nodded. “Little harsh on the headache ‘s all.” He replied quietly. She tilted her head before her hand rose up, finding its place on his temple. With a little pressure from her thumb, she rubbed small circles, and it helped ease the ache. “So you’d prefer somethin’ a little sweeter, huh?” She asked. His shoulders loosened, and like the night before, his eyelids grew heavy. He nodded slowly, sighing when she lightly scratched at his scalp.  “I got’cha.” She whispered, using both her hands to help combat the headache, even rubbing around his eyes, where it hurt the most. At this rate, he might not even need the tea she’d offered. However long she stood there, he relished all of it, the coffee growing colder by the second. When her hands finally stopped, coming to rest on his shoulders, his headache hadn’t vanished but was far more tolerable. 

“How’re you feelin’?” She asked. Arthur stared up at her sleepily, face lax, and if you’d asked her, she’d say he seemed drunk again. “Better.” He confirmed. Y/N grinned, giving the muscle of his shoulder a light squeeze. Then her name was called. She winced and looked back at him. “I gotta help fix that wagon Micha’s idiotic ass broke.” She huffed, and he snickered. “I’ll be alright. Thank ya.” He replied. Y/N couldn’t stop grinning, and she was certain her expression showed her adoration, not like she was trying to hide it. “Alrighty then. Just lemme know if ya need anythin’.” She rose her hand to his hair, mussing it up this time. He groaned and went to fix it, listening to her giggle as she left the tent. He caught a glimpse of her right before she disappeared from line of sight, sighing when she was gone. He was a little too familiar with the ache he had to follow her.

“Shit.” He sighed, raising the coffee to his lips again. This time, he winced at the taste. Maybe he wasn’t as into bitterness as he thought he was.

From that day on, he progressively got more and more needy for a shot of something full of sucrose. It was subtle most of the time, mostly to avoid all the teasing the rest of the gang would undoubtedly give. But he’d started to ask even when others were around, and oh how it helped, even on the worst day. 

On the third day since he’d arrived drunk off his ass, he’d muttered something about he and his horse missing sugarcubes on hard days. He’d been battered around by mother nature trying to get fish for that night’s dinner, laughed at by Javiar because a trout jumped out the damn river and smacked him in the face. Then Dusty caught sight of a snake in the grass on the way back, turned too quick, and had him slide off the side into the dirt, scraped up his elbow and dent the bill of his hat. 

She’d heard him and paused what she was doing, turning to him with that gaze full of sympathy. She used her foot to pull over a stool beside her, motioning with her head for him to sit. When he did, she carried on with her task, but did her best to keep her hand somewhere on his back, caressing light circles in his shoulders as she recounted how grateful she’d been for what he’d done the past week. Unashamedly inflating his ego, and oh how it helped, having him leaning on the table as he listened to her praises. 

Then a week passed and he’d gotten caught in the rain, without his horse. It’d been his fault for thinking a walk was a good idea when he knew the clouds in the distance spelled out a storm, but he’d been so sure he could’ve made it back in time. Of course, he didn’t, and he arrived back into camp soaking wet and muddied. The rain had turned to a light sprinkle but he was dripping water and scowling. He’d nearly punched Micha’s jaw off when the man took joy in his misery, until he caught sight of Y/N sewing a hole in Karen’s tights under cover. She saw his sorry state, and just like before, gave him a smile. An aura of ‘you poor thing’ that made him want to curl up in her lap. As if he wasn’t a grown man with more than a few bounties to his name. 

He’d trudged over with an expression more akin to a pout than a scowl. She looked up at him as he stood, dripping water. “You know, before the storm hit, I cleaned some of your clothes. Should be dry by now. I even had some of that scented soap left, lavender.” She said. Arthur sighed and nodded, he hadn’t said it, but she knew the ‘thank you’ was in his mind. He went off to his tent, finding the clothes she was talking about laid out and ready for him. The anger that’d built up began to dwindle as he changed into them, hanging them up along with his hat before he made his way back to her. 

She looked up from sewing and smiled. She grabbed the stack of clothes she was tasked with sewing and moved them aside, offering up the space beside her. He sat down close enough, their knees touched, sighing when she patted his leg. “Good job today.” She said. Three words, and it made him sink down, eased and peaceful. He muttered his gratitude and listened to her hum a tune, sound mixing with the sound of water hitting the earth.

By the second week, he’d grown accustomed to asking a little more blatantly. Asking if she had anything sweet after dinner, if she knew how much sugar cost at the shop, if she knew of anything candied to chase down the burn of some whiskey. Each time, she’d reply casually, but sneak in her tender touches and merciful gaze. She’d give him a once over and always knew just how much sugar to pour into his cup. On days where he only needed a little, she’d give him encouraging praise and a pat on the back, enough to keep his chin held high. On worse days, she’d overload it, allowing him to lean his head against her as she distracted him from his day with recountings of her own. Oh, and petting his hair, he always seemed to like that. 

It’d really gotten more obvious to the gang. Leading to some teasing and hushed conversations, mostly the girls asking if they were sweet on one another. Arthur had flushed bright red, though it’d been hidden by a light sunburn, and waved his hand. Talking over them to make it clear he didn’t wanna hear it. While Y/N, mysterious as always, had shrugged with a cheeky grin and sauntered off. Really, it wasn’t hard to realize why they’d ask. Tilly said she’d seen Y/N look at him like he’d helped raise the sun every morning, Mary-Beth replied with Arthur’s pension for drawing her when he thought no one was looking. A whole page spread dedicated to her, she claimed. Though, none of them were quite foolish enough to try and nab his journal to look and confirm. But, Karen did like the sight of it. As brazen as she could be, she’d always loved romance in books, and she wouldn’t lie and say that the interactions weren’t entertaining.

She slipped her theories to Dutch when she overheard he’d be sending Arthur into a town just past Valentine to check around, see if he could find anything useful. He wasn’t sure who to send with the boy, even if Arthur was pretty capable on his own. Dutch wasn’t one for match-making, and he didn’t like meddling in romantic affairs, not when there were important things to look after. But, Arthur had been good to him, and it wasn’t like Y/N hadn’t done well with all the tasks he’d given her. He couldn’t see the harm in getting them a little alone time. Maybe it’d do Arthur some good.

Thing was, getting there was fairly easy, if you ignored the run in with some men that Dutch had pissed off half-way through. Or the mini dust storm that hit them suddenly. All of which culminated in them getting into town as the sun was setting, something that pissed Arthur off immensely, since he had stuff that needed buying. Chances were the shops would be closed by now. 

“Could rob’em.” Y/N whispered as she tethered her horse outside a hotel. Arthur paused the process of rolling his sore neck to look at her, eyebrow raised. “I thought you preferred payin’ shopkeeps.” He replied. “I was kiddin’, Arthur. There are better places to rob and people more deservin’ of losin’ money.” She gently smacked his arm with a snicker. Arthur grumbled, adjusting his hat. “I’ll get the room situation handled, just see if anyone’s open.” She said. “Yes ma’am.” Arthur held up his hands, beginning to walk across the street. “And I mean it! Pay fairly!” She shouted to him whilst she made her way to the hotel door, getting a hand wave in response.

“Good evening, ma’am.” The man behind the counter greeted her. An older man with a thick handlebar mustache. “Evenin’. What’s the price of a room, sir?” She asked. “Two beds is five dollars a night, a single is two dollars.” He replied. Y/N winced and considered her options for a moment. She imagined Arthur wasn’t too picky, but she worried maybe it’d be a little uncomfortable. But, if he really did feel that way, she could simply sleep in a chair. She shook off her worries and nodded. “A single then, please.” She replied, getting a nod. She grabbed her money as he grabbed the key. “Ah, do you have baths? How much do they cost?” 

“About 25 cents, a dollar for a wash girl.” The man replied. She shook her head and slipped him forty cents. “I have a friend I’m stayin’ with. His name’s Arthur. Blue eyes, stubble, black hat, covered in dirt. Can’t miss’im.” She smiled. “If you could tell him I paid for a bath and the room, I’d appreciate it. Lord knows he’s earned it.”

The man nodded and pointed back to the bath rooms. Y/N thanked him again. She didn’t plan on staying in there long, just a quick rinse. She preferred not dragging outside into bed with her, gritty sand and dirt didn’t make for a good bed mate. She was out and set up in the room before Arthur arrived, she figured he’d found an open shop, maybe bargaining. He always said haggling was easiest when someone was tired or drunk, and it was best to strike a deal whenever possible. Just so long as you could be away fast enough before they realized how short the straw they drew was.

Her assumption was correct. Arthur managed to buy what Dutch told him too, had his bag heavier than before, weighing on his shoulder. The man bit back a wince when he raised his arm, rolling his shoulder, hoping it’d loosen the muscle. It only caused a sharp stabbing pain to pulsate from under his shoulder blade. He held his shoulder with his opposite hand and pushed into the hotel, finding the keeper about ready to leave. The man looked him over once and then gave a smile. “Arthur?” He asked, making the cowboy’s brows furrow. “Yes?” He replied suspiciously. “Young lady came in and paid for the room, and a bath. You made it just in time too, was about to close up.” The keeper explained, placing a key on the desk. Arthur picked it up and blinked. “A bath?” He asked. “She said you’d earned it. No wash girl though.” Arthur shook his head at that, mumbling a quick ‘thanks’ before making his way back.

The steam that rose from the water wafted in the air and beckoned him. He would’ve been fine washing up in a river, he’d done that plenty, since warm baths were a luxury. But it never stopped being nice when he could get one. He told himself to thank Y/N when he could, feeling the warm water help ease the tension in his back. That knot in his shoulder hadn’t left though, and relaxing almost made it worse. He hissed through his teeth but tried to set it aside, enjoy what he could. But when it came time to wash his hair, he found it hard to lift his hands that high. 

He had a high pain tolerance, he’d been shot and stabbed plenty of times, but that didn’t mean he liked pain. If he forced himself, he could’ve done it, but it felt like another stone thrown at him when he’d already been in a rock slide. One last little thing to mess with him, make his day a little worse. He grumbled to himself, rubbing at his shoulder again, cursing the air. He glanced up from the bubbles in the tub when he heard light steps down the hall, then a light knock at the door. He frowned and furrowed his brows. He didn’t pay for a wash girl, and given the time, they’d probably all gone anyway. 

“Arthur? You in there?” Y/N’s voice spoke from the other side. His scowl turned into a mix of shock and shame. “Uh, yeah.” He said, coughing away a voice crack. He sank down a little more in the shield of bubbles when the door cracked a little, just enough for her head to poke in. “You took awhile, I was worried somethin’ happened. How long you been in here?” She asked. He shrugged. “Couple minutes.” He replied. He watched her gaze narrow, as if she was struggling to see, trying to make something out. “You ain’t washed your hair yet?” Her question made him sigh and flush pink. “Got a damn crick in my back, hurts to lift my arm. I’ll be fine, just gotta bare it.” He brushed off casually.

“Wh- Gosh, no. You don’t need to go hurtin’ yourself worse than you already are.” Without a moment of hesitation, she stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. She’d gotten ready for bed, white night gown flowing around her ankles, hair undone. “I’ll wash your hair, sit up a bit.” She motioned. Arthur’s chest felt tight, like his ribs were bars and a rowdy prisoner banged against them, his heart the criminal. “I can’t ask ya to-” “You ain’t askin’, I’m offerin’, sweetheart. You’ve had a hard day, least I can do is help get all that dust out of your hair.” She cut him off, rolling back her sleeves, settling down on the stool. He swallowed. That heavy syrup sensation had returned to the back of his throat, catching words that threatened to break past the barrier of his teeth. Once she was settled behind him, she caught him staring over his shoulder, and sent him a grin. 

With a motion of her hands, he sighed, lamenting. It’d been a long time since he’d felt so…boyish, immature maybe. So embarrassed by something like this. He’d had baths in rivers in plain sight of the gang, had a few wash girls do this exact job before, all that never bothered him. Why was it because of her that he felt so shy all of a sudden? He wasn’t the shy type, he didn’t think so anyway.  Arthur picked at his nails under the water as she wetted his hair. She used two fingers under his chin, tilting his head back a bit so she didn’t get soap in his eyes. “Relax, Arthur. I ain’t waitin’ to tear your throat out.” She whispered, hushed words sent the hair on his arm standing up. He forced his muscles to loosen as best he could, though forcing didn’t do much good.

He stayed awkwardly stiff until he felt her fingers drag through his hair. Like she’d touched his brain directly, flipped a switch, he eased more into the bath with a sigh, leaning his head back into her palms. She bit back a quiet giggle, scrubbing lightly. “Hair’s gettin’ pretty long, you should let me trim it when we get back.” She said absentmindedly, being sure to drag her nails over his temples and behind his ears. She bit her bottom lip to fight off a laugh again when he let out a little groan from the back of his throat.

“Ya hear me?” She asked. “Huh? Oh uh, yeah, sure sure.” He replied, voice thick and low with tranquility. She kept her loving teases to herself, let him enjoy the moment, she certainly was. Maybe it was because she knew he appreciated it that it felt so fulfilling. Could’ve been that she just liked feeling useful, needed. Whatever the reason, she relished in it, taking her time. Just to make sure she got out all the muck.

Of course, she couldn’t milk it for that long. Eventually, she had to rinse out all the suds, ring out the excess water. He kept quiet but missed the treatment when she stood up. “Need anythin’ else, hun?” She asked, leaning into his line of sight. Like before, he looked up at her lazily, like he’d been floating in the clouds moments before. “Hm…no, I’m alright. Thank ya.” He nodded. She nodded back. Arthur looked back down at the bath, knowing he’d have to get out soon. He heard her step away to leave, glancing up again when she was at the door. “I’ll see you in a bit.” She said before leaving him alone once again. He stared at the door for a while, swearing the room got dimmer when she left, less warm too. He huffed and rubbed his face with his hands, slowly exhaling between his fingers. Cursing to himself.

When he left the bathroom, now in clothes from his bag, hair still damp, he meandered up the steps. His body felt heavy, and if it weren’t for the stabbing throb in his back, he’d be looking forward to dropping on the mattress. He opened the door to the room, met with a lamp on and the quiet humming of a familiar tone. He stepped in and shut the door, finding Y/N with a book in hand whilst sat upon a singular chair. He looked around the room and caught her eye once he was done surveying it. “One bed?” He asked. “It was cheaper. Figured you wouldn’t mind, but if you do, I’ll sleep right here.” She replied. Arthur scoffed. “I ain’t havin’ you sleep in a chair. I’ll sleep there-” “No ya won’t. You’ll take the bed, mister. I’m not negotiating.” 

Her tone was firm and she pointed a finger to get her point across all the more strongly. Arthur let his bag slip to the floor, staring at her in disbelief, before he let out a breathy laugh. “Fine. But I’m still not havin’ you sleep in the chair.” He replied, walking to the bed in order to sit down. She tossed her hands up after marking her place in the story. “Alright, ‘suppose I can agree to that.” She laughed, only for her smile to fall when he grunted in pain. “You okay?”

He looked over at her and nodded. “Fine, just my shoulder ‘s all.” He answered. She stared at him for a moment longer, watching him tug at the collar of his shirt, trying to cool himself down. It was the height of Summer, even the nights were getting humid and uncomfortable. “Hot?” She asked. “It’s this damn shirt. Only one I had clean, but it’s made for Winter. I’d take it off but,” He motioned in her direction, much to her amusement. Crinkling her nose, she snickered and shook her head. “You act like it’s some kinda curse. You can sleep shirtless, I won’t mind. It’s not like skin’s gonna kill me, Arthur.” 

“Didn’t wanna make you uncomfortable ‘s all.” He retorted. “Well I ain’t, but you certainly are. Go ‘head. It’s not problem to me, but you dyin’ of heat stroke might be.” Y/N motioned with her hand and he tapped his fingers on his knee for a moment. He muttered something before taking her advice. She did her best to remain respectful, though she caught a couple glances, nothing too distasteful. Her face fell again when he hissed about his back again, and when he tossed the shirt away, a series of pops emanated from the muscles, making her wince in his place. “You sure you’re alright?” She asked, standing up, leaving her book in the seat.

“I’ve had worse. It ain’t pleasant but I’ll live.” The man said with a light cough, rolling his neck, that too popped rather loudly. He felt her hand come up to replace his, exhaling when she applied pressure to a specific point of soreness. It hurt, but in the way a stretch in the morning did. She chewed on the inside of her cheek as she looked at his sorry state. It always made her ache, especially if it was something she couldn’t help fix. 

Arthur wasn’t a good man, she knew that. But it wasn’t like she could judge. He’d never been anything but good to her, did right by the gang as best he could too. Every day she swore he did something else that went either unnoticed or un-thanked, and that killed her. Sure, there were probably men more deserving of kindness, people who didn’t rob and shoot to survive. But she hadn’t fallen for them, hadn’t ever met a man like that of which could compare to Arthur. When God came to judge the man’s soul, she’d gladly plead his case through the bars of the pearly gates. He’d been through enough, and when her mind ran away from her into a place darker than the night, she could sense it wouldn’t be ending any time soon. That hurt to think about. To worry about an unforeseen future likely full of strife of all sorts, things she’d probably have no say in, no ability to save him from.

But she had him safe for a night. In a place with walls and locks on doors, in her sights and close enough to touch. She couldn’t fix every problem he had, but she could make this night a little easier, surely. It was the least she could do.

“You trust me?” She asked. Arthur glanced up at her, a bit confused, but he nodded. She patted his shoulder. “Gonna seem a lil awkward, but just trust me.” She motioned with her head to the mattress. “Lie on your front.” He blinked a few times rapidly, clearly more confused than he was a second prior, perhaps a bit bashful. Y/N snorted and shook her head. “Easy, cowboy. Nothin’ like that.” She reassured. Arthur tilted his head back, tucking his tongue into his cheek as he glanced her up and down. After a short staring contest, he sighed and tossed his hands up a bit, doing as he was told. 

“If this is how you plan on killin’ me, I commend your patience.” He commented, cheek set on a pillow. He heard her laugh, and it helped ease the tension in the room. He knew full well she wasn’t going to hurt him, he was just talking to fill the room with something else to focus on, given how uncomfortable it felt. Mostly because he wasn’t sure what was happening. He jumped when her weight ended up around his waist. “Easy, I told you it’d be awkward, but I need you to trust me here, sweetheart.” Her voice said, patting his arm. Arthur scoffed a little. “Pardon me for bein’ caught off guard, ma’am.” He sassed, getting a light thump to the back of his head, which he complained about. 

“Hush. And keep your arms down, won’t work if you’re puttin’ stress on’em.” Y/N answered. He let his arms fall, grumbling about her being bossy, before he felt the heel of her palm press against his shoulder blade. His mouth curled into a hurt scowl, inhaling between his teeth. She rubbed a slow circle and hushed him quietly, instructing him to breath. It hurt, but the muscle began to loosen. She could feel the knot of tension under the skin, clicking her tongue sympathetically, it had to hurt like hell. “Okay. I need you to follow my instruction, ‘kay? I want you to take a deep breath, all the way until you can’t fill your lungs no more.” She whispered. Arthur did as told, not really sure where it was going, but he wasn’t up for questioning.

“Good, now, exhale it all. Until your chest is completely empty. Go slow.” Her words helped make him sleepier, more relaxed, which she knew good and well. It was why she was whispering. As he pushed out the oxygen until he was straining to keep doing so, with all her weight, she pushed into his back with her palm. A loud pop sound echoed off the walls with the quick following of a loud groan into the pillow he laid on. 

She lessened the pressure and rubbed his shoulder again. “Did I get it?” She asked. Arthur didn’t give words, but let out an affirmative noise, face buried in the pillow. She smiled as he seemed to sink into the mattress the more she worked out the tension. She wasn’t content at just the shoulder though, so she moved over to the other side. Using her knuckles to trace around the bones. Every now and then, she’d stumble across another little knot, working them out with dutiful care. 

“You fallin’ asleep on me, Morgan?” Y/N asked after some silence, pulling at the muscle in his lower back. Once again, he simply gave a noise. She snickered when she caught a yawn he let out. When he let out an appreciative noise when she worked at his waist, she chuckled again. “See, no one realizes how much strain we put on our lower backs until you’re in a position like this.” She commented lazily. “Mhm.” He replied. Y/N couldn’t stop smiling again, her cheeks were starting to hurt. She glanced down when she felt a warm touch on her leg, finding his hand turned toward her, lightly holding her ankle. She melted as his thumb carefully caressed the bone, a silent bit of appreciation. She knew full well she couldn’t left it there, but the moment was so sweet, and not easy to come by.

He blinked slowly when she leaned over him, tapping his temple. Her weight was off of him, something that kept him from dozing off. Arthur lifted his chin, looking at her in his peripheral. “Mind flippin’ over, hun?” She asked. He yawned again, nodding slightly. He moved from his stomach to his back, too relaxed to make a cheeky comment about her sitting back down. He rubbed his eye tiredly as she picked up his opposite hand. “Ya know, if someone asked me if you were drunk right now, I’d say yes. You look like you’re gone, mister.” She teased, pressing her thumbs into his palm before dragging the pressure down his wrist. Arthur let his other hand drop down, his vision a bit hazed over. “Might be.” He mumbled, barely opening his mouth to speak. 

He smiled slightly when she laughed. He felt the pull of his tendons as she pushed his hand back, cautious to not over do it. “Sorry.” He commented unconsciously, the word slipping out without much thought. Y/N looked at his face with her brows furrowed. “What for?” She questioned, moving her hand up to his bicep. He flinched when the soreness became apparent under her touch. “My hands. Ain’t too nice for holdin’ I know.” He said. “Now why would you think that, Arthur?” She asked, squeezing the muscle that connected his neck to his shoulder. He tilted his chin out of the way as he thought of how to word his answer.

“You got dainty hands, all soft and nice. Mine…mine are all scratched up and tough. ‘s gotta feel like gravel at this point.” He explained. Y/N scoffed, taking his other hand in her own to repeat the process. “Oh shush, that ain’t true. They’re a workin’ mans hands, that’s all. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with’em.” She replied. “They ain’t kind like yours either.” Arthur retorted, making her pause for a second. She shook her head with a sigh, working out the tension in his scapulae muscle. She stopped and moved her hand to his jaw instead, prompting him to look at her. 

She looked inviting in the warm lamp light, accentuating the curve of her cheekbones and the color of her eyes. How warm she was, and he could smell the hint of soap. “Robbin’ or not, you’re a good man,  Arthur. Maybe not all the time, but you ain’t a monster either.” She said. His face showed he wasn’t buying it. He eased further when her hand dragged up, pushing his hair back. “No I ain’t.” He whispered back. Y/N clicked her tongue and grabbed his cheeks with both her hands, leaned close and eyes intense with the need to convey her point. “Arthur Morgan, look at me.” She demanded. He listened, even if it felt difficult to do.

“I don’t care bout the law’s definition, and I’m well beyond the words of the Holy Ghost. I don’t care how many men out there hope for you to hang, and I don’t care how much blood stains those hands of yours.” She stroked his cheekbone and up beside his eye, running over the lines that had formed in his skin, brought on by years of expressions. Mainly laughter and grins, things she savored every time she saw them. “The Arthur I know is a loyal man, a workin’ man, a brother and a mentor, a leader and a guard. He fights for what needs to be done and earns his keep, and then some. Your hands might be gun wielding but they’re also caring. When you draw in that journal, or when you pet your horse, pat Jack on the back like he was your own blood.” 

His eyes had widened by now and his throat felt like it was being gripped, a pressure building up and threatening to break like a damn. It was so much to take in, too much, but looking away felt like blasphemy. He might not have been a man of worship, not to God, not anymore. But to sin against her might be what damned him, and he wasn’t ready for that. He never would be. 

“You might be a bad man, but you ain’t been nothin’ but good to me. Whether you like it or not, you will always be a good man to me. And I’ll be damned if I let you go a day not knowin’ it.” Y/N finished, her voice a bit choked by now. She managed to keep her tears down, but her eyes got misty nevertheless. Arthur rolled his jaw and clenched his teeth, at loss for what words to say. She fixed his hair again and sighed. “Am I clear?” She asked. He stared, fidgety, before he sat up suddenly. She felt his arms wrap around her waist tightly, his forehead resting on her shoulder. 

Y/N took a moment to process before she relaxed, bringing her hands to him once again. Her cheek rested on his head, scratching his scalp, the other hand resting on his shoulder. “You haven’t answered me.” She commented. Arthur squeezed her for a moment. “Loud ‘nd clear, ma’am.” He replied, voice a bit hoarse but not any less genuine. She smiled and turned to peck him on the temple. “I’ll keep tellin’ you til it sticks. Mark my words, Arthur Morgan. I’ll keep that bitter man you think you are at bay.” She promised. He managed a choked up chuckle against the fabric of her nightgown. 

“I’ll hold you to that, sugar.” 

[lizardaggro]

the pulse of death, prologue 1

alrighty guys, here it is! vampire!twst au!!! please don't make fun of the title i'm sensitive about it... in any case, you'll notice from the title that this is just part one of the prologue. that's because this sucker is gonna be long af, and you're just gonna have to deal.

genre: gn!reader, will include romance, fluff, and angst down the line tw: none so far. yay! wc:3133

Twas an ordinary day, much like any other. After arriving home from your daily responsibilities, more than ready to mindlessly read fanfiction on your phone. You collapsed onto bed, looking for something to occupy the time until you were ready to fall asleep. Insomnia was something that had plagued you off and on for years; it became much less of an issue once you became an adult and were able to set your own schedule, but still. It wasn’t like it was predictable when you’d be able to embrace the night at last, either, but you managed somehow.

If asked what time it was when you were finally graced with a deep slumber, you couldn’t say. Perhaps it gradually crept up on you, so that you didn’t have the chance to notice. You didn’t remember your dreams, you never did. At some wee hour of the morning, you were awoken by who knows what, a haze still clouding your mind. You couldn’t recall if you’d brushed your teeth or not before you knocked out, so you made your way to the bathroom. Neglecting to flip the light switch due to the soft glow of the nightlight you couldn’t sleep without, you glanced at your reflection in the mirror.

Much to your surprise, instead of your own reflection, you saw a rather odd face staring back at you. It didn’t have much color to it, quite literally, but there was a bright green mist floating around it. Okay. This was fine. You must still be dreaming. It was then that the mirror-face-thing began to speak. Its voice was deep and ominous, but for some odd reason, you didn’t feel frightened. This was only a dream after all, wasn’t it?

“Oh, lovely and noble flower of evil. Magic mirror, tell me, who is the fairest of them all?” it? intoned. “O, one who has been guided by the Mirror of Darkness. Take the hand reflected in the mirror, and never, ever let go.”

As if right on cue, a ghastly hand appeared in the mirror. But it didn’t stop there, reaching beyond the mirror’s bounds and extending toward your form. You shivered as you felt its cold touch. You faintly heard the sound of horses braying in the distance, and perhaps hooves on pavement. There wasn’t much of a chance to register what that could mean, though, as your consciousness began to fade.

When you awoke again, your memories of what had happened were blurry at best. Everything was dark, and the surface you were lying on was hard. Were you going insane, or were you stood upright somehow? Wanting to better understand your predicament, you lifted your arms to feel around you. You were quickly able to determine that you were in a box of some kind. Now that certainly wasn’t ominous at all.

You didn’t have to ponder your fate for long, though, as you heard a voice from somewhere outside. “Hngh, gotta find some clothes so I can fit in,” they mumbled, as if they didn’t expect anyone to hear. It was a slightly nasally sort of voice, almost inhuman in a way. “Stupid coffins won’t open.” Wait, coffins? “Fnyaa, take that! The Great Grim’s special fire blast!” the voice shouted.

The gears in your brain began to turn, processing what that could mean. You had your answer sooner than you would’ve liked, as your little box began to become uncomfortably hot. Too hot. The lid blew off with a little ‘pop,’ and you were able to see at last.

You were in a grand room, with a medieval sort of theme to its décor, and rather dim lighting. There were floating coffins all along the walls, and you quickly surmised that you must’ve been in one as well. Then you turned your attention to the person in front of you. At least, you had assumed it was a person, but it appeared you were mistaken.

“…a cat?” you let out without quite realizing. The creature who’d freed you from that box was indeed a cat, with gray fur, and rather curiously, blue flames licking at its ears. It had a pitchfork-shaped tip for a tail, and a gray-and-white striped scrap of cloth around its neck, reminiscent of a collar.

“Hnngh, the Great Grim is not a cat!” it said. Because of course, the cat could talk. Why not, you supposed, when you had no idea how you’d gotten here and there were objects blatantly defying gravity in the background. “Now, give me your clothes!” it? demanded. You weren’t sure of the cat’s gender; the voice sounded vaguely male-inclined, but one could never be sure.

“I beg your pardon?” you asked, stunned. What use would a not-cat have for human clothes? It was plain to see they wouldn’t fit, and you didn’t think your fashion sense was that revolutionary. Though the fabric did feel a bit different than you were used to, smoother and softer, as if it were made of silk or the like.

You took the opportunity to give yourself a once-over and gasped in shock. You were most certainly not wearing what you had fallen asleep in. You donned a black hooded robe, with golden embroidery and royal purple detailing. You patted yourself down; it seemed you still had your old clothes on underneath, but your pockets were empty, no phone to be found.

“You won’t hand them over? Then I’ll just have to take them from you!” Grim, you assumed that was its name, shouted as it began chasing you, spitting fire from its mouth. Of course, you did what any individual of sound mind would do, and ran for your life. You still didn’t know how you’d ended up here, and there was no way you were going to keel over and die without finding out.

You dashed through corridor after corridor, until you found yourself in a room that resembled a library. Except, naturally, a number of books were hovering in the air, as well as the lanterns that lit the room. In awe at the silent beauty of the ambience, you momentarily forgot your life-threatening situation and gazed around.

You were interrupted soon enough, because Grim was on a mission and had no manners. “You can’t escape the Great Grim! Now hand them over!” Your eyes widened; you had no plan to save yourself in this moment, nowhere to run to. You shut your eyes tight, expecting the pain of being burned to death. But it never came.

When you opened an eye to survey the situation, you saw something rather… questionable. Grim had been bound by a whip of some sort, and was squirming against their restraints. Sure, they’d inadvertently tried to kill you, and allegedly weren’t a cat, but wasn’t this some sort of animal cruelty? Were they even an animal if they breathed fire?

“Fnyaa, what is this?! Let me go!!” Grim demanded. You weren’t expecting it, but a reply came from who knows where. “Ah, ‘tis my Lash of Love!” a voice exclaimed rather flamboyantly. Soon the speaker stepped into view. They were a rather tall individual, adorned with a mask with a beak shape on it. Their voice did indeed match their appearance, which you could only describe as some sort of obnoxiously accessorized medieval cosplay. It went with the building, you supposed.

The person then turned to you. It felt like their piercing yellow eyes saw right through you. “You there, you really must learn to keep your familiar in check- hmm? How peculiar. Pray tell, just what is a human doing here?” they inquired, which only served to confuse you further. What was a familiar? Why would you being a human be odd?

“Um, sir? I don’t want to assume anything though… Well, I’m not sure what you mean exactly,” you began hesitantly, fidgeting with your hands behind your back. “I just woke up inside a coffin in this big room, and then Grim came and blew the lid off and started demanding I give them my clothes. Was I kidnapped. Is this a cult? Where is this? I’m so confused…”

“A cult?” The individual snorted, puffing out their chest. “Certainly not. You may address me as Sir Dire Crowley, and I am the headmaster of this prestigious institution, Night Raven College. I would assume that the ride from the Ebony Carriage had addled your brain, but I do not recall allowing the admission of a human. How odd… Perhaps it was the will of the Dark Mirror?” He mused to himself. You had no idea what any of that meant, other than that this place was a school that Crowley ran.

The man stared off into space, thinking, for a while. Then he seemed to have a little ‘aha!’ moment and began speaking again. You could only listen intently, hoping to glean any sort of information that might be relevant to your situation. “Well then. Since the Dark Mirror has willed it, we have no choice but to oblige. You will remain here at Night Raven College. Only time will tell what secrets your mortal form may be hiding. Ahh, aren’t I so generous?” he preened. You’d begun to have a rather positive impression of Crowley, aside from the whole ‘lash of love’ comment, but that was crashing and burning now.

You had so many questions, but Crowley clearly had his own agenda, and you doubted he’d answer any of them. He spun dramatically on his heel and gestured toward the exit, still dragging Grim behind him. “Come along now, the entrance ceremony has already begun. We wouldn’t want to miss your debut into vampire society, now would we?” The fuck? Did he just say vampire? As in the supernatural creatures people on the internet simped for like no other? This was turning out to be quite the adventure.

You got the impression he really didn’t care what you thought though, so you just shuffled along behind him, doing your best to calm your nerves. First order of business: make sure you weren’t actually dreaming. You slapped your hands to your cheeks, shoujo-anime style, and to your surprise as much as your disappointment, it hurt. You weren’t dreaming. Probably. Second, uh, what came second? Not dying, probably. Yes, that was important.

Sooner rather than later, as much as you dragged your feet, you arrived at your destination: the room you’d initially awoken in. Only this time, the floating coffins were empty, and the room was jam-packed with people. You took a moment to consider if this was some sort of elaborate prank, but then you remembered the terror you’d felt when running from Grim. The fire they’d spat out had been very much real.

Scanning over the crowd, several hooded figures, all wearing the same robes they were, stood out to them the most. It was a varied group in every way, and you could almost swear one of them had cat ears, like those cosplay accessories some people wore. Whatever, you weren’t judging. Crowley looked weirder, in your not-so-humble opinion. They were all on an elevated platform of some sort, likely indicating a position of authority. If this was really a school and not a cult, maybe they were the student council?

“Headmaster Crowley, where were you?” the shortest one of the bunch inquired. “We had to start the ceremony without you.” Oops. That was your fault, you supposed. It wasn’t like you could help it though, and technically Grim was to blame more than anyone. You just hoped no one would be too mad.

“Ah, yes, I had to take a bit of a detour. One of the new students had managed to escape their coffin, and their familiar went on a bit of a rampage,” Crowley explained, not looking the least bit apologetic. You could feel all the eyes in the room turn to you, and you pulled your hood down lower in response. You didn’t know how much of that vampire nonsense was true, but you really didn’t care to be sussed out as a human or an outsider.

“Very well,” the diminutive person replied. “As long as we can wrap things up now.” “Yes, of course, Mr. Riddle. Now then,” he turned to you, “Step in front of the Dark Mirror and say your name.” You weren’t too sure what this ‘dark mirror’ was, but quickly figured it to be the giant mirror in the middle of the room. Who would’ve guessed? Following instructions, you took your place in front of it and stared straight ahead.

There was a face in the mirror, surrounded by an eerie mist. It seemed vaguely familiar somehow, but you couldn’t quite place it. Even more so than Mr. Crow Man, it felt as if it knew something about yourself lost even to you. You stated your name, not wanting to be the center of all this attention any longer. What that was supposed to do you didn’t know, but the face hummed, as if it were thinking about something.

“This one is suited for no dormitory,” it stated at last. Ah, so the purpose of this strange ritual was to be some sort of rip-off Sorting Hat. Go figure. But what did it mean that you were rejected? “Their soul is clear and polished, not like the rest. And they possess no magic, not a drop.”

Well no fucking duh! Of course you weren’t going to suddenly develop magical powers just because you’d been kidnapped straight out of your bed! But you could hardly say that now. If these people really did have some sort of inhuman abilities, pissing them off was the last thing you wanted to do. It was better to keep your mouth shut and play along for now.

One could hear a pin drop in the room after the mirror’s declaration. It seems no one knew how to respond. Even Crowley appeared to be stumped; you’d assumed he expected you to have more to you than meets the eye, but you were one-hundred percent certain you were just an ordinary, human, college student.

“Ahaha,” Crowley’s nervous laughter cut through the silence like a knife. “Come now, child, we’ll discuss this matter further in my office.” With that, he grabbed you by the arm and began to unceremoniously drag you out of the room. Now you knew how Grim felt.

Speaking of Grim, it appeared they were finally tired of being dragged along. With a burst of bright blue flame, they broke through their restraints and began shouting fervently. “If that human doesn’t have any magic, then make me a student instead! The Great Grim will show you just how powerful he is!” he exclaimed, spitting fire all around the room.

Everything quickly devolved into chaos after that. You weren’t there to bear witness to it though, as someone gently took you by the arm and escorted you straight out of that mess. You were grateful, sure, but also very confused. You knew it wasn’t Crowley; that man likely couldn’t care less about your safety. Was it one of the students then?

Once safely in the outside corridor, you turned to verify the identity of your rescuer. He was a personable individual, that much was true. You were pretty sure he was too old to still be in school, but then again, people could start college whenever they chose. His hair was quite fascinating all on its own. It was mostly white, but where it parted off to one side, it was black, making for quite the contrast. That couldn’t be natural. He wasn’t wearing the same robes as everyone else either. That left you utterly confused as to who you were dealing with.

The man eyed you up and down, likely judging. “Hmm. I thought I’d caught the scent of a human on campus, but I didn’t think I’d be correct. Come with me, pup, and I’ll get you all straightened out.” That was it. No introduction, no explanation, nothing. But you went with him anyway. What choice did you have? At least he didn’t yank you like Crowley had.

The mystery man led you into what appeared to be an office of sorts, though there was some sort of giant metal pot in the center of the room. Because nothing could be normal here. He motioned for you to have a seat in one of the plush armchairs opposite the spacious desk. You obliged, more than happy to give your legs a rest after all that running.

Your savior took a seat at the desk, which you assumed was his. Perhaps he was a teacher here. That would make sense. He gazed at you for a moment, likely contemplating something. You returned his stare, not wanting to let your nerves show. You were well aware of your position here, and you were not about to make yourself any more vulnerable than you already were.

Finally, after a few tense moments, he began to speak. “I believe an introduction is in order. I am Divus Crewel, professor of alchemy here at Night Raven College. Since our dear headmaster has declined to do so, I will see to it that your needs are met while you remain here,” he explained. “I’m sure you’ve noticed by now, but Crowley is utterly unreliable. As such, you should come to me whenever you have a problem, pup.”

You nodded along, shocked that someone was actually willing to help you instead of dragging you along or outright attacking you. You could get used to this. It would be good to have an ally here in this unfamiliar place. You wouldn’t completely bare your heart to the man, of course, but this was a start.

“Thank you, Professor Crewel. I was wondering if you’d be willing to answer a few questions for me, actually.” A few was a bit of an understatement, but you’d try to keep it to the essentials out of respect for his time. He gave the impression that he was a busy man.

“Go on, pup. I’m sure you have plenty of things to be curious about,” Crewel offered with a wave of his hand. You were grateful for his understanding. Crowley hadn’t exactly done a great job of explaining. That is to say, all you knew was that this was a school. “Um, first of all, what’s this about vampires?” Wow, way to get straight to the point. It had been your intention to ask more general questions about what was going to happen to you and if you could go home, but it just slipped out somehow. But as Crewel narrowed his eyes, you got a sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that curiosity may have just killed the cat.

[shelbgrey]

My MasterList of Stories

Master List part 2

~request are CLOSED

Bones

Once upon a time -I don't write for pan or Gold

Greys anatomy -NO OWEN HATE

Codes:

Smut=❤️‍🔥 Fluff=💕 Angst=💔 Funny=💖 Horror=🫀

🔬Bones💀

Dr. Lance Sweets:

Smut Alphabet❤️‍🔥

Caught in the act ❤️‍🔥

Dating Lance Sweets HC💕❤️‍🔥

Adventures in babysitting💕

You belong with me💕

Lance Sweets as a Dad headcanons💕

Dream Warriors💔🫀

Bones Halloween Special🫀💖

Code baby Part 1 💕

Let me take your pain away💕💔

Dr. Jack Hodgins:

Can't buy me love💔💕

Jack Hodgins Having a little sister💕

What's it gonna take to get you out of his lab?❤️‍🔥

Agent Seeley Booth:

Dating Seeley Booth Headcanons💕❤️‍🔥

Being Seeley Booth's Best friend HCs💕

Friends to Lovers Headcanons💕

The day we met💕

In the name of love💕

Agent James Aubrey:

Falling in love with James Aubrey after losing Lance 💔💕

Falling in love with James Aubrey after losing Lance Sweets part 2💕❤️‍🔥

Smut Alphabet❤️‍🔥

Unspoken desire❤️‍🔥

Dr. Wendell Bray:

Witchy Squintern HCs💕

Dr. Camille Saroyan:

who broke the coffee pot?💖

The Squinterns:

Adventures in babysitting💕

Being Hodgins sister and being a goth Squintern💕

Dr. Zack Addy:

I've got your back💕

Who's got him smiling like that?💕

❤️‍🩹Grey's Anatomy🩺

Dr. Derek Shephard:

Halloween special💖🫀

Injured💔

The Ballad of Jayne💔

Stuck in the middle💔💕

Stitches💕

This is Why I Don't Go To The Gym💕

Baby on the brain💕

Dating Derek after he broke up with Meredith💕

Love at first sight💕

Dr. Mark Sloan:

November Rain💔

Faithfully💔💕

We are family💕

Christmas Special💖

Dr. Owen Hunt:

Trauma 101💖

Dr. Jackson Avery:

Love Story💔💕

Dr. Alex Karev:

Heaven💔

Dr. Miranda Bailey:

Your my favorite💕

Dr. Nick Marsh:

Secrets out💕

🗡️Once upon a time🍎

August W. Booth:

Hidden secrets❤️‍🔥💕💔

Killian Jones:

Smut fic with Killan Jones❤️‍🔥

Prince James:

Hysteria💔💕

🩸Twilight🌲

Cullen family:

Fire safty💖

Going to the zoo💖

Cats in the cradle💕

Being Carlisle and Esme's daughter and having the Volturi wrap around your finger. 💖💕

Cullens:

Emmett McCarthy Cullen:

Next to me series💖💔💕❤️‍🔥

Forever now💕

Being Emmett and Rose's daughter HCs💕

Carlisle Cullen:

Being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter HC💕

Carlisle as your husband HCs💕

Jasper Whitlock Hale:

Jasper dating Bella's sister HCs💕

Edward Anthony Mason Cullen:

Dating Edward Cullen HCs💕

Crushing on Edward Cullen HCs💕

Rosalie Lillian Hale:

Being Emmett and Rose's daughter HCs💕

Denalis:

Eleazar Denali:

Glory of love series ❤️‍🔥💕💔💖

Dating Eleazar HCs❤️‍🔥💕

Garrett:

Voice of an Angel💔💕

Being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter and dating Garrett HCs💕

Wolf pack:

Seth Clearwater:

Perfect 💕

Volturi:

The Volturi:

Being Carlisle and Esme's youngest daughter and having the Volturi wrap around your finger💕

🧫Ghostbusters👻

Peter Venkman:

When unspoken rules are broken💔💕

Dr. Egon Spengler:

Hold on, I love you💔

Two Nerds falling in love headcanons💕

Ray stantz:

Dr. Jelousey❤️‍🔥

Something strange💕💔

🦁🐍Harry Potter🐦‍⬛🦡

Draco Malfoy:

Say Something💔

Dance the night away💕

Just keeping an eye out💕

The truth doesn't always hurt💔💕

George Weasley:

Welocm to Gryffindor💔💕

You belong with me - part 1💔💕

Fred Weasley:

Being a Potter twin and falling for Fred💕

Neville Longbottom:

Your Breaking My Heart💔

Weasley family:

Being adopted by the Weasleys💕

⚔️Supernatural🌘

Gabriel "the Trickster":

Gardian Angel💕

Hyper girl💕

The Winchester and the Trickster💕

Love of a lifetime💔

Dean winchester:

Dating Dean Winchester Headcanons💕❤️‍🔥

Castiel:

Being in a love triangle with Dean and Cas💕💔

🎶Elvis Presley🎸

Austin!Elvis Presley:

Love me tender💔💕

💥Marvel🦸

Scott "Cyclops" Summers:

Dating Scott Summers💕❤️‍🔥

A not so White Wedding💕

Clint "Hawkeye" Barton:

Secrets out💖

Whatever it takes💔💕

Tony "Iron man" Stark:

All of me💔💕

Bucky "winter soldier" Barnes:

Treat you better💔💕

Howard Stark:

Time In A Bottle💕

Dr. Stephen Strange:

I won't say I'm in love💔💕

Avengers:

Ohana means family💕

Six avengers and a baby💔💕

[shinjisdone]

To Soften a Warrior’s Heart (Vinland Saga; Thorfinn; Part 4)

In which you have joined Askeladd’s band…and grow closer to the Son of Thors. Though it is more difficult than anyone can could ever imagine…

[Headcanons of how it would be like to meet and crawl your way into Thorfinn’s heart (based on season 1; both platonic and romantic)]

Part 1 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 14 and how he is at that age

Part 2 is here - meeting Thorfinn at the age of 16/17 + headcanons of growing closer (slightly following s1 story)

Part 3 is here - blooming friendship with Thorfinn (slightly following s1 story)

Part 5.1 is here - sweet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 5.2 is here - other seet things Thorfinn would do for you (headcanons)

Part 6 is here - Becoming Canute's guard while Thorfinn accepts your relationship and bond

Part 7 is here - Canute grieving over Ragnar and Thorkell catching up; Thorfinn leaves you alone for revenge

Part 8 is here - Thorfinn wins against Thorkell; Questioning your bond with Thorfinn

Part 9 is here - Meeting Leif and Thorfinn dueling Askeladd; Losing while Askeladd told him the truth of his constant losses

Part 10 is here - Thorfinn and you bound by heart; Promises of Vinland broken and abandoned

[Mentions of murder, death, war, slave trade, harrasment against women and whatever awful things happened in the viking era. Only mentioned and used as examples. Mostly gender-neutral examples but female-leaning ones are there, too.]

[This part will specifically mention: Attempted murder (at you), protective Thorfinn (slightly injured, you'll be okay though), and small headcanons of the aftermath (Thorfinn imagining what would happen if you did die).]

Anyone, Everyone I will Crush Them All...

Thorfinn felt even better in the morning. You were being so considerate to him after last night, at least in a way to not make it obvious to the other bandmates.

But Askeladd wasnt like the others...man got a brain inside that skull.

You stuck by Thorfinn, often glimpsed at him to check on his well-being, talked when something was directed at the both of you.

And if that change wasn't obvious enough, then sharing the same camp, food and pain certainly was. It was interesting to watch this flower bloom.

Anything that touched ones heart can be a drive and a weakness at the same time.

It was only a matter of time. The prince was within arm's reach, just behind the smoke of the wildfire and Thorkell's army.

Thorfinn is truly perfect. Stubborn and foolish, he follows every command as long as he can duel Askeladd in return. Without any hesitation, he buckles up on his horse, lets himself be soaked in water and storm blindly into the enemie's territory all alone. What a perfect tool.

And what a sweet, sweet and perfect opportunity this is.

Askeladd stands on a higher point at the outskirts to 'get a better look at things', he claims. The man stands behind you, tall with his hands on his hips as he watches Thorfinn, with the latter glaring at him in return.

Good.

One hand slides down to the hilt of his sword before raising it. Tilting it to the side, he aimed for your neck.

Thorfinn's eyes widened while you stayed ignorant of what's to come.

The horse brayed in pain as the blonde almost snapped the rein back, pulling towards him and steering it back. Watching Thorfinn's face twist into one of rage, you turned around to see Askeladd's blade coming down for your neck.

With a scream, you stumble as you are yanked back and Askeladd withdrew his sword before the young man could harm him. Thorfinn lets go of your collar as he stands between you and the man.

"What the hell is the meaning of this?!"

More questions are thrown but Askeladd stays unnervingly calm. He clicks his tongue and waves his finger down to the massacre below. Thorfinn should better hurry up.

Seething with his nosetrills flared up and teeth gritted, he snapped his eyes between him and the battle, back to back. Unintelligable grunts leave him and he grabbed your arm (or a fistful of your collar) and hoisted you up with him on his horse - desperately quickly, rough and without explanation.

Your weapon almost slipped out of your hand, feeling too distraught to really focus and the many battle cries around you didn't help.

In fact, you were no help at all. Thorfinn trampled down men that stood in his way and dragged you off it with him as he stood defensively in front of the prince and his soldiers. One hand tilted his dagger upward so he wouldn't scrape you as he once again yanked you behind him.

He is not going to leave you alone with...that senile, old bastard!

What the hell even was that?!

Trying to kill your own bandmate - no, you weren't part of these brutes, you were just following orders for your own benefit but never did you do anything that deserves to have your head chopped off! What was that supposed to be?! How is this of any help?!

He may have hauled you right into the battlefield, in the eye of the storm, in the smoke where out of all people, Thorkell is waiting...but you are safer here.

You are safer with him.

Thank goodness that for whatever reason Thorkell the Tall did not want to fight. His reasonings made no sense nor did you want to understand a monster like him as long as you did not need to battle him...you couldnt deny your relieve despite the stressful ordeal.

The prince seemed unharmed but Thorfinn couldn't care less. He was half-heartedly listening to the retainer and Askeladd (while biting bis tongue on what the hell he did right before the battle) as he kept on glancing to you - until the glances turned to straight up holding onto your shoulders as you were the one harmed. It may have happened due to Askeladd's trick or during the battle or maybe even Thorfinn himself inadvertently hurt you. It's hard to tell after the storm passed but your injury remained.

Thorfinn WILL say something. He would have no qualms about interrupting Askeladd's deal of protecting the prince right then and there or he might say something after that first. Maybe the both of you are on the boat at the back - like you usually are - but instead of talking or joking, you're clinging to your side. It isn't fatal but the fact that it happened through such circumstances is what's getting to the blonde.

"ASKELADD!!!" A ear-piercing scream made the prince and his soldiers jump while said person barely turned around. You're sitting, laying, enduring the pain at the back of the boat as Thorfinn was hunched by your side with his hands balled into fists, teeth gritting. The older man hasn't seen him so angry in years.

"What was the point of that?!" Thorfinn would yell out while Askeladd wouldn't even reply. A mere shoulder shrug or, if he feels like it, an excuse of 'You saw that wrong' or 'My hand slipped' would be all he'd get.

This would anger him more.

No, it's just not 'anger'. The pounding fear he felt when you were just about to be beheaded rooted itself in his heart and irrational fury was born from it. The blonde is confused and scared. Nothing that the leader did made any sense and...he was endangering you. The only thing clear in his mind is that this bastard tried to kill you!

Askeladd tried to kill you! The murderer of his father tried to kill you!

There was no turning back now. Even as empty-headed as the other men are, they notice the harsh shift in the boy's behavior and attempt to calm him down - some are at least, the other (still very oblivious) ones keep asking what the hell the kid's so getting worked up for. You're still alive and it isn't fatal. Give the wound a few days rest and it'll turn into a nice scar.

It's even more troublesome when the band doesn't even know why he's so upset. Due to the smoke and their high trust in Askeladd's leadership, none would think he would ever attempt to kill one of his bandmates (hee hee, if only they knew).

'C'mon, lad, don't be like that', 'You're making a ruckus, we just got the prince', they'd say and if any of them dared to approach with open palms, Thorfinn would be quick to draw out his dagger and throw it at the closest one.

"Don't you dare go near them!"

The men grow uneasy but decide to let you two be. Askeladd hides his little smirk while the prince is wondering what he got into and if it was really worth it.

Thorfinn is too distraught, too furious and too emotional to notice his care for you but his actions made it crystal-clear to everyone. None of the danish soldiers thought that vikings would care so much for each other, especially such young ones.

Not like he can afford to ponder about that now. You're hurt and he needs to patch you up somehow - which he does, poorly so as it is evident from his own scarred body. He isn't quite good at taking care of himself, let alone someone else (he realizes he needs to learn it).

Would let none and I mean, none go near you to tend to you. Thorfinn is just decent at taking care of wounds, only enough to not die from them. Even if it were someone as honest as Björn or a danish doctor on board with the prince, he wouldn't let them. Not after that stunt from Askeladd. Thorfinn's distrust blossomed anew.

No. He will take care of you himself.

During the trip the blonde is hostile if he has to interact with anyone. His entire attention is on you even after he patched up, even if you told him you're fine.

Thorfinn can try as he may but if he were to deny his overprotectiveness of you, no one would believe him. Though, he is being too irrational at the moment that no one wants to talk to him anyway, including you.

If you are distraught yourself, the both of you are quiet but close with Thorfinn keeping his eye on you. He'd do the same if you were angry yourself.

If there is just a hint of sadness or even a tear leaking from your eye (but not falling. You swiftly wipe it off, you can't afford to cry here among vikings. Either it's only going to make you feel worse or you will lose all respect and reputation of the band), Thorfinn would absolutely be pissed. He isn't even thinking of shushing you for crying but instead his anger at Askeladd would only grow. It can't be described.

The son of Thors can't think straight. Everything was going fine until for some reason Askeladd, that bastard, that murderer, was...thinking of beheading you. Why? Why? What was the point of that?

It makes no sense. What's the point in killing someone like you? And the man just looked at him, leered at him with that damned smirk, toying with him, toying with you and now is just sitting there, having captured the prince and...!

He keeps on getting away with this.

First his father...now you.

No. No, he won't.

Thorfinn doesn't realize it. He won't ever admit it to himself because he isn't aware of it, but he doesn't want you to die. Thorfinn didn't want you to die.

Just the thought of it...which he would repress whenever he could, is just...awful. Imagining your body dismembered on the battlefield like the thousands of men he killed is an awful thought to have. That's all he knows.

The young man is hostile through and through. All of this happened in the span of a few hours and he is just expected to be over it?! To turn a blind eye because 'it didn't happen the way he thought' and that your injury isn't 'that bad. You probably were just careless'.

Oh, no. Fuck that.

The mercaneries were able to shake of Thorkell's army long enough to rest for a bit. Night came but that didn't mean they couldn't take their chances when it came to a monster like that. Let the prince rest and calm down and then keep on marching.

With you in tow Thorfinn made sure to stay far, far, far away from the other men, even preferring to sleep deep within a forest, as long as Askeladd can't spy on him with his ugly mug. He is too pissed off to really care about the other dangers lurking around.

Even if you started to feel better after the few hours, for the very first time, Thorfinn will insist on doing everything. He is going to get food, he is going to set up a fire, he is going to keep watch and you are going to rest.

Don't get it wrong though, he isn't saying it in a nice way. While he won't yell or grab you, he is going to sternly order you to stay right there and sleep. Don't even think of being of any help, the way that you are now, you won't be any, anyhow.

He's definitely going to literally look down at you and point his finger at you while saying this.

So, he does as he claimed. Food, warmth and protection are all brought and done by him as he sits close to you.

You're the only one wrapped up in a blanket as Thorfinn keeps watch and cleans his dagger.

You lay down, watching the fire crackle. Thorfinn is quiet.

If you are angry and aggravated yourself, it's best if you don't say anything or else you're going to sour Throfinn's mood more than it already is. In fact, it's better if the both of you stay quiet to digest the whole situation.

If you cry, again, do so silently. Thorfinn won't and can't make an attempt to comfort you. He doesn't know how to on one hand, but also refuses to try for he is too proud and angry to do anything.

However, that doesn't mean he won't notice or won't feel anything over your feelings right now. Having felt death almost brush you, no matter if it came from friend or foe must...feel awful. Your silent tears would let the anger inside him grow but also leave him with his heart falling to his stomach.

Nevertheless, you try to sleep. Laying on your good side, you fluttered your eyes closed, trying to ignore the cold. Though, you really couldn't complain right now. Your stomach is full, the fire was warm enough and you could rest without having to worry...

You glance back up to Thorfinn who was still cleaning his dagger. He seemed calmer than a few hours ago though you could tell that the anger was still bubbling inside of him...just not as strong.

"...Thank you, Thorfinn..." You mumble quietly and if he wasn't wrong, the blonde reckoned he heard a bit of an painful crack in your voice. He stops and looks at you.

Thinking back to the battlefield an slight cold shiver that ran down your back from the sensation of Askeladd's blade. Your face grimaced. Realization hit you that night.

"...You saved me..."

Thorfinn's eyes would widen as well.

It's true...he hadn't really thought what he was doing when charging back. Ignoring the mission.

The young man pouts slightly and doesn't know what to say, especially if you're looking at him with such big eyes. He'd look around as if he's searching for something even if he had no reason to. He simply doesnt want to look at you right now after you said that...

With a small wave of his hand, he brushes the comment, no, the statement off.

"Sleep while you still can. We'll be off before sunrise." He softly let out without sparing you a glance. You can add anything you like but Thorfinn would keep pestering you to rest so you better stop before you start annoying him.

Having no other choice you fall asleep. Thorfinn only looks back at you once he knows you're asleep and can't sense him staring at you. Something akin to a small frown on his face.

He lets a hand hover over your head, he doesn't know why. Once he cant find any proper reason, he lets it rest on the ground. Few men are noisy enough to even reach the deep woods but the blonde doesn't seem to hear them as he's staring at you.

Just as he promised, he kept watch until you all had to go.

The day went on unexpectantly alright.

You and Thorfinn would be at the end of the row, riding on horses the prince still had at his disposal. Only two were left, the other ones didn't survive Thorkell's men. So to test their remaining strength if they could pull the wagon of his highness, and with you two being the youngest and lightest ones of the mercenaries, you were deemed test subjects for the horses. (I just need you two to ride horses...)

You ride in silence, the band marching in front and behind you...but you can't help but glance at Throfinn again and again through the march. Ever since the battle, there has been something eating away at your mind and its bothering you.

Leaning closer to the blonde, you finally ask why he did all of these things. Why he'd go out of his way to do all of this for you...saving you, patching you up, protecting you, feeding you, looking out for you, sticking by you...it was all so much in such a short amount of time. You were helpless and Thorfinn acted like it was his duty to take care of you.

You just needed something. Anything as an answer.

He glanced back at you before quickly staring at the road. "What, did you want to die?" He would let out and nothing more.

You ask again, explaining yourself. It isn't like you don't believe he wouldn't do this for you or - or that you weren't willing to do this for him! It...happened so fast and perhaps you were scared but you've never seen Thorfinn this dedicated to anything else but his revenge before...

He frowns for a bit and stays quiet. He's contemplating on his own, on one hand pondering how to express his feelings and on the other, not really knowing what he feels in the first place.

"I don't want you to die." He kept on staring ahead as he let out in a whisper. Still, he said it like it was a fact.

Your eyes widen and you lean back to properly sit on your horse. Never did you think Thorfinn actively wanted you to die but you never thought you'd...hear him say that either.

Of course. You supposed things made sense now.

"...I don't want to die either." You admitted, feeling a bit low. Obviously, you didn't want to die.

You lean back to the blonde but not as much as before. Your eyes held sincerity even as you sounded a bit blue. "...And I don't want you to die either, Thorfinn".

Finally, he straight up turned to you. There was an unreadable expression on his face even as his brown eyes seemed wider than usual. For a moment something on his visage shifted and he swiftly turned his head away again.

With a low, quiet, seemingly inaudible chuckle, he scoffed; "You're strange".

You almost couldn't believe it as you leaned closer. Was there the slightest and smallest of smiles on Thorfinn's face?

A chuckle of your own escaped you. "You're strange!" Teasingly and with small laughter you let out.

Turning back to you, you were right. This was the first time you saw a genuine smile on his face even if it was faint.

And for him it was the second time he saw this glint in your eyes and warm grin on your face. The first time was when you talked about Vinland.

Aftermath thingies:

A few quick reminders before yall are gonna have to deal with the prince:

Ever since that night where he finally realized that he saved you, Thorfinn has been acting unusually soft with you.

He saved you out of his own will. Not because it will mean he'll get a favor or a duel with Askeladd, it simply meant that he didn't want you to die. There wasn't a single thought running through his head as he attacked the man who tried to harm you (at best. At worst he wanted you dead which is something Thorfinn wholeheartedly believes) even as he was being possessed by his rage. He wasn't thinking when he dragged you with him to the prince, to Thorkell nor did he plan anything through when attempting to patch you up.

He just followed his gut. What he felt.

He caved easily to the rage he felt towards Askeladd and any of the men that did not believe him or dared to mock you both for it. He gave into the belief that right now, injured like that, you were weak and an easy target so he'll take care of things for now. He let the fear muffle his senses when he saw the sword only this close to your neck.

Thorfinn doesn't know if he cares for you. And if he did, then he wouldn't be aware of it. He just doesn't want you to die.

A man as young as him is easily swayed by his emotions.

Was returning his dagger all it took for it to spiral it this way? First a few compromises that turned to favors and now selfless behavior for the other? Was it the slightest speck of respect for his late father, not for his physical prowess but his strength as a person, which he hadn't gotten in years? Was Thorfinn battling the loneliness so hard and desperately that all it took was a soft glint of your eyes and a warm smile when talking about hopes and dreams for him to seek you out?

The image of you dying on the battlefield, butchered and beaten... of the man called 'leader' betray you so cowardly...of you defeated and collected as a 'prize'...it all so angers and frightens him.

Thinking back to that battlefield and imagining how it would be like if you did die...

You would just be another body lying amongst the soldiers and waiting to be reclaimed by the earth as crows take the first bite of your damaged, rotting flesh...

Thorfinn would move on without you. He would be alone again with not a single, upstanding soul by his side. Kindness, jokes and companionship would be no more...

If you died, would his father visit him on his dreams again, telling him he lost his friend?

He cannot explain it but it feels wrong. So much so he feels a disgusting shiver run down his spine just thinking about it.

He gets blinded by his own feelings. And he doesn't even know it.

The lad is like a dog chasing after food, after all.

Theoretically he may confront Askeladd in the middle of a duel (if he gets one in the first place). Asking him what the hell he was thinking, he could have killed you. He would have! Throfinn is sure of it! (No matter what the others say).

In turn, the man just taunts him more, subtly, however. In a way that witnesses might not fully understand, aside from Björn maybe.

(In fact, Björn might be the only one aside from you and Thorfinn who knew what Askeladd was trying to do but he keeps quiet. However, that doesn't mean he approves of his actions. It actually makes him more suspicious on what Askeladd's true feelings about his mercenaries are...)

Back to the taunting, that would anger Thorfinn more than he already was and make him charge at Askeladd without thinking - which, of course, causes him to lose.

This bastard better not mock him! He knew what he saw even if he doesn't understand the intention!

Thorfinn doesnt truly understand that he is being used as a tool. He takes things on a surface level with the way he feels, smells, touches, tastes and sees. And he saw him trying to murder you.

Even so, one day he has to put his issue with that aside if it means having to be the prince's bodyguard while also wanting to get a chance for the next duel. That doesn't mean he will not ever forget waht Askealdd did however...

[hero-israel]

The "Left" has been braying about fascism for years and yet, and YET, I know none of them have even skimmed a single sentence of Ur-Fascism by Umberto Eco. If you've read it, you'll immediately start saying "Oh that's Hamas!" at basically every point he made.

Hamas has used some of the most conservative and harsh readings of Islamic theology to create a cult of tradition, they fundamentally reject modernity as an evil plague of the West, they call on Palestinians to "resist" and "struggle" and plan grandiose attacks like 10/7 with no real concrete long term tenable goals that can be gleaned- action for action's sake.

Disagreement is treason, that much is obvious. Children in preschool are taught to fear and hate Jews (fear of difference), and at the same time teach the "middle" classes that Jews are responsible for their economic hardship as if they aren't embezzling tens of millions of dollars from a global charity scam, that Jews are ever seeking to take more land and resources.

Hamas is obsessed with a Plot, that plot being every antisemitic conspiracy theory under the sun. They and their supporters believe all of them, or prime their own brains to stumble down those pipelines at a later date. My personal favorites include the Ben Gurion Canal Project, but they're all sub-plots of the Main Plot; Jews are seeking to supplant us.

Hamas frames themselves and Palestinian society as a whole as both too strong to consider humble negotiated peace, and to justify endless warfare, but also too weak to be responsible for their crimes, too pathetic for Israel to ever be justified in taking military action. It's a constant cycle of hyping themselves up as a group of badass radical warriors and then squealing "no fair" when Israel uses modern weaponry to swat them away.

I'm sure there's also contempt for the weak in Gazan society, but it doesn't immediately jump out at me from Hamas' propaganda machine (this is usually shunted onto Jews anyway, who are seen as effeminate and metropolitan, feeding into that simultaneous strength and weakness thing- Israel is weak and unworthy of life, but too powerful they're the bullies actually).

Hamas literally educates everyone to become a hero, they literally groom young boys into becoming radicalized child soldiers who do not have the frontal cortex development to resist such blatant brainwashing. It's literal child abuse. Palestinian women are pretty obviously seen as chattel who must breed the future army that will finally overwhelm Al-Yahood. There is no aspect of Gazan society that can exist for itself, it must all be part of the Struggle against Israel. And everyone, down to the tiniest baby, must play their part.

The Machismo is so blatant it should be comical. But you don't gang rape Jewish women and humiliate and torture kids if you're secure in your masculinity. I mean, there is something emasculating about being constantly beaten and seeming to have no hope for your political goals... while also constantly telling yourself that you're a proud virile warrior and you and the People have the strength of will to accomplish anything... but then these people you see as subhuman and like kind of queer if you think about it... well they utterly crush you every time. And that is all to say nothing about how Hamas relates to feminism and gay rights. And also how Eco describes the Macho Fascist as using weapons as an ersatz phallic symbol and we see so many teenage boys in Gaza being handed guns and it's like oh... this one section of the essay could take years to unpack when it comes to Hamas.

And Hamas definitely treats the people of Gaza (if not all of Palestine) as having one will and one voice, individuality is not considered. We've seen them and their spineless NGO simps refuse to acknowledge that many many Gazans criticize them, protest against them, hold them equally responsible for their current suffering as Israel. There is no One Singular Leader who claims to represent Gazans/Palestinians but that could change at any moment honestly.

And I don't see any evidence of Newspeak, but I don't know Arabic so I don't know. I do see the Western Leftist allies of Hamas engage in Newspeak like behaviors though. But that brings me to my ultimate point of this long ass ask. The Western Hamas girlies are literally, not only legitimizing a fascist organization even though they purport to hate fascism more than anything. They're starting to reproduce fascist talking points, fascist ways of thinking, in their own activism and their own lives! They're starting to think, talk, and act like fascists when it comes to Israel and Palestine, and to Jews more broadly. They're entirely unaware of this because to recognize Hamas as fascists would be to add a LOT of gray into their black and white worldview. When they appropriate the Palestinian national struggle for their own narcissistic delusions of popular revolution in the West, they're taking actual fascist propaganda produced by a fascist organization and applying it to their own lives.

tl;dr, by every metric laid out by Eco, Hamas are fascists, the people who support them and make apologetics for them are (maybe unknowingly) becoming more like fascists themselves, the next few years and decades are going to thoroughly suck but Am Yisrael Chai.

.

[germiyahu]

One thing I will never understand is the absolute denial from Zionists like you is that yall can’t seem to understand that people can learn/become informed and now *can* stand with Palestinians. “NoNe Of YoU kNeW aBoUt PaLeStINe BeFoRe 10/7!!!” Yeah, because of deliberate censorship from the Israeli lobby. This is not surprising. People now know, they know how Zionists have become the new Nazis and how they are in fact committing a genocide and ethnic cleaning against the Palestinian people. They know how they have been killing, starving, and torturing Palestinians people for the last 76+ years. And how Israhell has its hand in the killing and genocide of people around the world (Sudan, Congo, and Black people in the U.S.)

People have woken up. When people are oppressed don’t be surprised when they resist.

From the river to the sea, Palestine will be free 🇵🇸🇵🇸🇵🇸

Perfect example of the illiterate drivel that they spew. I can say "I know many people who've been like this long before October 7th" and one of them slithers into my inbox to bray about my apparent claim to the opposite effect. Such a gotcha.

And then they say the same boring shit that nobody with a brain believes anymore. Practically every popular buzzword is included. This is a lame attempt at trolling. Even answering them will in their mind prove they've won in this bizarre little interaction. But so will ignoring them.

I will not be wasting any more time "debunking" that which is so below the normal threshold of human intelligence. I have already wasted five minutes of my life responding to this. That's all you are to me. A random obnoxious little antisemite who will die an antisemite one day, having accomplished nothing for the liberation, much less improvement, of anyone.