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mothmannnnn · 3 years

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Hello sexy beautiful awesome cool swag mutuals, Gar asked me to finish a fic they wrote and we wanted to share :p Read at your own risk <3

If luck—a notion he’d only allowed himself to entertain after meeting James Kirk—really did exist, then it was only logical to assume its opposite existed as well. Bad luck.

Spock couldn’t think up the logistics of the situation he and Kirk had found themselves in: why he was injured on a too-cold planet, how they had lost their communicators, how they had run into the sort of intelligent life they weren’t supposed to interact with—why they now sat, shoulders pressed together, inside a hollow alien tree. In his current, less than stellar state, he wondered if it was statistically possible to have this much bad luck.

They were able to elude their assailants through Kirk’s resourcefulness. He had eyed the hiding place while they were running from their assailants, an area near the roots they had just been able to squeeze past and fit inside. Spock vaguely wondered if the tree had rotten out, or if a creature similar to the earth woodpecker inhabited the planet and had once called the space they now sat in its home. He wondered why the wood on this planet was a pale shade of blue, the trees even more massive than the redwoods, and how this miraculous life could happen somewhere so cold. He wondered about the probability of his survival. Spock ghosted his fingers over his bloodstained abdomen.

“Spock . . . Spock.” Kirk had his hand on his shoulder and was looking into his eyes, and Spock had to rip himself from his own mind. “You’re shaking,” He said. Spock was suddenly aware of the almost violent tremor of his own body, of the biting cold on his ears and hands and everywhere except where Kirk had his leg pressed up against his.

“I’m very cold, Captain, and I believe—” he had to stop himself, he had to stop shaking, he had to gain back some control. He took a breath—too deep—and pain blossomed in his side, time tripping over itself. It was so cold out. “I believe I may be bleeding internally, from the injuries I sustained.” he said.

Kirk was leaning over him then, eyes wide as they searched over him, one hand on Spock’s shoulder and the other hovering hesitantly over the blood stains on his uniform. “How bad is it? is there anything I can do? Are you—“ Spock grabbed Kirk’s wrist before he could flood him with more questions, before he could touch him and defile his hands with his blood. He didn’t like to see Kirk like this, anxious, and he especially didn’t like that he was the cause.

“I can do something about it but . . . I must focus all my energy on healing myself.” Spock said, finally meeting Kirks eyes. He nodded, his mask of cool command back on.

“The healing trance?” Kirk confirmed.

“Yes but I—” There was too much going on, the cold, the bleeding, the hiding (James Kirk’s thigh pressed against his, hand in his, his worry) “I can’t regulate my body temperature while in the trance, I need some external method of—” Kirk pulled his hand away from Spock’s grip and went for the hem of his own shirt. He’d had it half way up his chest before Spock was able to catch Jim’s shirt and pull it back down. “No captain, you can’t-” Spock started, taken completely off guard but beginning to catch on to what Kirk had been thinking.

“The extra clothing will keep you warm Spock, please just let me—“

“Your body heat is sufficient, Captain,” Spock insisted. Although he knew it was not logical, as Kirk’s body was better equipped to withstand the cold and therefore he would be able to spare the cotton shirt, Spock felt hesitant prioritizing his captain’s comfort below his own.

Kirk looked thoughtful for a minute, his brows furrowing and his hands absentmindedly rubbing his jawline.

Spock was getting delirious—he knew it was due to the increasing loss of blood in his body. He must begin the healing trance as promptly as possible, but a strange, illogical thought wormed itself into his mind. What will Jim do while I am gone?

If they were to be revealed by their assailants, it would be highly unlikely that Jim could fend for himself, and it would be too dangerous to pull himself out of the healing trance.

Before Spock could think of a solution, he felt warm hands around his waist, a strong chest against his, and the point of Jim Kirk’s chin on the crook of his neck.

“Captain, you’ll get blood on your uniform.”

“Tough luck,” was Jim Kirk’s eloquent reply. “We’ll have to be in close proximity for my body heat to do anything for you.”

“Well, I . . .” Spock’s words trailed off, and he was, for perhaps only the second time in his life, at a loss for words.

He found something akin to courage in his deliriousness, pulling away so that he might look Kirk in his eyes. “I do not like showcasing my . . . differences, as compared to you, Captain.” He motioned to the greenness of his blood, slowly darkening and expanding across his abdomen.

“Spock, that is perhaps the most illogical thing you’ve ever said.” Astonishingly, he heard amusement in Jim’s voice, despite their current situation. When he looked over, eyes barely able to open, he saw that his captain’s lips were pulled into a ghost of a smile. His eyebrows, however, were still furrowed with concern. “What does it matter if your ears are pointed or your blood is green? Why would it ever matter to me?” There were unspoken words within that statement, even Spock was able to identify that. But he was not quite able to extract the meaning. Why would it ever matter to me?

“I know it is not logical, but I have always envied the redness in your veins, Jim.” If Kirk had noticed the slip in formalities, he did not reveal it. “Red is the color of vitality, of passion. It is something I will never possess beyond a medicinal diagnoses. But green . . . green is the color of cowardice. Of envy.”

“You’re not speaking any sense, Mr. Spock.”

“There are many things I do not have the courage to tell you, Jim.”

If the silence that followed was indicative of disgust, Spock might have felt shame. But Kirk only lifted one gentle hand to Spock’s cheek, and wiped a tear that he had not known had fallen.

“I’ll be here when you wake up, Spock,” Kirk reassured, prompting him to fall into his healing trance. He could not hold out for much longer. “We’ll get through this, I promise, and . . . when you’re awake, maybe you’ll feel a little more courageous.”

Through their connection, both physical and emotional, Spock could feel the tug of emotions in Kirk’s chest. Stress, worry, regret and surprisingly—the last thing he felt before slipping off to unconsciousness—affection beyond platonic admiration.

He slept.

As promised, Jim was there when he awoke on the Enterprise again. He was still a little bruised, and his lip was split, but other than that, Spock could not discern any permanent physical harm.

“You’re awake,”

Humans had an interesting habit of announcing something that was not in need of announcement.

“I am,” Spock nodded, noticing that he had been relocated to a corner cot in the medical bay. “How long was I in the healing trance?”

Before Kirk could reply, a voice interrupted from the doorway. A booming, slightly southern accent that Spock recognized immediately, despite the state of his foggy memory. “A week,” Doctor McCoy said. “And what a hell of a week!”

“Hello, Doctor,” Spock greeted the newcomer.

McCoy went on as if he had not heard him, muttering, “I thought Jim might go mad and strangle me! Waiting in here like some wartime widow, what a hassle!”

He went on like this, spewing good-natured insults until he exited the room, holding Spock’s file (which he presumed was what McCoy had originally came in the room for).

Kirk looked at Spock, the tips of his ears red. This blush, which creeped up his neck, was what prompted Spock to remember the last conversation they had.

The color of vigor. Of passion. The courage that Spock had lacked, until, in a lapse of judgment, he had admitted his best-kept secret: his feelings for James Kirk.

“I’m glad you’re awake, Mr. Spock—even if Bones isn’t,” the tone of his voice was light, nothing remarkably fond, but his hand reached down and gently held Spock’s.

The action was innocent enough, Spock knew. He had seen many humans hold each other’s hands for comfort, for solace. But to himself, a Vulcan, the intimate action made his own ears glow green.

“It’s okay if you don’t have the courage right now, Spock,” Jim continued. He smiled, and Spock found himself wanting to do the same. “You were very brave on that planet.”

In a rare show of physical affection, Spock lifted Kirk’s hands to his lips, and kissed the soft palm.

Understanding the meaning of this action, Kirk in turn lifted Spock’s hand to his own mouth, pressing a warm kiss on the back of his hand.

“When you’re ready, Mr. Spock,” Kirk smiled, “I think we should take a long shore leave—somewhere warmer, preferably.”

Spock squeezed the hands still holding his, hoping that this seemingly modest reaction could begin to express all the feelings he had for Jim Kirk. That perhaps Jim might feel, through his own human senses, Spock’s unfailing devotion to him.

“Yes, Captain,” he said. “I would like that very much.”

#this was fun to write #hiii gar i hope this did you justice #oh my god if any of my non trek mutuals see this i am sooo sorry #i use so many em dashes its crazy #i live and die for em dashes #they are the best punctuation i think #anyways gar wrote the first half and i wrote the last half #and also edited a little #omg gar x moth collab af #this is mostly unedited i am sorry #eep okay now i am going to tag stuff #star trek #tos #spock #kirk #spirk #uh that's it i think #bye <3 #k/s

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suckmysupernatural · 4 years

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Sunshine - Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Word Count: 2226

Pairing: Sam x OC Sunny

Series Summary: The Winchesters meet a cheerful hunter named Sunny, who quickly captures Sam’s attention. Little do any of them know what lies in store when Sunny gets invited to join the brothers. Who can say how Sam, Dean, and Sunny will be some training days, a handful of hunts, romantic dates, a kidnapping, and one vengeful demon later.

Chapter Summary: Sam and Dean meet an upbeat hunter with incredible skills

Warnings: show-level violence, language

A/N: I’m so excited to finally be sharing this series with you guys! 2 1/2 months of writing and it is seeing the light of day. A big thank you to @emptycanvasposts for beta-ing and helping to correct my many, many grammar mistakes. Also thank you to @erin-fox-winchester for hyping me up and giving me amazing notes that made this series so much better.

A/N 2: I’m now doing a forever tag list!!! Send a message, ask, reblog, or reply and I’ll add you <3

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The sleek black Impala raced down the road towards Norfolk, Virginia. Sam and Dean had been alerted of a vampire nest in the city, so they decided to make the long drive from Lebanon. Sam was passed out in the back seat as Dean rocked out to classic rock music to stay awake. They had been on the road for a total of 20 hours, stopping once at a motel for sleep. Dean looked down at his phone, checking the directions; he nodded to himself, satisfied with the results.

Ozzy Osborne’s “Crazy Train” suddenly blared from the speakers, Dean turning up the volume to wake up his brother. This was Dean’s version of an alarm clock, and boy was it alarming. Sam jolted upright, looking for the source of the sound. After realizing it was just his brother, he brought his hands up to his eyes in an attempt to rub away the grogginess Sam felt.

“One hour out, man. You hungry?” Dean asked over his shoulder, chuckling at the brother’s reaction to the noise. Sam awkwardly climbed into the front passenger seat, his legs getting caught under him and almost causing him to tumble face-first into the dash. Dean bit back another laugh upon seeing the taller brother’s struggle, only to be met with a glare.

“Yeah, I could use some food,” Sam responded as he tried to suppress a yawn. The two brothers continued their journey in relative silence, nodding their heads along to the music. Before they knew it, they were passing a sign welcoming them to Norfolk. As soon as a diner was in their sights, Dean pulled into the parking lot. The brothers went in to eat, taking their time as they knew that the vampires wouldn’t be a problem until nighttime.

“So, I was looking for a place the nest might be. There is an abandoned house on the south side of town. All of the victims were within a ten-mile radius of it. I’m thinking this one is open and shut. We can head there tonight and take ‘em out. Thoughts?” Sam offered up his research to Dean as they settled down in a booth. Dean looked over the map that Sam had marked up with the locations where each victim went missing and was found. It all seemed to point to the old house. Nodding, Dean agreed. It was nice when they didn’t need to go searching.

They made the plan to set out for the abandoned house just before sunset, letting themselves relax as they ate their meals.

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The sun had just set as the brothers approached the house. As soon as they saw the multiple cars parked out in front, they knew they were in the right place. No one had owned the home in years, and usually squatters didn’t drive BMWs.

The two men could hear the commotion from inside as soon as they reached the porch steps. They held their machetes up, prepared for whatever was going to happen. Or at least, they thought they were ready for anything. The front door swung open, revealing a vampire attempting to run from the house. Before either brother could make a move, the monster’s head was swiped clean off. The body dropped, revealing a woman that had both brothers in shock.

She had a machete in hand, but other than that, her appearance didn’t line up with the classic hunter look. She had on bootie heels that added an extra couple inches to her height, although she was still a lot shorter than both of the brothers. Her jeans were tight and she wore a loose floral shirt that flowed as she moved. Her hair was up in a high ponytail, out of her face but still stylish. The strangest of all was the smile that grew on her face as she saw the brothers.

“Oh, hi! You guys must be hunters,” she said to them cheerily, her eyes looking down at the machetes in their hands. Dean wore a confused face, not used to cheery people, especially cheery hunters. Sam, on the other hand, was transfixed by the woman that stood before him. She was beautiful, and that smile, god that smile. It was so perfect that he was surprised that it didn’t twinkle like in cheesy cartoons.

“Um… yeah,” Dean said, realizing Sam was not going to say anything. “I thought there were like 6 or 7 vamps in this nest. The number of deaths…”

“Oh, yeah,” she nodded simply, “it was six. So, do you two have names to match those handsome faces?”

Sam opened his mouth to respond when he saw movement behind her. Both brothers were about to warn her of the threat but she gave them a quick wink before twisting. She moved fluidly, slicing perfectly through the remaining vampire’s neck.

“Make that seven. Anyways, names?” she asked again while wiping her machete off on the now-deceased vampire’s jeans. She started walking towards them; her demeanor still bright. The brothers both looked at her in shock.

“Um… I’m Dean, and this is my brother Sam. Do you mean to say that you just took out seven vamps all by yourself?”

“Well, nice to meet you, Dean, Sam, and yes I did,” she responded, offering her hand to shake. “The name’s Sunny.”

“Sunny?” Dean asked, his eyebrow raised as he shook the woman’s hand. It fit perfectly with her upbeat attitude. It was almost hard to believe that this woman was real.

“Yeah, it’s a nickname. My friends started calling me Sunshine, you know, cause I’m so positive. It didn’t take long for it to become shortened to Sunny. It’s what everyone calls me,” Sunny flashes another smile to the brothers. Sam clears his throat, finally speaking.

“So - um - Sunny, wanna go grab a drink with us?” he asked, trying not to make it sound like he was trying to pick her up. Even though that was definitely what he was trying to do. He was drawn to Sunny and didn’t want to say goodbye just yet. Dean looked over to his brother and poorly attempted to suppress a grin. It was rare to see Sam so flustered over a woman. Hell, he didn’t even know how long it had been since his brother had a date.

“Sure, sounds great! I’ll follow you guys,” she smiled. The three hunters walked back in the direction of the Impala. It wasn’t until they passed a cluster of trees that Sunny started to break off from them. Behind the foliage was a bubblegum pink car that seemed to match the woman’s personality perfectly.

“Holy shit is that -” Dean’s eyes were wide.

“A 1955 Cadillac Fleetwood? Just like the one Elvis had? Yes, it is,” Sunny smiled with pride. The car was her most valued possession and she loved to see people’s reactions to it. Turning from the brothers, she climbed in and started the engine. Dean bit back a moan at the sound, looking over to his brother.

“Marry her, Sammy. Just fucking marry her,” Dean said, his tone serious. Sam rolled his eyes as he started to walk towards the Impala. It didn’t take long for the brothers to get in and pull onto the road. This time, however, Sam couldn’t keep his eyes off of the side mirror, the pink car following not far behind them.

Soon they pulled into the bar’s parking lot. Sam had found one on his phone, giving Dean directions. It was nicer than their usual stops, not some roadside biker bar. He had a feeling that wasn’t Sunny’s scene. The Cadillac pulled up into the spot right next to the Impala, Sunny climbing out and gently closing the door. The three of them walked into the joint and were immediately met with the smell of booze. It was a familiar scent for them, the hunting life and alcohol went hand in hand. Dean made a beeline to the bar, leaving Sam behind with Sunny.

“What can I get you?” Sam asked her. She flashed him one of those heart-stopping smiles before responding.

“I’ll have an Old Fashioned,” she said. Sam nodded, leaving her to join his brother. Sunny found an empty table and sat. It didn’t take long for the brothers to return, Sam with her drink and a beer in his hands and Dean with a whiskey neat. Sam hands Sunny her glass as Dean speaks up.

“I’m surprised, didn’t take you as an Old Fashioned gal,” Dean points out. He had thought she would have gotten a sugary drink that requires a tiny umbrella.

“Just because I’m feminine doesn’t mean I can’t handle my alcohol. I am a hunter after all,” Sunny laughed, bringing the glass to her lips. She wasn’t surprised by his question as it was one that most men tried to use as a pick-up line when she went to bars alone. “And I think it's a bit obvious by now, but I’m full of surprises.” She winked, causing Sam to almost choke on his beer. Sunny was definitely something else.

The three hunters all nursed their drinks until Sam asked the question that both men had been wondering since they met her.

“Okay, so how did you do that back there? Take out that many fangs? And that one that came up from behind you?” Sam blurted out. If it had been either of the brothers, they would’ve been outnumbered and blindsided. The vampire had moved silently, not doing anything to reveal its whereabouts.

“Oh, that. I felt the air shift,” she said like the answer was obvious, taking a sip.

“Wait, what?” Sam asked as both brothers looked at her, completely confused.

“So you know how we always have to be aware of our surroundings? Always on high alert? Well, I’ve managed to hone that in, taking the nerves out of the equation. I am fully aware of every part of my body, every sense. Sure, the vamp might’ve been completely silent, but as he moved near me the air was softly pushed in my direction. I could feel it on the back of my neck, so I knew he was right behind me.” Both brothers absorbed the information, surprised by the woman that sat across from them.

“So, you’re just a human?” Dean asked bluntly. It was hard for him to believe she didn’t have secret powers. The question made her throw her head back in laughter.

“Yes, Dean, I am 100% human. I just don’t do things like most hunters,” she shrugged. Sam was in awe of her. She had such calming energy to her, he never wanted to leave her presence.

“Can you teach it? Your technique?” Sam asked, leaning forward slightly.

“Honestly? I’ve never tried it. I rarely meet other hunters and most of them are men who assume I’m afraid to chip a nail. If they want to underestimate me, that’s fine. I just let them take over and move on. There are plenty of monsters out there,” she said. It was surprising to hear, as she was obviously a fantastic hunter. Dean and Sam had barely seen her in action but they knew it to be true. To think that others thought she was just a pretty face was frustrating to Sam.

Sam looked over to Dean and Sunny quickly noticed that they seemed to be having a conversation with just their eyes. They were brothers, so this wasn’t surprising. It was something she used to do with her sister. It only took a couple of seconds before they both looked back at her.

“Why don’t you come back with Dean and me to our bunker? We would like to learn from you if that’s alright. You’d have a room to stay in and everything. That is if you want.” Sam was trying to not to keep his hopes up. There was no reason for this woman to follow two strangers and agree to train them. Looking into her eyes, he knew that he could get lost in them. She took a minute to think it over, taking a sip of her drink.

“You know what? Why not? It’s not every day you get such an interesting offer. I can’t even remember the last time I worked with anyone,” Sunny accepted.

“Wait, you are just going to come with two guys you barely know?” Dean asked in disbelief.

“Well, I’m pretty sure you both know that I could kick your asses in a heartbeat,” she stated simply. Both brothers exchanged a look. She was probably right. This decision seemed like the right one for Sunny. She usually didn’t trust male hunters, expecting them to be sexist assholes. These two were different, though. Dean seemed impressed by her skills, shocked only that she was human. He didn’t seem to care that she was a woman.

Sam was something else entirely. She could tell that he genuinely was curious about how she worked. There was something about him that made her trust him. Maybe it was the kindness in his eyes or the way that he spoke to her like she had some sort of wisdom to impart. Whatever it may be, she had a feeling that the two of them were going to get along well.

It also didn’t hurt that he was quite handsome.

Chapter 2 ->

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avionvadion · 4 years

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Forest Deep: a fanfic mixing Secret of the Cursed Mask and the actual Inuyasha anime itself. https://archiveofourown.org/works/24115702/chapters/58056064

Summary: Naraku had one goal- to destroy Inuyasha. Now with his new companion he has an idea how to make that happen. Brought to the Feudal Era by an unwanted Summoning, Irene's in search of her older sister and the one who brought them there. With the help of her new friends she might just find them, but it's hard getting through battles- nonetheless the day- with her lung problems. Why is this Naraku so cruel? What does he gain from hurting people? Who is his new friend- and what's underneath that mask she wears? Irene doesn't know. But she'll find out- one way or another. She just wished she had her sister beside her as she did it.

The first drawing is basically the story cover. I drew it back before Irene’s hair had a consistency and I had a better grasp of the art style XD The second image is from the end of chapter 20 and the last one is for chapter 15.

Story:

"I-It's…" Oh gods. "It's a saying where I'm from. Just- Just ignore it. I speak nonsense. Um. Look. You don't want to stay here, right? I don't want to stay here either. I have a sister I gotta make sure ain't dead, some friends to get back- granted… they probably don't want anything to do with me anymore, and an evil half-demon to stop, so~!" I huffed and stood, brushing some dirt off my pale blue jeans. I walked over, holding a shaky hand out to her with a grin. "You can come with or you can stay here and go crazy! Your choice."

Her eyebrows knit together. "For what reason did you desire the Magatama fruit? Most here are… filled with greed. They want its power for themselves. I, too, was selfish and… it brought me here."

"It…" I hesitated. Memories of the villagers falling came to mind. "I… I need the fruit to break a barrier. If the barrier doesn't break then… more people are gonna die. And… I don't want to see that happen."

"That's sounds awful…" Shizuno said, bringing a hand up to her mouth. "A-Are you certain that it's not another lie someone told? You could have fallen into a trap."

"I mean, probably?" I made a face, moving my head to the side and shaking it, shrugging my shoulders. "Buuut I have no reason to distrust him, you know? I-It's weird. Like, yeah he can be pretty shady when he wants to be, but he's helped me out this far and it's because of him I can talk to Shikigami spirits and heal people. So! I think he's nice. He did mention that this would be really dangerous and I was a firm believer I wouldn't survive. Was that a lie? Nope. Here we are! In a magical space surrounded by a bunch of crazy people."

"You are…" She frowned. "...strange. You speak of dire circumstances, yet you smile so brightly. Why do you behave so casually?"

"I just do." I was still so tired. "Life just sucks. That's how it works. No use mopin' about."

Unless of course several people had died. Damn it. I can still hear their screams, the children calling out for their parents as they ran for their lives. The blood splattering onto the ground… and staining Kohaku's kusarigama.

"Anyway! You never answered my question. You comin' with me?" I stretched out my fingers and wiggled them at her, staring at her expectantly. "You know you waaaant tooooo~! Far over the misty mountains cold~ to dungeons deep and caverns old!" My voice cracked and I coughed, hacking into my sleeve. My voice really could not go low. It was so distressing. The woman gave me such a strange look, but she reached out and took my hand. I felt so lightheaded. "Oh? Yay!"

She shook her head at me, folding her hands close to her chest. "We could be trapped here in eternal suffering," Shizuno told me, "yet you sing? Why?"

"Because if we're gonna be suffering eternally," I declared, holding an index finger up wisely, "we might as well have fun with it. Sadly I don't remember all the lyrics, but! It's a good song." I approached the mountain wall, staring up and squinting my eyes as I tried to gauge how far up we would have to climb before we reached the next ledge. My hands were all scraped up. "Okay… calm down. We can do this. You up for the climb?"

"Y-Yes, I suppose… what about you?" She stared at me, frowning. "Your skin is quite pale…"

"I'll be fine." I had to be. "My… My friends are waiting for me."

If they even still thought of me as one.

"And… your sister?"

I didn't answer. I wasn't even sure she was alive. "If I don't get that Magatama fruit… more people are gonna die. I… I don't want her to be one of them." I looked back at Shizuno, forcing another closed-eye grin, ignoring the lump forming in my throat. I had to be strong- for her. She was in pain as well. Her entire village was destroyed. "So we gotta keep going. Up and at 'em!"

I cracked my knuckles and reached up, grabbing onto a root sticking out from one of the rocks. This part of the wall was covered with vines, but there was no telling if they could all hold. Shizuno followed behind me uncertainly, grabbing onto a rock and climbing. "Th-This is very dangerous!"

Well, obviously. But I was convinced that we couldn't quite… die here? I've seen so many people wandering around and not one skeleton. At least there weren't any demons nearby in this spirit realm that could eat us. I don't think I'd taste very good. Ick. My mind flashed back to the mansion and I cringed, temporarily halting in my climb. Don't freak out. I had to stay calm. This is fine.

I'm fine. Always. Always fine.

I may be slowly breaking apart, but I'm fine. It's how I am.

This is just life.

It's my fault those villagers are dead, so I have to avenge them. Don't I?

Suddenly the vines I was climbing broke and I let out a small shriek, falling back towards the ledge below. The wind around me picked up pace and suddenly my descent slowed, causing me to blink. Then once I was close enough to the ground it stopped and I hit my head, crashing hard onto my back. "O-Ow! Frick!" I cringed and curled onto my side, bringing my hands up to the back of my aching skull. It was being put through so much abuse today. "Dude, that hurt!"

"A-Are you alright!?" Shizuno called down. She was at least thirty feet above me, clinging tight to some vines. "The wind just- how on earth-!?"

"Spirits." I hissed, wincing at the bump that was definitely going to be there for a while. The wind helped enough for me not to die, but wasn't completely forgiving to leave me free of injury. "Eugh…" That seriously hurt, but at least it wasn't fatal. This proved that one of my theories were right. Kazumi would have us wander forever in insanity, but she would not have us kill ourselves. "Frick."

I stumbled, wobbling over to the wall and leaning against it for a moment until my vision cleared. The world was trying to spin on me.

"Need to… keep going." I wheezed. This air spirit guardian person was such a sadist. "Have to… save them…"

My fingers gripped weakly at the roots. I wouldn't be able to climb in this state.

"Naraku… must be… stopped…"

I'm so dizzy. My forehead pressed against the rocky mountain side, eyes closing as I waited to catch my breath. That scared the crap out of me- falling like that. I hated it. After a few long minutes I grabbed at the vines again, fingers feeling numb and tingly, and I kicked at the wall with my bare feet. Being weak is one thing, but being stubborn was another. I was determined.

"I will… defeat him…" I wheezed, reaching up and grasping tiredly at a rock jutting out. It crumbled and I had to go for one higher up, stretching my arm painfully. "Barrier… it will break…"

Naraku sent Kohaku and Kanna after me, and why? Because Anastasia wanted my soul for some god awful reason that still wasn't explained. He made them attack the villagers that were helping me, and if Kagome didn't crack the mirror and force the souls to be freed so many more would already be dead. They tried to help me and Naraku forced Kohaku to kill them because of that. He was awful.

He was more of a madman than anyone else in this place.

The air around me seemed to grow gentler, my body becoming lighter and moving a bit faster. It was almost as if it was giving me a boost, but I knew that couldn't be the case. It was so aggressive earlier. After what surely must have been an hour I reached the ledge I fell from, reuniting with Shizuno who watched as I fell onto my front, eyes closed and breath heavy. "You are not the most healthy person, are you?" She asked.

"I wonder what… gave you that idea?" I wheezed, the sarcasm dripping off my tongue. "I told you… sickly human… didn't I?"

She gave a small smile, almost amused by my weird ways. "You did. Will you be able to make it to the top? There is still quite a ways to go."

"Yeah, just… need to… rest a bit first. Is that okay… with you?"

Shizuno nodded. "Yes… we have all of eternity, after all. Time does not seem to pass in this place. I have seen many arrive here, yet… they never aged. It is rather concerning, but there is nothing we can do. I fear many years have already passed since I was first brought here."

Wait, what? Oh no. My eyes widened and I sat up, looking at her in alarm and ignoring the rapid pounding of my heart. "N-No way… no, no, no! We… We have to hurry! I-I can't-!" I can't be trapped here forever. I have to get that fruit as fast as possible. If Maria was still alive then I can't be left behind. "The mountain! W-We have to… to climb…!"

I stumbled over, dazed and desperate, grabbing at the roots and struggling to climb. Shizuno dashed over and caught me when I fell, startled when she felt the heat radiating from my body. "I-Irene! You are feverish!"

"M'fine." I mumbled. "Have to get… to Sango…"

She, Miroku, Shippō, and Kirara are all up there dealing with the air spirit alone.

"Don't wanna see 'em hurt…"

I'm so sleepy. I want to take a nap.

"Gotta beat Naraku… and his dumb barrier thing…"

"Rest first. We have time." She said softly, voice so soothing. Shizuno carefully moved me away from the wall, keeping her arms around my waist, setting me down on the ground beside her. My head fell against her chest and my eyes closed, giving in to the comfort she gave. A hug felt so nice right now… yet her body was so cold. Her fingers ran gently along my hair, fiddling with the short strands. "You are fighting so strongly right now, are you not? It must be hard…"

"S'not… just… hurts."

"Why do you want to fight this Naraku so bad?"

"He hurts… people." I told her quietly, finding myself being lulled to sleep by her gentle touch. "They… helped me a-and he… killed them."

"He did?"

I nodded, making a small noise of confirmation. "He had… Sango's younger brother… attack. H-He's controlled by him, so he can't… fight back. She's always crying when she… has to face him. I don't like it. She's so much better… when she's happy…"

"I see. So Naraku is the one to blame."

Yes. He made Kohaku hurt them. It was all that evil half-demon's fault that the villagers are dead. "Naraku… killed them…"

"If that is so… then you should be able to climb the mountain now."

"...What?" My eyes slowly opened and I blinked, turning my head to look tiredly at Shizuno.

Her features seemed to change as the wind around us blew stronger, her long black hair shifting into something shorter and more white in color. I yanked myself off of her lap, watching as her colorful kimono become a pale blue, a white cloth draped over her shoulders and wrapped around her arms. As I stumbled into an upright stance, standing and backing away slowly, her dark eyes became an icy blue, lips dark and almost purple in color. I hadn't seen her entire appearance before, but I was certain now as to why Shizuno looked so familiar.

"K-Kazumi?"

…

"Where did she go!?" Sango demanded, whirling around to try and locate where the air spirit disappeared to. They were just talking when the mist became stronger, the entire area around them being covered in fog. The demon slayer couldn't see five feet in front of her. "Miroku! Shippō!"

"Here!" The fox demon informed, about ten feet back.

"I'm over here!" The monk shouted somewhere from her left side, sweeping at the area around him with his staff. "I'd use my Wind Tunnel to suck in this mess, but I might anger the spirits further if I did and cost Irene her life! Sango, what should we do!?"

"I-I don't know!" For once the demon slayer was at a loss. There was no enemy to fight, no goddess to appease. Only a spirit set on challenging their friend to a test of truth. "I… never realized she felt so guilty for what had happened…" Sango said after a moment, looking down at the hiraikotsu in her hand, closing her eyes with a pained expression. "I was only focused on myself. Miroku, I…" She rested a hand over her face, ashamed. "I'm a terrible friend."

"No, Sango, don't blame yourself." The monk shook his head. "I, too, did not notice. I was believing us to finally be able to close the gap and become proper allies, and yet…"

"She's always blaming herself!" Shippō stated, frowning deeply. He appeared greatly bothered. "Irene has such a guilt-complex for some reason! I don't get it! She's always apologizing for every little thing, no matter how small it is! Inuyasha was always yelling at her for it!"

"I-I thought she was just shy." Sango admitted. "But… I guess there's more to it. What do you think, Miroku?"

"Anything could have caused it." He informed them, something unsettling forming in his stomach. The monk always had been unable to refuse helping a young woman in need and the one in trouble now was a friend. Yet how could they protect her if they didn't even know what was wrong? If they couldn't even reach her where she was now? Why did Irene feel the need to place the blame on herself? "I'm afraid we'll just have to ask and pray she will tell us when she returns."

"I hope so…"

…

"H-How did you-!?" I pointed at her, dumbfounded, then gestured to where the brunette used to be. "Sh-She was just- hah? Gah! Shapeshifter!"

I took several more steps back. The woman's expression became blank once more, resembling more of the air spirit I had met earlier. "She was nothing more than an illusion. I created her as a guide, just as I have done time-and-again for those who come up this mountain. A rare few have ever been able to accept their truth and continue forth up the mountain. They were always too trapped in their greed, their selfishness… and would never think twice about abandoning someone else if it meant reaching their own goal."

What is she saying? I don't understand. My head hurts so much from this; I was still so dazed.

Kazumi closed her eyes, opening them only when her purple lips tilted upwards into a smile. "You have passed my test, Irene. You have accepted that Naraku was the one to blame for the villagers deaths. The children did not die because of you. I have seen into your mind… I know what you saw. I know how you felt. With this test I was able to attune your heart and I have come to the decision that you are indeed worthy… of a Magatama fruit."

"But… I literally didn't do anything?" I don't get it. I'm too dizzy for all this. "I just climbed a mountain…"

The air spirit looked amused by this and went on to explain. "Though they scared you, you tried to approach those wandering souls and save them. When you saw the apparition I created… you tried to give her the courage to go on. Though… unorthodox in the way it was done… you remained strong for her for as long as you could. But you are only human- and one who is prone to illness cannot keep on for long." She glanced up at the mountain, icy eyes following the path up. "The wind will help you on your climb up the rest of the mountain. You need not fear falling; now that your mind is clear of guilt… the roots and rocks along the cliff will not break."

I'm still so confused, but alright. "Um, thank you…?"

"Do not thank me just yet." She warned. "If you so much as waver in your thoughts you will fall once more down to the bottom, and your soul will wander here for all eternity like the rest." Kazumi waved her arm and then she was gone, replaced by nothing but more fog.

My eyebrows raised and I shook my head incredulously, unable to believe the audacity some spirits could have. Like, seriously? Jeez. Crazy lady. She was so much nicer as Shizuno. At least she was giving me some advice… kind of. Was this all because I blamed myself for what happened with Kohaku?

That's what I'm getting from that conversation anyway. Ugh, I have such a migraine. I want to go home.

I need another hug.

I walked over and grabbed at the roots, hands shaking. They didn't feel as weak and numb as before, but they were bleeding. I had scraped them up quite badly during my climb. That strange feeling appeared again as I tried to move up the mountain, like the wind was giving me a boost. I supposed it actually was doing that, as it was helping me move a lot faster than before. I reached the next ledge in record time.

I tried not to think too much, focusing on the task at hand, determined not to fall below.

My heart wanted to waver, to believe that the children's deaths were my fault, that everyone who died should have blamed me, but… Shizuno's words stuck. They may have been protecting me, but it was by Naraku ordering Kohaku that they were killed. I had no control over the boy's actions. It was not my fault.

It was his.

The fog slowly cleared away the closer I got to the top and the people wandering around had vanished. I huffed and trembled, feet and hands scratched up and blistered, legs and arms sore. If not for the wind pushing me up- as if trying to say hurry up, stupid human like an irritable spirit- I would have collapsed long ago. I dragged myself up to the top ledge where I had been thrown off when I first met the guardian spirit Kazumi, struggling to push myself forward, and wound up clawing at the ground.

My poor fingertips were all bloody.

"I-Irene!?" I recognized that voice. I fell on the ground and rolled onto my back, wheezing and letting out a few coughs. I was so exhausted. "Oh, thank god! Miroku, Shippō, look!"

"Irene is back!"

"She passed the test!"

I could see the group dash over to me, Sango quickly kneeling by my side and helping me sit up. I began to tear up at the sight of her. Wasn't she mad at me? "Irene, you're burning up again! How badly did you stress yourself out!?" She asked, voice almost going into a sisterly scolding tone before relief crossed her face. "I'm so glad you're back…"

She surprised me by leaning down, wrapping her arms around me tightly."I should have paid more attention to your feelings. I'm so sorry."

"I-It's okay." I choked out, awkwardly hugging her with my arms so not to get blood on her armor. I'm such an idiot. They didn't hate me after all. "I-I'm fine. You're the one who was upset, so…"

"But so were you!" She pulled away, gripping my shoulders tightly with her hands. "All this time you've been festering hate and guilt inside of you- and for yourself no less! Ever since I've met you you've been apologizing left-and-right for things you had no control over! Irene, it's okay to be selfish! Not everything is your fault!"

I couldn't speak, too stunned by what was happening. This day was so dizzying. "I-I just… want to help." I finally got out, stuttering on my words. Her eyes were so intense; it felt like they were boring into my soul. "I-I can't do anything useful, so…"

"What do you mean by that?" Miroku demanded, stepping up. Kazumi was still nowhere in sight. "You've helped us countless times; we've told you before. Just who told you that you were useless? That made you believe you could guilt yourself for everything?"

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incoherentbabblings · 4 years

Text

An Endless Hope (2/9)

After a horrendous blizzard falls over Gotham, Tim undergoes a sharp change in character before disappearing. Upon discovering what has become of him, Stephanie sets off on a solo journey in a magic realm to bring him home, meeting some faces which seems awfully familiar along the way.

Archive Of Our Own Link Click Click!

“Our tires have gone. Cracked and popped.” Red Robin reported, switching the interior car lights on, as Stephanie pulled out a small laptop tablet, switching to checking satellite views of the city. Tim peered at his dashboard, noting, “GPS says we’re down by Stagg Enterprises and the Trigate bridge but honestly… it’s reached whiteout. We can get out and –”

“No.” Batman interrupted. “Stay put. If your tires have frozen up it’s too cold for our suits for any trek across the city. I’m not far in my car. Signal, Robin, what did you find?”

“Mr. Freeze is a dead end.” Duke said over the commlink. “He made the valid point of this not doing much for his research. He was worried about the power outage.”

Red Robin and Batgirl, sat in Tim’s redbird car, watched the snow fly around them, heating blasting out hot air to keep the car and them from freezing. Tim peered out the windscreen, whiteout leaving them blind to the world. They could leave, but it was approaching minus thirty. Their regular suits were good… but not that good. For the moment, they were stranded, waiting for Bruce and his tank of a Batmobile to come to the rescue.

“It’s bizarre.” Batgirl said, scrolling through data. “Weather doesn’t work like this. The storm is just over Gotham. That’s not…that’s not physically possible. Blizzards are usually hundreds of miles wide. Not thirty and constricted to a bay. It came out of nowhere. There’s no way the air could grow cold that fast to freeze all that water naturally. And the wind is at eighty miles per hour. Normally it’s around forty.”

“The Flash has a weather themed villain.” Robin supplied.

“I checked.” Cassandra’s quiet voice, barely audible over the storm she was standing in, came over the speakers. The screaming wind cut off when she got inside, the door of wherever she was slamming shut. “He’s in Iron Heights. It’s not him.”

Stephanie continued to look through local news, in and outside of the city, desperate for someone over social media to have spotted something manmade about the phenomena. Tim jolted next to her violently, hands flailing over the steering wheel.

“Someone walk over your grave?”

“What?”

Stephanie put down the tablet and leaned over, staring at the white surrounding them. “Or did you see something?”

“You’d think I was crazy.”

“I’ve learned not to doubt gut instincts, Red Robin. They’re there for a reason. Especially yours.” Unable to spot anything but white, she looked back at him. Like her, his cowl was down, his nose red, skin very white. He looked frightened and instantly Stephanie became alarmed. “What is it? Did you see something?”

She whirled back around, hair falling around her shoulders and back. It really was too long at this point, but Tim reached up and tangled his fingers into it. Something to hold onto. He tried not to tug on her too hard.

“I just think someone’s watching us... me.”

“What? Who? Bad guy?”

“I think I’m seeing things.”

Stephanie hummed, slowly retreating into her seat.

“I’ll bop ‘em if they hurt you.”

Colour returned to Tim’s cheeks, and he smiled. “I know.”

The sound of roaring engines became audible over the car’s heating, and a little too close for comfort, the black Batmobile emerged, parking directly in front.

“Get in you two. I can’t drag the car with your tires gone. Lock it down, Red Robin. When the storm lessens, we’ll retrieve it.”

“Go ahead Batgirl. Locking it down will take a second.”

“’Kay.” She kicked her way out, fighting against the wind. Her cape, weighted so it wouldn’t fly up and around her face in such conditions, billowed out behind her, but her hair flew up and around her face. It made her stumble a little ungraciously as she felt her way around the car, opening the door enough to slide in the back.

“Jesus.” She breathed. Batman was looking over his shoulder, checking she was unharmed.

“I told you to cut your hair.”

“Yeah, yeah. I braided it but the wind…”

Bruce grunted. “We can’t do anything. We give it two more hours to show signs of passing. If not –”

“Call in the League?”

Batman’s face indicated he was not happy with the idea, but it was still the best solution. They were trained for street level crime, not climate change.

Tim tumbled in a moment later, shaking from the cold, slapping the ice and snow that had collected on his costume. Reaching across, Stephanie took off her gloves and placed her warm fingers on his cheeks, hissing at the cold. Tim sighed and closed his eyes, shivering.

“Where’s the others?” Stephanie asked, watching Tim’s shudders lessen as he warmed up again.

Bruce set off, heading back to Bristol.

“In the city tunnels. A lot of people are taking shelter there. They’ll be heading back now. We just have to wait it out for now.”

Stephanie did not miss the loathing in his tone at such an inaction.

“We can’t do anything for the time being.” Tim stated. “But when it passes –”

“If it passes.” Batman grumbled.

“–Then we’ll work overtime to help with recovery.”

Stephanie nodded emphatically in agreement.

“It’s not good enough.” Bruce muttered.

Stephanie went to remove her hands from Tim but to her shock he actually reached up and snatched her wrists, pulling her back. Damn, he really was cold. Usually he wasn’t that grabby.

“Sometimes ‘not good enough’ is all we can do.” Tim bit back.

Holding her breath, noting the tension in the car rising with the steady hot air being blasted, Stephanie pinched Tim’s nose, desperate to break the potential argument. Tim looked at her, a little outraged. Stephanie ignored him, speaking to Batman,

“Whoever did this – if it is a who – we’ll hold them to account.”

It really wasn’t good enough, and Bruce did not respond. The drive back was odd, Bruce relying on technology to navigate through the city. As soon as they cleared the bridge however, visibility resumed. It was a blizzard – a bad one – but nothing compared to what seemed to be only growing in intensity over the three main islands of Gotham.

When they arrived back at the cave, Stephanie asked Alfred to take a look at Tim, worried about his body temperature. She snuggled up to him, arms wrapped around his waist, cheek to cheek, as she tried to erase his shivering.

“Honey, why are you so cold? We weren’t exposed long.”

“Just feel cold. Like in my bones.”

She rubbed his back, trying to friction up some heat.

“Cuddle away then.”

“You’re like a furnace. It’s nice.” He sighed.

Alfred came over, took one look at Tim and shrugged off any major concern.

“Just a chill.” He confirmed after taking Tim’s temperature. “Take a warm – not hot – shower.”

“Sure Alfred.”

He went to walk off, hand around Stephanie’s, but she dug her feet in.

“It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m gonna wait for the others to come back safe.”

Tim blinked, then looked down at his grip. She wasn’t showing it, but with a dropping sensation in his stomach, he realised how tightly he was squeezing her. Mechanically, finger by finger, he let go.

“Yeah. Sorry. I’ll be a little bit.”

She smiled, worry leaking through, and he dashed off. She flexed her wrist, hissing a little at its stiffness. Tim was just spooked by the weather, she told herself. Nothing more.

The others returned soon enough, following the city sewer systems back to the cave entrance. Tim eventually came back too, in warmer clothes, dry hair and a calmer disposition, and everyone sat by the computer, and waited.

*****

“How certain are you of this lead?” Tim asked three mornings later.

Bruce ran a hand across his face. It had been a long three days, Wayne Enterprises was going to be funding quite a number of building sites and repairs to basic utilities over the coming weeks, but for now, the weather had calmed enough for people to emerge from the lockdown. The streets were now filled with people enjoying the snow, to which Tim couldn’t blame them. There was something beautiful about freshly fallen snow and a horizon which blurred the line between sky and ground.

“Not very,” Bruce admitted, approaching the piano. “Hence why I’m only taking Robin with me.”

Damian’s little chest puffed out – proud to be the chosen one to accompany his father. Bruce looked at Stephanie, Tim, Duke and Cassandra as he spoke, deliberately holding their gaze to convey the importance he held their task.

“You four are remaining in Gotham. I’m trusting you to look after it until we get back. There shouldn’t be any major operations. The river is frozen, and many roads are blocked still with up to six feet of snow. But still, do what you can.”

“Be safe.” Cassandra urged.

Stephanie gave a tiny wave to Damian, who’s hand twitched to return the goodbye, but thought better of it, and he tutted and turned to follow.

Uncomfortable silence filled the house as the clock closed behind the two, leaving the four remaining members of the family stood awkwardly.

“Now what?” Steph asked, pushing back the heavy curtains to peer outside. “College is cancelled, no schools, no work… At least the snow has stopped. Should we monitor for problems or take a break… just for an afternoon.”

She looked back to smile at Duke, Cass and Tim, tilting her jaw outside. Cassandra clapped her hands in joy. “I saw on the tv people playing in the snow. I never have before.”

Duke gave an encouraging noise. “Yes. Yes, yes, yes. Snowball fight.”

Tim looked reluctant, until Stephanie elbowed him in the gut and agreed with Duke, saying, “Yeah. Sounds good. Need a bit of levity right now, huh?”

She raised her eyebrows, and Tim got the message.

“Oh! Yes. Sounds good!”

His tone was forcibly cheery, but he would warm up to the idea when actually outside, Stephanie thought.

Alfred, with the hearing of a bat, poked his head around a door frame. “Please wrap up warm, and shower when you are finished to bring your body temperature back up.”

“Can we have coco, Alfred?” Cassandra pled, eyes big as dinner plates.

“Yes, sounds a lovely idea. Try to get some joy from the terrible weather please, all of you.”

Cassandra burst off to get wrapped up, the other three trailing behind.

Stephanie laughed at Cassandra’s exuberance, trying to get her shoes on quicker. The Manor, built on the hill in the way it was, meant that the five feet of snowfall hadn’t reached the back door and steps. It did mean though, after some shoving by Cassandra, the door heaved open. She ran out, throwing herself down the stairs and onto a hug pile of freshly laid snow. She faceplanted with a shriek of joy, quickly creating snow angels. Stephanie trotted after her, calling,

“Cassie, have you ever made a snowman before?”

“No!”

“Me either. Help me?”

Tim watched for a little while as the girls – for a lack of a better term – frolicked in the white snow. Cassandra stood out more against the white, dressed from head to toe in black, Stephanie in that blinding white, purple and green jacket blended in a little more with the landscape. He was quite content to just sit on the salted steps and watch, but a solid smack to the back of his neck, snow and ice sneaking down his collar, made him squeal.

Duke laughed, “Bad form, dude! Gotta keep your eyes peeled!”

“Jesus!” Tim choked out, reflexively grabbing a pile of snow and flinging it back weakly. A snowball fight ensued.

Alfred watched the four from the kitchen window, more than a little delighted at the childish screams of joy that made their way across the Estate. At least some people were finding joy in such miserable weather. As an adult, snow only meant pain.

Transport difficulties, concerns about plumbing and electricity, would the roof cope? What if there’s flooding? Need to clear the sidewalks and drives and roads. Is there enough food to keep us going long enough for the storm to pass?

So many worries.

For children, it only meant wrapping up warmer, maybe missing a week of school, and games outside.

Never mind, let them enjoy it for a little while longer.

Alfred noted that flurries of snow had begun to fall, though immediately he could tell they snow was larger and slower falling than the other night. Still, the four had been outside for a couple of hours by this point, perhaps it was time for them to come in.

He moved away from the stove, turning off the heat on the milk, and making his way to the door to call them back in to warm up.

He managed to get the door open only to be met with a violent shriek from Tim, his body falling to the floor and curling up in a ball.

Instantly the frivolity stopped, and Stephanie burst across the snow. She wrapped around him, pushing his hand away from his eye. Cassandra and Duke hovered around, nervous and unsure.

“It wasn’t me.” Duke begged, “He was looking up, I didn’t throw anything at him.”

Stephanie cooed, trying to see the damage.

“What happened? Is it your eye? Did something get in your eye?”

“Get him inside so we can take a better look,” Alfred urged. “I worry the weather is only going to deteriorate.”

Alfred quickly put on the fire in one of the sitting areas and sat Tim down on the rug. He still had the heel of his palm pressed to his left eye socket. Cassandra and Duke continued to hover, nervous at the damage. Stephanie came through from the kitchen with a cold compact in case there was any swelling. She knelt in front of Tim.

“Can I see?”

Tim gave her a suspicious look, which she didn’t understand. Reaching him, she went to peel his hand away, and he flinched back. Her outreached hand froze in mid-air.

“Does it really hurt?” She asked. “Do we need to get to the hospital somehow?”

“No. I don’t want you touching me.”

She shook her head, reaching for him again. She tried to gently tease, “We can’t fix it if we can’t see what’s wrong. It’ll just take a second.”

Stephanie pushed back his hair from his forehead, as she always did to comfort him. She heard Cassandra gasp before she realised what happened, but Tim recoiled at the touch and – even worse – slapped her hand away from his face.

“I mean it. Don’t.”

It had been a while since he had directed such a sharp rebuke towards her. Her palm stung with the force he had smacked her with. Immediately, she entered a panic.

“You… Okay. I won’t. Sorry. Sorry. I’m sorry.”

His sneering look did not fade, and it made Stephanie get up off the floor. She passed the cold press to Alfred, who Tim, still looking supremely uncomfortable, allowed to examine the damage.

She left the room and the manor, sitting on the steps to try and calm down. Weird how one sharp word could make her feel like she was five years old again. The falling snow muffled the sounds of the Estate, and everything was eerily quiet, save the sound of her panicked breathing.

Immediately Cassandra came out and joined her, wrapping her up in a hug.

“I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Stephanie whined.

“I know.”

Stephanie leaned down, forehead resting on Cassandra’s bony arms. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise to me. He’ll feel bad later, and you can talk it out.”

Stephanie nodded, knowing Cassandra was right. In the meantime, she flexed her hand, the one Tim had hit so sharply.

“He’s yelled at me before…”

“But never looked at you like that?”

“No.” Stephanie’s lip quivered. “I’m overthinking it.”

“You aren’t yourself when you’re in pain.”

Stephanie nodded fervently and frantically. “Right, right.”

They sat still for a while, listening to the silence. Then the door opened once more. It was Tim. Immediately Stephanie was on her feet. His eye looked fine, not even bloodshot or swollen.

“Are you okay?” She asked. He looked at her, suspicion gone but now a little bored and pouty.

“Fine. Listen, can we go home now?”

“Home?”

“To the apartment.” Tim shuffled in place, looking disgruntled. “I’d drive myself but Alfred won’t let me. My eye is fine.”

Confused, but deciding to not make a scene until they were alone, Stephanie nodded. “I’ll have to go slow. I don’t know how much of the roads have been cleared.

“Whatever.” He murmured, looking distracted.

Cassandra gave Stephanie a look which was a little unreadable. Stephanie gave her thanks to Alfred, and waved goodbye to Duke.

The drive back was painful in every possible way. Stephanie’s little purple car was sturdy, but she still went much slower than normal. Tim curled up in his seat next to her, head pressed to his knees. She could see that with one hand he was aggressively clawing at the centre of his chest, near his heart. Neither spoke for the duration of the drive.

When they got parked up, he slowly and stiffly got up and out. Stephanie grabbed her phone and messaged Duke that they had survived the journey.

She arrived in the apartment after Tim, finding him looking around the space with his lip curled. He didn’t look impressed with the place, as if it wasn’t his own home that he had decorated and lived in.

She sat her bag down by the door, and walked over to him.

“Sweetie, are you sure you’re okay? I hurt you earlier.”

“No. You didn’t.” He said, moving through to the kitchen. Whatever he was looking for wasn’t to be found, and he migrated upstairs to their bedroom. She followed, anxious about leaving him alone.

“Can I see your eye? I’d feel better taking a look myself.”

He sighed like she had asked the world of him and plopped himself at the foot of their bed.

“Hurry up, then.”

She approached him like she would a rabid dog, turning on the overhead light so she could properly see. Gently, she rested her fingertips on his cheek and brow bone.

Like he said, there was nothing amiss.

“What happened?” She breathed. “If nothing hurt you –”

“You’re really warm.” He interrupted. His disinterested look became hungry, and Stephanie dropped her hands, only for Tim to catch her wrists. His fingers were frozen, which should not have been the case after a car ride where the heating had been keeping them toasty. Stephanie felt a lump of ice form in her gut.

“Tim, stop it. What’s going on?”

“Cold.” He murmured. He squeezed her wrists tighter, tight enough to make her twist out of his grip in fear. Immediately he stood up and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling into to her. Stephanie became stiff, listening to him licking his lips and mutter, “You’re warm. Hot. Need…”

Backing off just enough to look her in the eye, his expression twitched, and naked panic appeared for just a moment. Trying to maintain a poker face, Stephanie released herself from his grip, unnerved. Removed from her warmth his apathy returned, and the tenseness in his posture fled.

Confused, Stephanie massaged her wrists, and tried to buy herself some time.

“Go take a nap and warm up. Okay? Just… Just go take a nap.”

He smiled at her, but not warmly. It was mocking. “Yes, mother.”

The feeling of dread only rose and spread. She felt like there was a permanent clump in her throat. Finding there was nothing she could say that wouldn’t result in an argument, she just turned and left, leaving Tim’s sardonic smirk behind.

He had never made her uncomfortable before. Never. He had been angry with her. He had argued with her. He had yelled at her, belittled her, and once or twice in moments they never spoke about, he had been physically violent with her (the unspoken excuse was, both times, he didn’t actually know it was her… as if that made it acceptable). But never had she been made to feel unsafe. Tim was predictable in his moods. Whatever was going on frightened her. She shouldn’t have come back alone with him.

Maybe she could message Cass or Duke…they could get here in around an hour and…

While her mind raced, she resolved to make some comfort food for dinner. She opened the fridge, finding casserole beef that would be out of date in two days, an onion, a carrot, and three potatoes.

“Good enough.” She muttered and set to work.

Two hours later, as the stew continued to cook slowly in the oven and she was washing the dishes, Tim came downstairs quietly. He made his way over to Stephanie, finding it a little amusing how she tensed up when he wrapped his arms around her waist.

Stephanie managed to not gasp out loud when he pulled her long hair out of the way and pressed kisses to her neck, but she couldn’t help the involuntary goosebumps and risen fine hairs. He was frigid.

“How are you feeling?” Stephanie asked.

“Had a nap.” He rested his sharp chin on her shoulder. “I made you worry, didn’t I?”

She said nothing at his patronising tone, not sure what to say. Yes, and you still are. What the hell is wrong with you right now? But no, she was trying to be good and not respond and set off an argument.

“My eye’s fine.” He continued.

“That’s good.” She said, slowly leaning back so she could take off the rubber gloves. The moment she did, one of his hands snaked down to intertwine with her own. That did make her gasp, and flinch, but his grip on her waist tightened.

“What are you making?”

“Some stew to warm you up.” She replied, voice aggressively chipper.

Tim looked over to the oven, unimpressed.

“It stinks.”

Somehow that was the breaking point for Steph, who threw her arms back and moved away.

“What is your problem, huh?”

He looked back, almost gleeful. “You’re upset.”

“No shit I’m upset! Something’s wrong! You got something in your eye that made you fall to the ground in pain and now it’s nothing? You are physically cold as ice and you’re just being a pain and mean and childish and –”

“Childish. Childish?” He looked to the side as if he had a bright idea and moved away, back into the living room. “I thought you wanted that.”

“God, Tim, what are you blathering on abo—”

She cut herself off as he stood next to the windowsill with the flowers. It had been a couple of weeks since they had brought them home, and they were doing well, even with the general lack of sunlight. Tim stared at them like they were weeds, with nothing notable or pleasant about them, then he smiled maniacally.

With a carelessness comparable to a toddler throwing a tantrum, Tim pulled his red roses off the windowsill, the pot crashing and soil flying everywhere. Stephanie couldn’t help it, she screamed, stuck in place by the kitchen.

“Tim, no! No! Why would you… No don’t! Please don’t!”

His hand was hovering over her lilac flowers. His awful smile froze, then fell away, leaving an equally awful emptiness. His hand trembled, and his fingers instead stroked the petals. Stephanie twitched, half ready to body slam him if he threw her plant on the ground.

His hand fell away, and Stephanie – shamefully – began to cry. He had left her roses alone but wrecked his own.

“Why would you do that?”

He looked at her like she was stupid for not getting the joke. “They’re so ugly. And I thought it would be funny. Your face.”

“Funny?” She sniffed, eyesight blurry and nose running. She couldn’t bear how bored he sounded, how mean he was being.

“When you get all angry and hot.”

“Tim! You don’t do that to someone you care about!”

“Care about you? Do I?” He blinked, uncomprehending. He had gotten distracted again and was looking out the window at the snow.

She shrieked, feeling like she was talking to a brick wall or an uncaring five-year-old. She rushed over to his wrecked plant, trying to pack the soil together as best she could. Tim watched her for a moment, then kicked the spilt soil and plant. Stephanie flinched away, staring at the scattered dirt. Intentionally or not, he’d hit her hands that were trying to salvage the situation. It was such an unnecessarily spiteful and painful thing to do, that finally she’d had enough. Stephanie got up, and shoved Tim.

“Stop it.”

He didn’t look satisfied with her reaction anymore, and asked, “Do you want me to leave?”

“I want you to stop being so fucking cruel.”

It was like her words were literally going in one ear and out the other. It was like he wasn’t even talking to her, rather he was talking at her. Or he was talking to someone (something) else. “I’ll go then. I’ll go. I’m bored.”

She watched, mystified, as he put his shoes back on. He looked at her once and tilted his head like a confused dog, then moved back towards her. Still crying, she choked out,

“What are you –”

He kissed her, once, desperately. She flinched away, feeling violated for the first time in years. It seemed he was not happy with the kiss either. He looked off to the side, sucking on his tongue, musing the flavour. He shook his head once.

“No good.”

Stephanie stared, heartbroken. Tim just shrugged, like the entire thing was nothing more than a mild conversation about the weather. Grabbing her car keys. He opened the front door, giving a half-hearted farewell. And then he was gone. No coat, no gloves, no scarf. The snow flurries had picked up once more, as had the wind. He was going to very quickly freeze out in the open dressed like that. Even if he did have the car, getting stranded was a real possibility in the storm.

Hating him, but also petrified, Stephanie resolved to drag him back inside. She’d make him sit down, shove the stew she’d made down his stupid throat, then call Batman. She didn’t care what he and Robin were doing at the South Pole, something had gone very wrong back home.

Stephanie grabbed the apartment keys and grabbed her own shoes, running after him. The lights flickered, a power surge apparently occurring due to the storm, and she tripped over their pile of shoes at the front door and she tugged it open.

“You dick!” She screeched to the howling wind. No sign of Tim though, or her car. She jolted, confused at how he could have pulled out of sight that quickly. Already the tire tracks were covered in a fresh layer of snow. Her confusion quickly returned to anger.

Fuck him, she thought spitefully, slamming the door shut and going back inside. Getting back down to see what of his roses had survived his abuse. She cleared space in her own box, hoping that they would take in their temporary home.

She then went to call him, for once being the first to crack after an argument of theirs, only to realise before she clicked his face that his phone was still in his jacket that was hung on the rack.

He really had left the house with nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

She didn’t know what to do. She’d been an idiot during their time at the Manor and had left behind her suit, leaving her stuck inside with nothing warm or secure enough to go hunting for her purple car. As several hours passed, the more her anger made way for pure grief.

That wasn’t Tim. Never in a million years would he be that cruel. Angry yes, spiteful sometimes, but not callous. And he did care about her. She knew that for a fact. More than she believed almost anything else. Even when their relationship was at its worst, he had said, word for word, that he still loved her.

He wouldn’t make fun of her until she cried, he wouldn’t hit and kick her, he wouldn’t wreck a present that he knew was important to her, he wouldn’t be such a self-absorbed brat.

The wind screamed outside, and Stephanie blinked.

Freak storm. Tim’s adverse reaction. The pain in his eye and drastic mood swing.

The whole thing stank of something unnatural.

It was next to nothing to go off, but she had to try and see where that line of thought would lead. First things first though, she needed Tim to come home.

But he didn’t.

Panicking wouldn’t do any good. Tim could look after himself. Even in a storm like last night. Her little car was given to her by Bruce. It was as sturdy as a tank. He would be fine.

But still. Stephanie panicked and did not sleep that night. Instead she sat in the living room, drinking mug of tea after mug of tea, watching her roses and the snow blowing outside through the window. Occasionally she’d burst into tears, not sure what to do or what to say. She could brave the storm, maybe? But Tim didn’t have a key. What if he came home and couldn’t get in? What if he found a phone and called her, would she go to him then? What if, what if, what if?

Stephanie wondered briefly who people coped not knowing where their loved ones were before mobiles became extensions of their arms.

Maybe he’d just left Gotham, gone out of the city and away from the storm. It was minus twenty that night, again unbearably cold. Stephanie sat still, grief stricken, and waited for Tim to come home.

He never did.

Come the morning, she started her hunt, looking at the CCTV footage of Park Row and the neighbouring streets and businesses, but found nothing. The footage blinked, showing Tim exiting the apartment, then he and the car was gone, and it was Stephanie poking her head out to yell.

It was like he had shut the front door behind him and vanished. Or it would have been, if not for the fact that that blip of a power surge had happened at an awfully convenient time.

She messaged Cass and Duke, who confirmed that he did not return to the manor. A quiet enquiry to the Titans showed he had not made his way West either. The storm over Gotham that night was almost as bad as the first. He would have died if he did not find shelter.

The stink of the unnatural grew.

Her grief turned to panic, and two more awful days passed. The three of them took to frantic searching across the city, but a fresh layer snow made tracking her car difficult. Even worse, the GPS system installed by Bruce on her car (a safety precaution to now where she was at any given moment) wasn’t working. It hadn’t since Stephanie and Tim had arrived at the apartment.

Duke checked the different homes the Drake’s had owned just in case he had holed himself up there. The townhouse, the mansion in Bristol, but nothing. Cassandra and Stephanie had checked every safe house in Gotham, but no luck.

Duke wanted to inform Batman. Whatever lead Bruce was chasing, this was doubly important. One of his children had gone missing. Cassandra disputed Duke. Bruce had an entire city to worry about, adding Tim’s disappearance would not make him more urgent. If anything, it would make him sloppier. Nothing made Bruce more irrational than his family in danger. Let him tackle the issue with a clear head. The three of them in Gotham could find Tim.

But three days later, they hadn’t.

So Cassandra conceded, and the awful call to Bruce was made. Stephanie did not speak to him, but judging by Cass’ face after the conversation ended, it had not gone well. She relayed the information that his own search had been a dead end and would be home before the evening came round.

This served to make an anxious bubbling a permanent fixture in Stephanie’s gut. Surely if Bruce was coming home, the problem would be resolved?

A problem she had allowed to happen. Letting Tim just waltz out into a blizzard great job Steph.

No-one blamed Stephanie, though she certainly blamed herself. Tim’s roses were not taking to their shared space with Stephanie’s, and it felt like a miserable metaphor of how their relationship was seemingly incompatible.

What the actual hell had happened?

Staring at the roses, and hating herself a little, she decided to go speak to one of the few people in Gotham who maybe would have a clue about what was happening to the natural world.

Poison Ivy had a connection to the Green, whatever that was. It was a shot in the dark, but maybe Pamela would have heard something through the literal grapevine about what was causing the horrendous weather. From there, maybe Stephanie could chase a lead to Tim, and bring him home.

Alive. Preferably.

#dc #tim drake #stephanie brown #timsteph #my fic tag

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pastelle-pvnk · 4 years

Text

Why I Started Writing Again, or:

The Pretty True Story of How The Raven Cycle Saved My Life.

--This is long, so thank you in advance for reading if you do.--

I wanted to take a minute to talk about the importance of fandom and feeling like you belong and how that’s a very powerful thing.

Before I participated in the @pynchpromptweek 2019 Secret Santa exchange, I hadn’t written anything since January of 2015. The last time I posted was two days before 24th birthday. I can tell you exactly what was going on in my life at that time.

I had just been told that I wasn’t going to make it through law school. My choosing to go to law school had less to do with the actual desire to practice law and more with the drive to do something that the world and my parents would accept as worthy. I had a writing degree from a good four-year university; continuing higher education by getting my J.D. was just something that was expected.

2014, however, saw my grades slipping because - surprise, surprise - I wasn’t interested in what I was learning. The kicker to this is, of course, I wasn’t used to failure. I never really needed to study in high school and college; as long as I was on track to graduate with honors, my parents were pleased and I could do as I liked. It didn’t hurt that my degree had me writing fiction all day. Granted, it was very bad fiction, but it was still writing.

I wrote all the time in high school and college. I wrote fanfiction and original fiction - anything wordy I could get my hands around, I did. I wasn’t really involved in fandom because, though I have the personality of a golden retriever, I also have a friend named Anxiety and a friend named Depression so I tend to be very cautious when joining things because I’m afraid people will immediately perceive me as being annoying. Yes, I’m going to therapy. Yes, it’s helping.

Here’s the thing: law school is unlike any academic experience you will ever face. Law students are a strange breed of cryptids, foaming at the mouth for the love of justice and copious mounts of alcohol. You have to completely throw yourself into the first year of law school to even stay afloat and let’s be honest - I was mostly in it so that I could study abroad in Ireland that first summer (which I DID and it was AWESOME).

When I got the summons to appear in front of the academic board and was told that I probably wouldn’t be allowed to continue law school - that I had failed - my desire to write dried up.

It didn’t help that someone made a reappearance in my life and his reappearance was not helpful. Like, at all.

Depression moved in with me like a bad roommate. Anxiety was its unwelcome, unhelpful partner. My relationships grew strained. I had a hard time talking to my dude. I had a hard time talking to my best friends, many of whom were either still in law school or had found jobs and were successful. I didn’t see where my place in the picture was anymore.

I worked in a restaurant and I worked in a bookstore and I didn’t write.

And I worked for my parents and I got a salaried, “big-kid” job and I didn’t write. I got married! And I didn’t write.

I didn’t write for almost 5 years. Sure, I jotted ideas down. But the thought of seeing those ideas through was exhausting and terrifying. What if I failed again? What if, just like law school, I had imagined my desire to be a writer and I was actually very horrible at the very thing that had been bringing me joy for 10+ years?

Two very important things happened in those five years: I rediscovered my love of reading for pleasure (a thing that gets sucked out of you quite viciously after five and a half years of higher education), and I read The Raven Cycle.

I know that there are a stunning number of people who love Maggie Stiefvater’s writing, and I’m one of ‘em.

(I’m getting teary thinking about this, hang on.)

Okay. I was working at a very big bookstore chain in the children’s department. My focus in college had been YA lit, so when I had the opportunity to recommend books to kids and teens, I jumped on it and didn’t let go. Part of my job was shelving books into their appropriate sections and I had seen The Raven Boys, The Dream Thieves, and Blue Lily, Lily Blue more times than I could count. In April, 2016, The Raven King hit the shelves and I decided it was time to read this series.

I was HOOKED. Not only was this a vibrant, incredible world with these super dynamic characters but the fandom was active and thriving. There’s something uniquely special about jumping into fandom when it’s established, healthy, and active. You actually feel like you can contribute and want to.

Here’s the disclaimer: I only dabbled on Tumblr between 2016 and 2019 (my depression had me delete my blog twice, which was unhelpful), so I probably missed some things, but I’ve never known The Raven Cycle fandom to be anything but welcoming and open. Everyone has their ships, everyone has their tropes, and everyone has their opinions but the people I’ve interacted with have also practiced this wonderful “You like what you like, I like what I like, let’s talk about the overlap” mentality that I adore. I adore this mentality so much that when one of my best friends said, “You wanna start a book podcast to talk about stuff we like and don’t like?” I said, “YES.”

One of the reasons we chose to do The Raven Cycle, and subsequently Call Down the Hawk, for @shelfcontrolpod is because I’m so grateful to this series and this fandom for bringing the joy of unabashedly loving something back into my life.

When I saw the Pynch Prompt Week Secret Santa come across my dash last winter, I felt like I was in a good enough place to join in. I was so, so nervous. More than the fear of not being a good writer, I was afraid of failing. I was afraid I wouldn’t be able to find the words and I would disappoint and be disappointed. But I managed to squeeze out As If I’d Choose Anything Else - the first thing I’d written in almost 5 years.

Then I did @bittysvalentines Gift Exchange. I signed up for @trcbigbang. I signed up for @rwrbbigbang. I kept jumping into fandom and joining discord servers and putting myself and my writing out there for people to read. In the last four months, I’ve written more than I wrote in that last, horrible year of law school. Even with all the craziness going around and things in my personal life that aren’t ideal, I’m still inspired to create.

A huge part of all of this are the people I’ve met doing these challenges. The people I’ve let myself come to know through fandom. By sharing a little of myself with them and happily embracing what they share with me, I’ve found a community where I feel very much at home. So thank you, OMGCP fandom and RWRB fandom. Thank you, TRC fandom in particular. There’s a lot of overlap in there, but you all have brought joy into my life, and I’m so grateful for it.

Thank you to creators like Maggie Stiefvater and Ngozi Ukazu for creating these worlds I adore.

And thank you, law school, for teaching me about failure and what it felt like to have all the wind taken out of my sails so that I could redirect my ship and find new winds to take me to better shores.

(Okay, now I’m actually crying.)

#personal #long post #the raven cycle #red white and royal blue #omg check please #check please comic #trc #rwrb #omgcp

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the-awkward-outlaw · 5 years

Text

Second Chances - Ch. 13

The Sweetheart Tree

Warnings: fluff (so much fluff!), angst, smut

Word Count: ~8200

You’ve been at Clemens Point with the gang for a few weeks now. Dutch has gotten quite involved with the two most prominent families in Rhodes, the Grays and the Braithwaites. You’ve learned, via information brought by Arthur, that the sheriff Lee Gray is a drunkard and quite soft-minded. Easy enough to fool. The Braithwaites, as reported by Hosea, are a much tougher sell. Their matriarch, Catherine, is an older woman with multiple sons. According to Hosea, back during the war, they were heavily involved with the Confederate troops, and the ending of the war with the Union win hit them hard, turning them to sell illegal amounts of moonshine in order to keep up their name. The Grays had already taken many efforts in order to shut down their alcohol business, but with little impact on the Braithwaites.

Arthur returns in the afternoon, closely followed by a heavily-sweating Dutch. They had left earlier that day to go with Sheriff Gray on a job in order to better earn the Grays’ trust. You see Arthur hop off of Artemis and Dutch walk up to him, speaking words and patting him on the shoulder. You can’t hear anything they say to one another, being over with the other girls doing laundry. You see Dutch walk away from Arthur, a proud smile on his face. Arthur looks after him curiously, then he spots you. His face splits into a massive grin and he walks quickly over to you. You put down your sewing tools and meet him halfway. He pulls you into a bone-crushing hug.

“Ah, I missed ya, darlin’,” he says.

“Arthur, you only saw me this morning. You’re acting like we ain’t seen each other in days.”

“What? So I can’t miss my girl for even a few hours?” he says playfully.

You lean back from him and grin. “Well, if it’s any consolation, I missed you, too.”

Sean struts back, huffing. “You two!” he snides jokingly. “Always wrappin’ ‘round each otter! If it gets any hotter ‘tween the two of you, we’ll soon have ‘noder Jack runnin’ round!”

He walks away, chuckling, but it’s enough to turn your face red. Of course, no one else in the camp knows about you being infertile, and you certainly hope none of them know about what Arthur did to you in the woods a few days ago.

Arthur drops his arms, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “Damn it, Sean,” he says.

“He knows how to ruin a moment, that’s for sure,” you smile.

Lenny strolls past you. You can tell he’s just come off of guard duty. He pats Arthur’s shoulder briefly.

“Hey Arthur, when you get a chance, I need to talk to ya about somethin’.” You can tell by the grin on his face it’s something he’s proud and excited about.

“Shoar,” Arthur says, his hands going to his gun belt. “What is it, kid?”

Lenny looks around, almost as though he’s nervous about anyone overhearing. He looks at you, then shrugs his shoulders. He beckons for you and Arthur to follow him, taking you to the edge of the lake. He turns to you, the glint in his eye sharper than it was before.

“I was talkin’ to some of the colored folk in Rhodes,” he says hurriedly. “They said there’s a gang of fools in the swamps east of here who seem to think the war never ended.”

“The Civil War?” you ask. You hardly know much about the Civil War yourself, being from Blackwater and coming around long after the war was won.

“Yeah,” he says. “Apparently it’s still ragin’ in these fools’ minds thirty years later. But word has it these fellers are also weapons dealers. Sounded like they might be sittin’ on a decent pile of cash.”

Arthur looked at him optimistically, his hand running over the scruff on his face. “With nothin’ but a bunch of crazies guarding it, huh?” he says. He nods his head. “Well, sounds like it might be worth takin’ a look.”

Lenny grins wide and hurries over to the horses. Arthur turns to you.

“Can I come?” you ask, hopeful.

“I don’t know, darlin’,” he says, patting your shoulder. “Probably gonna be dangerous. Might be gettin’ shot at.”

“All the more reason for me to come,” you say. You’re determined not to be left behind while Arthur tries to get himself killed again. “You already know I can handle a gun. I can hold myself during a gun fight, I’ve already been in a few.”

He sighs then nods. “A’right, fine. But you have to promise to do everythin’ I say, no arguin’, ya got it?”

You nod your head once, feeling proud. He leads you over to the horses, then hands you a carbine repeater, instructing you to put it into your saddle.

“I know all ya got is that shotgun,” he explains as you mount Rannoch. “That only works well in close range. Most likely, we’ll be shootin’ from a distance.”

You nudge your calves into Rannoch, urging him to follow Lenny’s horse. He calls back to you and Arthur. “Fellers in town said they’re holed up in a big ol’ mansion called Shady Belle.”

You follow the boys out of the trees and onto the main road. During the ride, you hear Lenny and Arthur talking about how differently people judge others in the South, particularly towards colored people. It’s something you’ve thought little about yourself. During your childhood, Blackwater had its fair share of colored people, mostly Mexicans and Native Americans, sometimes Asian workers from the railroad being built out west would come by. African Americans, however, were few and far between. You have noticed since arriving in Lemoyne that there are quite a bit more of them, not that it makes much difference to you.

After several moments of cantering down the road, the scenery begins to change slightly from the hot, dry orange dirts of Rhodes to thick, dark mud. The trees grow mossy, the air becomes thicker. Lenny leads you both down a heavily overgrown road. Far ahead in the distance, you see some sort of building.

“We should hide the horses here,” he says, heading a few yards off the trail and hopping off. You and Arthur follow his lead. “You got a scoped rifle, Arthur?” he asks.

Arthur pulls the sniper rifle he had used during the job you had done with him and John to steal the sheep in Valentine. You grab the carbine he had given you. On either side of the trail sits a crumbling stone wall. It had obviously been part of a grand estate a long time ago. Near it lies a slightly crooked sign saying “Shady Belle”.

You and Arthur hide behind the wall on one side of the path, Lenny behind the other. Arthur looks through the scope on his gun, pointing it ahead of him. You stand behind him and peak around him, placing your hands on his shoulders.

Ahead you can see a large mansion sitting on a large plot of land, a broken and empty fountain in front of it. Thirty or forty years ago, this house must have been a grand and extraordinary place, home to a wealthy family. Now ivy crawls the dirt-spattered walls and columns, most of the windows have broken panes. You make out near the brown river a slightly crumbled gazebo near a large tree. Between the fountain in front of the house and the wall acting as your cover, there’s several barracks made of sandbags. Had this place once been a battlefield during the war?

On one side of the house, near an old shack, sit several tents. Men walk around them, going around the piles of crates. You see a large carriage, two draft horses already hooked up to it. Several men stand around it, piling boxes into it. Arthur starts to point out areas of the most interest, including a gatling gun on the upper porch of the house and several boxes of dynamite near the front door. He and Lenny come up with a plan for him to shoot the dynamite.

Arthur begins counting down from five. You take your spot close to him, making sure the carbine in your hands is loaded. He reaches one and he fires his gun, which is followed by a massive explosion. You hear several men start to yell, the sound of them shooting back. Lenny dashes out from his spot and goes to the sandbags, yelling at them. You’re about to join him when Arthur pushes you back.

“Hold on, there’s a guy on the gatling!” he says.

You can hear the gatling gun fire out multiple rounds quickly. Arthur aims and fires, the gatling gun goes silent. He swings the scoped rifle onto his shoulder, pulling off his Springfield rifle. “C’mon,” he says.

You follow him quickly out into the open. You dart behind a barrack and then look up over it, pointing your gun. You fire it at several men, most of them going down. You and your companions fight the Raiders for several minutes, occasionally moving closer to the house as more of them fall.

The fighting ends as quickly as it began. You wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, looking around at all the dead men.

“Let’s look around,” Lenny says. “Gotta have their guns or cash stashed around somewhere.”

You and Arthur begin searching the camp. You peak into the last tent, finding nothing. You’re beginning to wonder if the weapons might be inside the house itself when Arthur calls you and Lenny over. He stands in the carriage that the Raiders had been loading. He opens a box and pulls out a handsome rifle. He inspects it and then hands it to you.

“Here,” he says. “Why don’t you keep that one?”

You take it from him and look over the bolt action rifle. You aim it quickly, making sure the sights on it is accurate, then swing it over your shoulder. Lenny and Arthur sit down in the front, you sit on the box behind Arthur. He flicks the reins, guiding the horses away from the crumbling mansion.

Arthur guides the horses out of the thick trees and onto the main trail. Suddenly three riders show up.

“Hey, what’re those fellers doin’ with our wagon?” one of them says. He points his gun at Arthur, ordering him to stop. Arthur pulls the horses to a halt, you shift your hands over your new rifle, preparing for another fight.

“We just had some business dealings with your partners there,” Arthur says cheekily.

“No colored man be stupid enough to go near our place!” another one shouts. “Kill ‘em!”

“What about the girl?” the last one asks.

“Kill the men, keep the girl,” the first one says. Arthur whips out his rifle and shoots two of the men quickly, Lenny takes down the third. They had been so quick you’ve only begun to stand up. The men fall off their horses, dead. Arthur flicks the reins again, carrying on. He reaches back and pats your shoulder as you sit down, making sure you’re alright.

“Guess we out of the woods now, so to speak,” Lenny says, throwing his rifle over his shoulder.

“You did good, kid,” Arthur says.

“I know Sean’s been bringin’ in a lot lately,” Lenny says. “I just wanted to have something to show.”

“Sean’s a loud mouth and a braggart,” Arthur says flatly. “Don’t worry about what he does.”

“I like him,” Lenny says.

“Well, I do too, against my better judgment. But just you worry about you, a’right? Me and Dutch, and everyone else who counts, we notice. We know what you do for this gang. Keep it up and you’re gonna start seeing things change for you.”

Arthur guides the wagon back to camp, pulling it to a stop near the hitching post. As Lenny stands up, Arthur stops him, offering his hand. “I always enjoy riding’ with you, kid,” he smiles.

Lenny thanks him and hops off the wagon. You get up and start pushing the box of rifles to the edge with some difficulty. Lenny sees you struggling and comes up.

“Don’t worry about that, Y/N,” he says, approaching the back. “Might as well leave ‘em there, be easier to sell. I’ll take care of ‘em.”

You shrug your shoulders and hop out of the wagon. “You did good,” Lenny says, patting your shoulder.

“You, too. Y’know how to fight real good, Lenny,” you say. He offers you a wide grin.

You spot Arthur standing near the draft horses, patting a large dun. He gestures for you to follow him. He leads you to Pearson’s fire, scooping out some stew and offering it to you. When you both have your dinner, you go and sit on the banks of the lake, watching the sun set into the firey water. When your stew is gone, you remain sitting there with Arthur, his hand wrapped around yours.

A few days have gone by since the raid on Shady Belle. You lie in Arthur’s cot, the blanket draped over you. Someone shakes you awake. You crack open your eyes; it’s still nearly dark. Arthur hovers over you.

“Darlin’, you awake?” he asks.

“I am now,” you groan. You turn over, wanting to go back to sleep. He pats your shoulder again.

“Will you come with me, sweetheart?” he says. You look at him, furrowing your brows. “Come see the sunrise, darlin’. They’re somethin’ else here.”

With some complaining, you swing your legs up and start putting on your boots. Arthur smiles widely the entire time.

“Glad to see you’re so awake already,” you grumble at him, standing up.

“We’ll get ya some coffee, how’s that?” he says, taking your hand. He walks you through the camp, stopping at Pearson’s fire to pour you a cup. He hands it to you and leads you on. He takes you to the eastern edge of camp, overlooking a cove. The sun hasn’t yet risen, but the horizon above the trees on the opposite shore is turning from blue to pink.

You yawn heavily, drinking your coffee quickly. You turn Arthur to face you so you can bury your face into his chest. “Wake me when it comes up,” you mumble into his shirt. You feel and hear him laugh as he wraps his arms around you. After a few moments, he pats your back gently.

“Look, darlin’.”

You open your eyes and see the sun rising, the sky turning various shades of orange, and red. A few wispy clouds spatter the sky, their forms burning to gold. It really is a beautiful sight.

“Okay, you’re forgiven for getting me up so early,” you say. His chest rumbles again as he chuckles.

After a while, he takes your hand and starts taking you back into camp. Bill, Lenny and Karen stand around an empty wagon.

“Morgan!” Bill yells to him.

Arthur looks at you. “I’ll catch up with ya in a minute, darlin’.”

You nod and let go of his hand, going into camp alone. You head over to your shared tent, strapping on your gunbelt and grabbing your hat. Arthur walks quickly over to you, holding a folded black coat in his arms.

“What’s going on?” you ask.

“Ah, Karen, Bill and Lenny wanna hit up the bank in Valentine. Say it’s unfinished business.”

“Can’t they take John or Charles?” you plead. You’ve been hoping to go on a hunting trip with Arthur.

“I wish, but they say they want me there. When I get back, you and I can go.”

He trades his green shotgun coat for the old, faded black duster, positioning it over his shoulders. You see Karen walk through camp in a fancy magenta dress. Arthur kisses you quickly before heading out.

“Be careful!” you call to him. He waves at you, hopping onto his horse and running through the trees after the others.

You spend the next couple of hours doing chores, but you’re so pent up you decide to head out on your own for a bit. You mount Rannoch and head out of camp, surprised that no one tries to stop you. You guess they’re all too busy waiting for Arthur and the others to take too much notice of you.

When you reach the main trail, you almost turn to go into Rhodes, but then you change your mind. This state is too muggy and warm for your taste. You crave the sight of mountains and thick pine forests again. You head north towards the Heartlands.

Within a relatively short time, you spot in the distance Emerald Ranch. You head towards it, needing to stop at the Fence to sell a few things. You hitch Rannoch and walk over to Seamus, the man who runs the discrete operations. You trade a necklace, two bracelets and a couple of rings with him, coming out $30 dollars richer. You thank him and are just about to head out when you hear two men on the other side of the road discussing a wagon.

“Supposed to be here later today!” one of the men says excitedly.

“Didn’t you order that only three weeks ago?” the other says.

“Sure, but the catalog promised speedy delivery! Paid premium for it, too.”

“What was it again? A pistol?”

“Yeah! Gold double-action revolver! Been wantin’ one since I was a boy.”

“How’d you know it’s gonna be here today? What if the wagon’s late?”

The man speaking about the revolver pulls a paper out of his back pocket. “Got a letter from the stage company. Said they have a delivery from Annesburg, then they’re comin’ to Emerald Ranch. This company don’t mess around neither. They get things done quick.”

You head off towards Rannoch, thinking quickly. You dash off down towards camp, hoping you can find someone fast enough to do this job with. You’ve never robbed a wagon or a stage before; you don’t know the first thing about it. When you get to camp, you see Artemis, Arthur’s giant warhorse.

You hitch Rannoch next to her and jog into camp, looking for him. He approaches you from Dutch’s tent, looking sweaty but untouched.

“There ya are!” he says.

“How’d it go?” you ask.

“Fine, just fine. Had to shoot our way out of Valentine again.”

You put your hands on your hips, getting ready to shout at him again. He puts his hands up. “Don’t worry, sweetheart! Bill, Lenny and Karen were with me the whole time! I was never alone.”

“Well, good. Now, if you’re not too tired, I have something for you.”

He grabs your hand, walking with you towards the horses while you explain the wagon you’d heard about. When you finish, he rubs his chin thoughtfully.

“Well, what do you think?” you ask. “Delivery wagons often have lots of goods. Could be profitable.”

“Sounds like it might be worth the effort,” he says. “‘Sides, I been meaning to teach ya how to rob wagons and stages for a while. Just didn’t want to do a bank stage to be your first. But delivery wagons are easier. Less guarded.”

Strauss suddenly walks over, looking agitated.

“Herr Morgan,” he says quickly.

“Herr Strauss?”

“I need a favor of you involving a debt.”

Arthur starts shaking his head. “I told ya, Strauss. I ain’t doin’ that no more!”

“Please, Herr Morgan, it’s involving that family Micah vent after.”

Arthur glared at him. “What? Micah end up stealin’ half your money?”

“No, no. Turns out he beat the lender to death, but never retrieved the money. So now, naturally, the debt is on his wife.”

Arthur shakes his head again. “No, I ain’t doin’ yer dirty work no more, Strauss. Ask any of the other fellers here. Or have Micah do it again.”

“And have him kill the whole family?” Strauss says, looking shocked. “No, Herr Morgan. Dead debtors don’t have a good habit of paying. Besides, none of the others have your… vigor.”

“Strauss, I ain’t doin’ this anymore! How many times I gotta say it?!”

“Just this last one, please? I’ll give you 10% more.”

Arthur sighs heavily, brushing his hand over his chin.

“Fine. But this is the last one, Strauss. From now on, if ya start lendin’ money out, someone else can beat it out of ‘em.”

Strauss sniffed loudly. “If that’s what you have decided, Herr Morgan, then so be it. Thank you again.”

Strauss turns to leave without even giving you a glance.

“I thought he was a snake when I first met him,” you say. “Now I know he’s a snake.”

“Yeah, ain’t exactly shoar why Dutch picked him up.”

He hops on Artemis as you mount Rannoch. The two of you gallop up into the Heartlands and past Emerald Ranch. You’re not too familiar with what’s east of Emerald Ranch, so Arthur takes the lead. He takes you northeast, stopping on a small slope looking over a T-intersection in the road. In the distance, you can hear the roaring of the Kamassa River.

“Wagon will probably stop through here,” Arthur says, putting a black bandana over his face. You realize you don’t have anything like that, and you’re just about to ask if he has a spare when he hands you a green one. You tie it quickly around your head, hiding most of your face. You tip your hat slightly to shade it better.

“You got that new rifle I gave ya?” he asked.

You pull out your bolt action, pointing the barrel towards the sky. He nods approvingly, grabbing his Springfield.

You both wait patiently for nearly a quarter of an hour. You’re starting to worry that maybe you missed it when you hear the sound of several horses coming your way from the direction of the river.

“Get ready, sweetheart,” Arthur instructs. “Just follow my lead, and don’t use names! If you need to address me, call me Mr. M.”

You agree and take a deep breath. Coming around the bend in the trail, you see a wagon driven by four large horses. On the stage is a driver and one other man beside him, holding a rifle.

When they get closer, Arthur kicks Artemis into action. You make Rannoch follow her, holding on tight to your rifle.

Arthur shouts, pointing his Springfield at the driver. “Stop the damn coach!”

You follow his lead and point your rifle at the man accompanying the driver. The driver pulls the stage to a stop and they both put their hands up.

“We got nothing important in here, mister!” the driver yells. “We’re just a delivery wagon!”

“Get off the damn wagon!” Arthur shouts. The two obey him and hop off, standing beside the trail. Arthur dismounts Artemis and approaches the wagon.

“Keep an eye on them, miss,” he says to you. You aim your gun at the two men, watching them carefully.

Just as Arthur is about to hop into the back of the wagon, you see the driver’s companion point his rifle at his back. You shoot your bolt action, the bullet striking the rifle and knocking it from his hand. The two men scream and bolt off into the trees.

Arthur turns and watches them run. He tips his hat up slightly and puts his hands on his hips. “That was pathetic,” he says, pulling off his bandana. You do the same.

“I think you mean easy,” you say, hopping off Rannoch.

You climb into the wagon after Arthur and start going through different boxes and chests. He pulls out a gold double-action revolver with a white handle. You see the barrel and trigger of the gun have been delicately engraved, a doe carved into the white handle.

“That’s a fine pistol,” he says. He hands it to you. “You should have more than just yer sawed-off.”

You take it and admire the gun, then smile. You’re sure this is the same gun those two fools in Emerald Ranch were talking about.

“We can get ya an offhand holster next time we’re in town,” Arthur goes on as he searches through more crates. You place the pistol into your satchel and search with him. By the time you’re finished searching, you both come up with several items of jewelry, some liquor and cans of food, horse supplies, and even a case of gold leaf dishes. You haul your ill-gotten gains onto the horses and dash away from the scene before anyone can find you.

“Should we head to Emerald Ranch and sell these?” you ask.

“No. Let’s give it a few days. Pretty soon people will hear the delivery wagon’s been robbed, folks will be lookin’ for anyone selling these things.”

You nod your head, figuring Arthur knows best about this sort of thing. He turns to you, holding his loot to you.

“Darlin’, I gotta take care of that thing for Strauss. Will you take this back to camp?”

“You want me to come with you?”

He looks at you, his face has grown dark. “No, sweetheart. I don’t want ya to see me like that. I’ll meet ya at camp.”

You nod sadly, taking his loot. “Arthur, promise me this’ll be the last one.”

“I promise.”

He kicks Artemis into a canter, heading west towards Valentine. You watch him for a moment, feeling like your heart is about to break for him. You can tell he hates the work; beating and scaring people for a few bucks.

You arrive back at camp and donate several pieces of jewelry, some liquor and cans of food to the camp. Dutch watches you and nods approvingly when you finish. You wish you could think of something to give Arthur to lift his spirits. You’re sure he’s going to be miserable when he returns. You would be, after all, were you in his shoes.

You sit on your shared cot and pull out your journal, running your fingers fondly over the stamped leather. You open up to a blank page and do your best to draw an image of Copper, his dog. You spend a long time on it, trying to get the shapes and shading just right. After a while, you tear the page out, wishing it was better and that you had Arthur’s skill. You fold it neatly and put it on his pillow for him to find later. You walk over to the campfire and sit down, joining Javier and Sean in a song.

After nearly an hour, Arthur returns, hitching Artemis next to Rannoch. You watch him walk over to his tent, but then he disappears from your view. If you had been there, you would’ve seen him open the drawing and stare at it for several moments, a gentle smile creep over his face. You would’ve also seen him take the drawing and pack it into a small box you had never seen before, one that held his most valuable possessions, including his mother’s ring.

He plops down on the log next to you, draping an arm over your shoulders and pulling you into a hug.

“Thank you for the drawin’, darlin’,” he says, kissing your temple.

You’re a little surprised at how bold he’s being. He’s rarely this affectionate with you in front of the others, especially when Sean’s around. You can feel yourself blushing.

“You’re welcome,” you say.

Uncle sits down on the chair by the fire and starts singing, Javier strums the tune in his guitar and Sean joins in. After a line or two, Arthur starts up as well. Once again, you don’t know the words, so you just listen.

They finish their song with a bout of laughter, Sean carries on the longest. When he stops, he turns to you. “Now why don’t ya ever join in, Ms. Y/L/N? I don’t think I’ve ever heard ya even hum a tune before!”

You blush, taken a bit by surprise. “I don’t know any of these songs.”

“What?” he says loudly. “That’s ridiculous. I come from across the pond in Ireland, and I’ve heard them songs! Me da…”

“Not with the da again!” Arthur groans, his arm sliding down so his hand settles on your hip.

“Fine! Fine, I’m just sayin’ how come ya never heard t’ese songs before?”

You shrug your shoulders. “Where I come from, my family wasn’t very musical.”

That’s a lie. Your mother used to sing all the time when she was working. You used to sing, too, when you were really happy. You haven’t sung since your grandmother died. Since joining the gang, you’ve found yourself humming more often, but never singing. Besides, the last person you want to sing in front of is Sean MacGuire.

“Oh, come on!” he says, holding his arms up and out. “I bet ya know a few songs!”

“Well, go on, then,” Uncle says, taking a swig from his beer bottle. You blush harder as Charles sits down, pulling out his harmonica.

“Seriously,” you say almost pleading. “You don’t want to hear me sing. My cousin heard me humming once and said she was surprised all the animals in a ten-mile radius weren’t dead.”

“Yeah, well, yer cousin was a real piece o’ work,” Arthur says. “Sounds like she needed a good kick in the rear, ya ask me. Now come on. I bet ya have a nice voice.”

You put your face in your hands, terrified. What you had said about your cousin mocking you was true. You had been humming one time while trying to teach her how to garden. She had demandingly asked you to stop, saying your voice was the most hideous thing she’d ever heard. Ever since then, you’d lost all confidence in your singing abilities.

“Tell us,” Sean says. “Name a song y’know and I bet Charles or Javier knows da tune! They’ll start you off just fine.”

You bite your lip again. The pressure from the others is growing, and you know they won’t let up until you sing, even if you don’t want to. You remember a song your grandmother taught you when you were young. It’s short, but you always liked it. You look over at Charles and Javier, doubting either of them will know it.

“Either of you know the Sweetheart Tree?” you ask tentatively.

Charles shakes his head, but Javier smiles. “Ah, I think I heard that one being played by a street beggar playing for money! Does it go like this?” he plays a few lines on his guitar.

You nod your head. “That’s the one!”

“Well, go on then! Prove your sour ol’ cousin wrong!” Sean yells.

You take a deep breath and stare at the grass, flickering yellow and white with the reflections of the fire. You hesitatingly begin.

They say there’s a tree in the forest

A tree that will give you a sign

Come along with me

To the Sweetheart Tree

Come and carve your name next to mine

Your voice begins to grow in strength as you go on, caught up in the tune of Javier’s guitar and the memories of your grandmother, when you were young, happy and innocent. You’re surprised you remember it so easily as you move to the last bit.

They say if you kiss the right sweetheart

The one you’ve been waiting for

Big blossoms of white will burst into sight

And your love will be true evermore

You finish, the last note carrying on a bit. Javier does a fancy strum on his guitar before letting it go silent. The men around the fire sit silent for a few seconds before Sean’s face splits into a wide grin.

“Where’s your cousin live, Y/N?” he says.

“Why?” you ask.

“‘Cause I’d like to give her a good kick in the pants meself!”

“If ya think yer voice is bad,” Arthur chuckles. “Ya got impossibly high standards, sweetheart.”

You blush as Uncle jumps in. “I once heard this lovely maiden sing in a show. Sung some silly song about how great Saint Denis was. Think her name was Robin… something. Think she was Polish. Anyways, her voice was good and real nice, but everyone could tell she had training. I don’t think I ever heard someone untrained sing that well.”

“Oh my God,” you say, putting your face into your hands again. You definitely regret singing in front of them now. The praise is almost worse than the pressure. You hear Charles laugh briefly before he starts playing a tune on his harmonica. You’re glad he’s playing, the others are starting to hum along with him. After a few moments, Arthur gently squeezes your hip.

“C’mon, darlin’,” he whispers. “Come with me.”

He takes your hand and leads you off towards the water of the lake. You think he’s going to start talking to you when you reach the shore. Instead, he pulls you into a tight hug, burying your face into his chest. You feel his cheek rest on your head. You don’t mind this, not at all. He smells familiar; comforting. You fold your arms around his waist.

“This is nice,” you mumble. “But what’s it for?”

“Just because I can and I want to, a’right?” he says quietly. After a moment, he adds in. “I’d love to hear ya sing more.”

“You’re sweet, Arthur, but you’re a bad liar.”

He takes your shoulders and pulls you away for a moment. “Ain’t lyin’ to ya, love. I ain’t never lied to ya. I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are and how much I appreciate ya.”

You blush and look down, biting your lip. You want to believe him so bad, this man who has had a profound effect on your life and you love so deeply, but you can’t shake the nagging voice in the back of your head. The one that keeps telling you that you’re impossible to love.

“Give it time, Arthur,” you mutter. “Eventually, you’re gonna get tired of me. I’m used to it, though, so don’t worry about hurting me.”

His finger comes up under your chin, pushing your face up gently so he can stare into your eyes.

“I ain’t never gonna get tired of ya,” he says sadly. “I wish ya could see how wonderful ya are. Everyday I’m with ya, I love ya more and more.”

He leans down and kisses you gently, his hand settling on your back, his other one behind your neck. He pulls away and whispers in your ear. “I’m gonna tell ya everyday how beautiful you are until you finally believe it, then I’m gonna keep on tellin’ ya. I love you, Y/N.”

You feel your eyes sting with tears. You press your forehead into his, looping your arms around his neck. He kisses your forehead and then pulls your head into the crook of his neck, his arms nearly crushing you with how tight he holds you as you listen to the steady beating of his heart.

You stare off into the water, watching the reflections of the moon break apart and shatter on its surface. You can still hear the others from the fire talking, the sound of Javier’s guitar mingling among their voices. Somewhere in the trees, a lone owl hoots. You could stay like this forever.

The next morning, Arthur wakes you up earlier than usual. He greets you with a cup of coffee.

“Mornin’, sweetheart,” he says as you take it, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

“Mornin’, Arthur. What you getting me up so early for?”

He smiles and sits down next to you. “Just thought we should go out on a huntin’ trip. Just you and me. Felt like we ain’t done that since we left Horseshoe Overlook.”

You sip your drink, the heat waking you up. “Sounds good. Where you thinkin’ of going?”

He sits a moment and thinks. “Well, why don’t you decide? We could go somewhere ya ain’t been before.”

You pause, remembering your dream from last night. You can remember seeing a large valley with purple flowers, rimmed by thick pine forests and misty mountains cloaked in snow. Ever since Arthur had taken you to Big Valley, you’ve been dreaming of it more often. You suggest going there again.

“I know we went a few weeks ago, but…” you pause. “It was so beautiful. I wouldn’t mind going there again. To be honest, I’ve missed the forests of West Elizabeth.”

He takes your hand and smiles. “That’s a’right. We can go there. Well, get ready and let’s go.”

You quickly finish your coffee and get up to start packing up some supplies. Just as you and Arthur are picking up cans of food from Pearson’s wagon, Hosea walks towards him, smoking his pipe. He greets you fondly before turning to Arthur.

“I have a job for you, Arthur,” he says.

“What is it, Hosea?” he asks.

“We’re going to sell that moonshine you got from the Greys back to where it came from.”

“And where’s that exactly?”

“The Braithwaites.”

Arthur laughs. “You always had a knack for huckling people, old man! I’d love to do this with ya, but I already promised the next couple of days to Y/N here.”

Hosea nods with a wide smile. “I understand. Well, unfortunately I think you’re the only man suited to help me with this. Dutch has got John on some other job. I’ll wait for ya to come back.”

He pats Arthur on the shoulder and walks away, coughing slightly. Arthur chuckles.

“That man with his schemes.”

“If anyone can pull off something like that,” you say,” It’s Hosea.”

You both finish packing up your provisions and mount your horses before riding into Rhodes. Arthur leads you to the train station and buys two tickets to a place called Wallace Station, which he says isn’t too far from Big Valley.

You only have to wait a short while for the train to arrive at the station. Arthur boards it behind you and you take a seat next to a window.

“I’ve never ridden a train,” you admit.

“Seriously?” Arthur asks, almost disbelieving. You nod. “Well, they’re certainly a lot quicker and more comfortable than ridin’ on a horse.”

He drapes an arm over your shoulder as the train begins to move. You’re amazed by how quickly the land slides past you. You watch for a while as the outside world changes from the orange and bright greens of Lemoyne to the soft greens and blues of New Hanover. The swaying of the train is beginning to make you feel tired. You turn and rest your head on Arthur’s shoulder, falling asleep against him.

After a while, he wakes you up, whispering that you’ve arrived. You open your eyes and look outside, spotting thick pines and willow bushes. You almost leap up, desperate to get into familiar territory again. Arthur laughs as he follows you outside.

You step out onto the gravel of the train tracks, then spot Rannoch coming towards you. He neighs happily and you dash up to him, petting his nose fondly.

Arthur mounts Artemis. “Well, let’s go. Big Valley is just over that rise there.”

You do as he tells you, patting Rannoch on the neck, and follow him. You trot through the trees, breathing in the intoxicating scent of pines, sage and earth. How you’ve missed it!

You break out of the trees and step into the sunlight, drinking in the view of Big Valley with the little stream winding its way through the grass. You look at Arthur, who’s smiling at you.

“What?” you say.

“Nothing,” he says. “You just look happy.”

“I am. This is wonderful, Arthur.”

The next few hours, you both wander the valley and the surrounding forest hunting game and finding herbs. You even find a chest, buried beneath the surface of the soil, with an old arrowhead inside. You pocket it.

As evening begins to fall, a dark storm begins to roll over the valley, threatening lightning and buckets of rain. You look up at the black sky just as Arthur approaches you, throwing a coyote pelt over Artemis.

“You wanna head into Strawberry? Get a hotel room?” he asks.

You look at him. “You sure? It’s not like this is the first storm we’ve slept in a storm.”

“I know,” he shrugs his shoulders. “Well, you decide.”

You look up again. The sky really doesn’t look friendly and the wind’s picking up, the temperature dropping horribly fast.

“Yeah, alright. Let’s go to Strawberry.”

You canter alongside Arthur, heading into the rustic town settled around the river. Arthur leads you over to the saloon and buys you dinner, ignoring your protests with a smirk. When you’re done, he leads you over to the hotel and buys a room and a bath. You look at him curiously.

“Just gonna take one before bed,” he explains.

You walk up the stairs with Arthur, your eyes raking over the beautiful architecture. Arthur takes your hand and kisses it before heading off to the washroom.

You head into your shared room. There’s a single bed, but it’s fairly large. A nice change from sharing the single cot. A few lanterns light the cozy room. You look out the window and see the rain has started to come down in icy sheets. You sit down on the bed, staring out the window.

While Arthur’s in the bath, you find yourself imagining being in there with him, which takes you back to that day in the trees when he had touched you. You find your face growing warm at the memory, along with other body parts. You suddenly feel like you want to take things further, even though you’ve really no idea how to do it. The only time you’ve ever done it was with your husband, and he’d forced himself onto and into you every time. You remind yourself that Arthur would certainly be different.

Arthur walks into the room, his hair damp, bringing the smell of soap and water with him.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he says.

You say nothing, biting your lip instead. You decide to just show him what you want to do instead since your voice doesn’t seem to want to work. You walk up and kiss him deeply, your hand going over the back of his neck. He hums before pulling away.

“What was that for?” he asks quietly.

“I want…” you start to say, trying to figure out how to tell him. “I want you, Arthur.” Your other hand slides down his chest, trailing down his stomach and then finding the bulge of his pants. He takes in a sudden breath when you squeeze him gently.

“Ya shoar?” he asks gently. You nod and kiss him again.

“Let me know if there’s anything you don’t like, honey. I want ya to enjoy this.”

“I’m with you,” you mutter against his lips. “I think I’m going to enjoy this just fine.”

He suddenly starts walking you backwards towards the bed. You feel his hands start unbuttoning your shirt, gently pulling it off you before moving down to your pants. You help him, stripping off your boots until you stand in front of him wearing nothing but your undergarments.

Your hands move to him again, pulling off his coat, vest and ripping the buttons of his shirt to expose the red union suit beneath it. Within moments, that’s all he’s wearing. He approaches you and kisses you deeply. He reaches to you and lifts up your chemise, taking it off your body. He breaks the kiss to look down at your naked chest. You blush as he stares.

“Beautiful,” he mutters as he kisses you again. He starts kissing down your jaw, to your neck, your collarbone, making his way down until his lips find your nipple, making you suck in a deep breath. He guides you down onto the bed as he kisses and licks your sensitive tip. His hand finds your free breast, massaging it with his fingers. You groan when he gently pinches your nipple with his teeth, your hands tangling into his hair.

After a moment, his free hand moves down your stomach, leaving goose bumps in his wake. He pulls down your bloomers, making you blush again. You lie completely naked under him. He stops kissing you and looks at your body.

“Like I said, beautiful,” he smiles.

“I can’t wait to see how handsome you are,” you moan; you're breathing heavy already.

“I don’t know if I would use that word to describe me, but I’ll humor ya.”

He’s just about to start unbuttoning his union suit when you sit up and grab his hands. “Let me show you how handsome I think you are,” you whisper. He lowers his hands and stands up straight. You start opening his union suit, kissing every new inch of exposed skin. By the time you get to his lower half, his head’s tipped back as he groans. You undo the last few buttons, allowing his length to spring out. You can’t help but stare at it. It’s longer and thicker than your husband’s was, with a large single vein running down it. You take it in your hand and squeeze, causing him to growl. You feel it grow harder, so you start pumping it until it’s throbbing.

Arthur suddenly grabs you by the shoulders and pushes you down on the bed. A wild look has come in his eyes, one you’ve never seen before. You feel a bit worried for a moment, but then you start to relax when he starts kissing your neck again. His hands run down your body, over your hips and then down to your thighs. His hand reaches into your slit, finding you wet.

“That’s about right,” he moans into your ear.

His hands move to your thighs, gently pulling them apart. He hovers over you, planting one of his hands beside your shoulders. With the other, he guides his cock to brush against your entrance, teasing you.

“Arthur,” you moan. “Please.”

“Just wanted to make shoar yer ready, darlin’,” he whispers in your ear before kissing just below your ear. He suddenly sinks his length into you all the way to the hilt, filling you and making you gasp. You put your hands on his back, trying to hold onto him. He stays still for a moment, sitting inside of you before he finally pulls back and then slams into you. You start raking your nails across his back, which he doesn’t seem to mind. He winds his hand into your hair, his lips finding yours again as he thrusts himself into you.

He leans up slightly, grabbing one of your knees and pulling it up, throwing your leg over his shoulder as he pumps into you.

“Mm, Arthur,” you moan.

“I love those sounds you make,” he growls. His hands squeeze your hips, causing you to buck up into him. You plant your hands onto his chest, running your hands through the hair there.

His right hand suddenly leaves your hip, sliding down to your folds where he finds your core. He starts rubbing your clit, sending jolts all the way down to your toes, causing them to curl. He chuckles as you groan loudly, your hands sliding down to his hips and squeezing. He starts moving his fingers faster, bucking into you more wildly. Something starts growing in your chest, moving down into your ribs and then stopping in your stomach.

“Arthur,” you growl. “Please, more!”

He chuckles again, his deep laugh pushing you further. “As you wish, darlin’.”

He presses his hand harder into you, pumping his length deeper into you. That warm feeling in your stomach travels down between your legs, exploding and setting your nerves on fire. You gasp and yell out, your hair plastered against your neck as your feet curl against his back.

“That’s my girl!” Arthur growls. He rides out your waves, pumping himself harder into you. He leans back down and kisses your neck again, his bucking becoming more wild and less rhythmic. He groans loudly as you feel him throb inside you hard several times, his seed spilling into you.

You both lie there as his length begins to grow soft inside of you, his body relaxing on you, gasping for breath. After a moment, he gently pulls himself out of you and rolls over onto his back. You close your legs, feeling colder without his body on top of you. You roll over and curl into his side; his arm draping over you as you lay your head onto his chest.

“Mm, Arthur,” you say quietly as your hand tangles into his hair. “That was great.”

He kisses your forehead. “Glad I could be of service, ma’am.”

You lie against him, feeling suddenly exhausted but satisfied. He pulls the blanket over you both as the rain hammers on the roof. His hand settles across your back again, drawing light circles into your skin, sending you into a deep sleep.

#red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #rdr2 fanfic #arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x oc #arthur morgan x reader smut #nsft #Van Der Linde Gang #r* games #rockstar games #i'm awkward #second chances #please forgive my horrible nsft scene!

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creatorofclay · 5 years

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2019... What a year right? When I started in this fandom, I honestly didn't know what to expect. I had never RPed on Tumblr much before, except for within a group on ask blogs. I had never felt enough of a connection to a game or universe to really want to take that jump, but Simon was a start for me. I love Detroit and the universe that has been built here. Even if the canon can be a bit ridiculous at times, and blatantly obvious with it's symbolism, it's still one of my favorites that I've played and still love to play. This fandom has just been such an expansion on a world I already love and there's nothing that has compared.

Simon was the first, but really that blog is nothing compare to this one, all I've done and everyone I've met has truly driven me to be the very best I can be. I appreciate everyone here who is on the dash all the time, so crazy and so lovely.

ALL OF YOU LOVELY PEOPLE.

First of all, @an-unlikely-duo and @gracioustwin and two of the greatest people I know. You both have been there basically since the start of this blog and really, I don't think I'd even know who Elijah is without you both. Even though it's a different side to him, it's made it easy to make him more human and realistic. Plus having great muses to interact with helps ;)

I love you both more than anything. Just talking and joking around like we do, gushing over silly things or just Neil's face. I'm truly blessed to know you and I know you guys feel the same. I'm just so incredibly thankful to know you and I hope we will be able to be friends for as long as the internet allows. I could scream my love for you from the mountains and it still wouldn't be enough.

To my lovely platonic spouse and absolute babe gremlin @rk800isalive . Eme, I adore you. You are so honest and so sweet and just completely amazing. I'm proud of you and everything you do because you just deserve it. Just... SCREAMING I LOVE YOU. I don't even know how to form the right words to say how much I just appreciate you and everything about you and all that you do??? You're so creative, most of what I've done just in the past months, I wouldn't have even DREAMED of without you. Connor actually being friends with Elijah? Can't imagine anyone but you. Demon AU and subsequent WAR? If it weren't for that one little "What if we connected it all?" I swear I wouldn't be having as much fun as I am. Such a delight and I just can't wait for M O R E.

AND THE OTHER PLATONIC SPOUSE @ruthlessnessisyourdesire ASH. Ash. Actually talking to you lately and being to really interact has been so great. You are just so wonderful and I am just so happy we are in this giant mess together. Your muses are so great and ?? There's just so much on the horizon, so many possibilities for us and I am so super pumped about them all!! The new year will be amazing for you, I believe it. I wish you nothing but the absolute, very best because you deserve it. You are so sweet and just so cool. BIG PREESH because you seem to juggle so much (even just more than one amazing character is so incredible to me, but the DEPTH in them is amazing on its own). Here's to the future and all the things we will write my friend! 🥂

I'm gonna sound like a broken record because man I'm just big love for everyone but god I'm trying. Just all of you take all of my love.

@theveryfirst Heather , I adore you and I am always so excited to see you pop up again. You know I love you and how happy I am for you. My thoughts are always with you, because you deserve to be able to just do what you love to do here and everywhere. 2019 started with you and me plotting the craziest thread, and still I of my favorites, so here's to all of the insanity 2020 will bring! Don't ever change because you are amazing.

@fearlessandchaotic ELY, I DONT THINK YOU'LL SEE THIS UNTIL YOU COME BACK BUT 😘😘😘. You. Are. Amazing. You've allowed me to really show a darker side to Elijah and even got him to try and be better about it. I feel so blessed to have such amazing people to write with this year. I know there is still so much we can do ans I really can't wait for it. You're so much fun to talk to and just write with. Just.. big love. Big heart eyes. Big appreciation.

And speaking of big heart eyes, @rxseguided another absolutely delightful person to have known and had pop up all year long. Look. You are amazing okay. First of all, Death is an incredible character and I can't believe that was like the second or third big ship on this blog. But, then there's Jesse. Jesse. The one to truly turn this cold man's heart of stone to mush. The best gift you could have given me was this blessed pairing of muses. I'm nervous to talk to people in general most of the time, so I'm just saying it now that it's been one of the most interesting ships to watch develop. And the tastiest slowburn. So thank you. Thank you for coming to me and continuing to come back. You're so much fun and I adore you too. Like I said, big heart eyes.

Also Eli. Eli is so fun. I love the back and forth of like maybe they can actually get along to no they will absolutely never get along. I love it all. AH. Just. That. AH.

@stayhuman-genevieve @musesdivine @diivinerose @perfected-first @dulcis-pythonissam @ninehartx @coffee-and-guns @vexeddetective @dogandroses for fear of becoming too redundant with my love because man this is all wordy enough, you are all absolutely great people who are fun and wonderful to talk to, who I am blessed to know, and who I sincerely look forward to ringing in the new year with. When hard times get you down, just know there's always a light in the dark to shine through uwu I love you guys all ♥️♥️

Slightly secret shout-out to @kingsunfury >w> shhh, it's ok. You know I'll love you until the sun burns out, and even beyond. Dragging you into my appreciation post because no one can stop me.

And to all the others I didn't mention, you guys are all MVPs in my book. Never forget that. Everyone here are great and I'm thankful to see you all on the dash.

@angelrk900 @phcking-prick-dbh @9th-in-a-line @jericholeader @ihavenoside @head-shot-60 @nightofthefall @chendetroit @detrcitmade @amyriadofmuses @overlyanalyticaltrash @that1badassbitch (I hope you are doing well, dear ♥️)

I feel like there's some others, but I promise you guys are great too. It's a struggle to remember everyone I've talked to and everyone who is still here. Thank you all for being here this year ♥️♥️♥️

#clay is in the kiln // ooc #big love to the dash #happy new year everyone uwu #♥️♥️♥️

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souoes · 5 years

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⌜ KIM TAEHYUNG | HE/HIM ⌟ —— SIWON RYU is a TWENTY FOUR year old DEMI MALE . they are located in DISTRICT FOUR where they are employed as an ESCORT . they are known to be AFFABLE & INTUITIVE , but they can also be GULLIBLE & DUPLICITOUS . ( popped bubblegum , glowing under the sun , purple-pink skylines , silk shirts left unbuttoned )

heyo ! i’m deni , she/her pronouns in the gmt+9 section of the world . i can’t keep an aesthetic and i use too many em dashes . below is one of the characters i’m bringing , SIWON , my favorite chaotic sunflower . i have a habit of updating , adding and changing as i go . apologies in advance for how messy all this is . looking forward to writing with you <3 !

🌹 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 .

➤ full name. siwon ryu ➤ date of birth. january 29th ➤ hometown. chicago , illinois ➤ gender. cis male ➤ sexual attraction. pansexual ➤ romantic attraction. pansexual ➤ occupations. escort , app developer , network manager at an internet cafe ➤ wants. family , power ➤ fears. imprisonment , humiliation

universal facts. scarfs down bean burritos like they’re gonna disappear , looks as comfortable in a dark , dirty alley as he does standing under all those warm lights in the velvet plush speakeasy . pockets full of candy and a lollipop between his lips . likes cheap beer and cigarettes , fast talking and smooth smiles . gets up when the sun goes down . who knows if he ever gets a full night’s sleep , but you can find him taking a nap just about anywhere . seems to live for the dark hours and stays busy as a bee , feels the rain on his skin , plays with matches . spray paints boobs on the sides of government buildings and dicks on malls . can do crazy math in his head and spot fake bills with incredible accuracy . can barely stand to sit still , always moving except when there’s a computer screen or an aquarium in front of him . gets addicted to things so easily it’s scary — people , food , liquor , feelings . craves that intimacy , craves that closeness . catches extra cash on the side by fixing up broken-down machines and can figure his way around a motor with a bit of elbow grease . fucking loves nature dude — takes care of plants and reptiles in his home . would die for snakes and lets them drape over him , claims they give the best hugs . has the best collection of vintage games and tech . punk ass wannabe .

personality. moody , sometimes downright irritable . but when he’s on he’s on --- could talk to a brick wall . holds himself with all the confidence of the sun and his smile burns just as bright . there’s this lazy intensity to everything he does . like , pretends he super cares but also doesn’t ? or pretends he cares so much but in reality couldn’t give a shit . affable , easy to get along with on a surface level , and he’s curious enough to keep any conversation going with questions and enthusiastic energy . mood changes on a dime , goes from grinning like a maniac to eerily calm in a snap of your fingers . intuitive and instinctive , listens to and follows his gut . trusts the energy in the air more than anyone’s word . comes off as thoughtless but it actually very cautious . impulsive doesn’t mean brainless . sniffs out bad situation fast and decides on a dime if he needs to run or face it . go with the flow kind of attitude . doesn’t take things personally . nice but trusting him’s an iffy situation . greedy — wants everything and anything .

appearance. stands around 5′11 . broad shoulders , slim hips . floppy , messy hair and glowing skin . half legs and half eyelashes . wears a small lip ring and has several miniature tattoos on his body . dresses anywhere between a washed up rockstar and your cool grandpa in the ‘40s . his closet’s a chaotic mix of anything he could thrift or patch together . most of the time , he’s sporting loose pants , a vintage blouse , a jacket or blazer and comfortable loafers . loud colors and prints alongside all black fits . believes in reinvention . kind of swims in his clothing because most of its’ two or three sizes too big . only wears skinny jeans when he wants something . shimmies into a suit with a snap of his fingers . keeps all that hair back with a bandana or a headband , silver bracelets on his wrist . nothing in his closet’s technically new and he loves looking for a bargain steal ——or simply just a steal . sometimes he’s jimi hendrix and other times he’s versace .

#nostraintro #. 𝐒𝐈𝐖𝐎𝐍 𝐑𝐘𝐔 ➤ DEVELOPMENT .

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piperdelaprim · 5 years

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Headcanon: If Piper made a coming out video (Piper x Tara)

[Yes lads, this is another Tiper piece, with a little bit of a different format. She won't mention her by name, but now you'll know who she's referring to.]

Also, to keep this shorter on the dash, I’ve added the “keep reading” cut after the intro! Sorry for not adding this before! Also this took me 2 months to finish it be like that sometimes tho

Piper: [mellow] Hi guys...

[After saying that shyly, she For about 10 seconds, Piper, while sitting down, stares at the camera and then shifts her focus to her laptop screen, examining how she looks with a rare casual outfit while contemplating on her next set of words.]

Piper: So I don't think anybody's ever gonna see this. I highly doubt in God's name that I'm ever gonna post this somewhere,

[Piper slightly chuckles at her own statement, but quickly shifts back to her serious tone]

Piper: ...but I have to say it. To somebody--er, somethin' rather.

[She chuckles once again]

Piper: As a lot of people know, I'm...well, not poor. I grew up very wealthy, and very fortunate.

Piper: [Her tone raises slightly] So damn fortunate that I got bored of it! [Yet another chuckle] Kiddin', kiddin', but I didn't feel like I had a life to live, uh, I didn't feel free, is a better way to say it. I kinda knew as a kid that I was missing a lil' somethin' in my life. Of course when I was a little child I didn't get this dang philosophical, but it was always there. And I know, I know. I pro'lly sound privileged as hell, but at the end of the day I'm grateful for everything I've endured thus far, but that's not the point here.

[Piper lets out a large sigh before continuing with her story]

Piper: My momma and poppa...though I love 'em to death, God bless their hearts, they wanted me to get married as soon as I can. I was...well...I ain't sure if this is how you say it but, conditioned to think that, that um...I was gonna get married...like a normal girl would! [Pause]

Piper: [Sarcastically] Well, I'm still not married!

[Piper pauses to drink the water cup beside her and then looks at the camera again for a couple moments before continuing]

Piper: And I really wasn't sure why I felt like nobody ever felt like they were...you know...the one! I mean, my life is already so dang crazy, I don't brawl for money or fame, but to, uh, release all the anger within me--to make up for all the times I couldn't resist what I was told to do. The funny thing is...I'm well over the adult age--and I still don't feel so free. I suppose I'm independent, but not exactly...free. If that makes sense.

[About to talk about the most serious part of her life, Piper lets out another big sigh]

Piper: I was set up with many different men by my family, and most of them were very kind and courteous toward me. They were all very good men, but fallin' in love with them was very hard for me to do--it ain't somethin' that came naturally. Well, I ain't been in love for a very very long time. Last time I was in love--it was many years ago--it didn't seem to work out, and lookin' back, it's hard for me to understand why things happened the way they did. Maybe it truly wasn't meant to be, I don't know, but the stars...didn't align. [quietly] They...uh...never did. But anyway, now it's a different time for the rest of the world; we're becomin' more open to each other and we're becomin' more accepting of things I couldn't have imagined being okay when I was growin' up. I'm talkin' about...being gay.

[Nervously, Piper laughs quietly to lighten the mood for herself]

Piper: Being gay, in my household and my family...was...unheard of. I'd like to say even forbidden. We're Christians and they said we can't be gay. I don't even know who the hell "they" is, but it was made sure of that I cannot be gay. It was even an insult I heard growin' up--and my, my, people thought it was a brutal word. Many of my classmates used to say it left n' right thinkin' that their dignities would be stripped for good! And frankly, because of the cruel world we live in, I thought bein' gay was weird, not normal, sinful even. 'Cause to everybody else it was, and I was predetermined to think the same.

[Piper suddenly starts smiling widely out of nowhere, and starts to chuckle, thinking fondly of the next thing she is about to say.]

Piper: Sorry! I get pretty damn giddy thinkin' about this part. I'm just...well I'll just tell you. So anyway, fast forward to present day. I brawled for the hell of it, just for fun. I thought I was straight but life didn't treat me very well.

[Piper suddenly remembers this aspect of her life and the mood shifts back to its original serious tone, but slightly more mellow.]

Piper: I got shit everyday. Sometimes just for breathin'. And it sucked for me. I didn't fit in because people were scared o' me. I was lonely, I was sad, I was...empty to the point where I thought disappearin' would be the answer. It wasn't great to be me at the time. There were such beautiful people havin' the time of their lives out in the battlefield--some o' them so madly in love with either each other or with life as a whole. And I was as jealous as a girl could be. I wanted that so darn badly that my anger built up too much to the point where I just shut everyone out. I also became too violent out in the battlefield and accidentally physically hurt too many people that didn't deserve a scratch. It began to all be too much.

[Piper then remembered the good part about her story, and she starts smiling brightly once again]

Piper: Anyway, this is what you’ve been waiting for, them little happy moments! It’s still a secret, sorta. But at least I can talk about it. So, um, I met this lovely lady in town one day, and I was feelin’ kinda hopeless so I went to talk to her about stuff, ‘cause I had no one. I thought I was a lil mad for just goin’ to some random stranger and ask ‘em about what I should do about my sad ol’ life. And to my surprise she read me like a book...with her cards! [laughs] It was crazy! She just clicked with me so fast, it was somethin’ I never felt before. You know, it made my heart race a lil.

[She laughs again, except more nervously]

Piper: I’m actually a little nervous right now talkin' about her 'cause it's so scary but, obviously what we have was more than what meets the eye! [She laughs nervously again, but then continues to smile] I'm so nervous talkin' about this because it was against everythin' I knew. It didn't feel right at all, but my feelin's couldn't take it anymore. I was already so restricted in my normal life and everythin' prior to it, I couldn't let this opportunity to be happy go. Again, I thought I was a fool tellin' er how I felt. I mean, what if she wasn't...you know?! But like I said my own happiness was on the line. All the signs added up, for some odd reason I was confident enough that my chances were high. Ah, haha...my mom always taught me to shoot my shot...ahh she might be a lil' disappointed at me though! Well anyway, that new lovely lady with a mask told me she felt the same, and at that moment I never felt more free in my life. I was so scared to my stomach, I was scared of rejection, not only from her but from the rest of the world. Even though it felt so wrong to do, the feeling afterward felt so right.

[Piper takes a short breath and takes a sip of water.]

Piper: Well, I've been ramblin' and ramblin' but I will say this last thing. Love can fix a lot of things--not everythin', but a lot. I still got my issues, life ain't gonna be dandy forever just 'cause I found my lover, but consider this: do things because of love, doesn't gotta be that icky, cheesy type o' love that I was talkin' to you about, but it could be your family, your friends, whoever or whatever, alright! I realized I brawl 'cause I hated myself, not 'cause I loved the adrenaline or the glory. I also realized that I denied this part of me for so long cause I was scared, and I hated feelin' more outcasted than I usually had. I'm still tryin' my best to set myself free, but it's a process that became a little better for me to handle. Just don't do things outta hate or outta fear, it ain't good for you, it ain't good for nobody.

[Piper's cell phone rings, once she finishes her sentence, she picks it up]

Piper: [on the phone] Hey love! How much did you earn today? [She smiles as the person on the other end speaks] That's good. I would be more than happy help you if you wanted, it's what I should do for you, but you keep on sayin' no! [Inaudibly, the person on the other end speaks as she laughs happily]

Piper: [on the phone] I'll come by later for sure! I don't exactly need a readin' though, I'd just love to talk normally. Did you want to...

[Piper uses her cursor to stop the recording before she could finish her question to the person on the other side of the line.]

...

And scene. I hope you enjoyed it! This was a long time coming but I'm so happy I was able to finish it!

#brawl stars #brawl stars piper #brawl stars tara #tiper #brawl stars headcanon #headcanon #brawl stars headcanons

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truestory1929 · 4 years

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April 9th 2020

Final Blog 1979 to 1983 Emerson and Mary leaving the nest. After 1983 our house just went along just like everybody else!

Left to right back, Jamie, Me, Dad, Rita, front left, Emerson and Dorothy. This pic was just after we met our Father for the first time in 15 years!

THE FINAL BLOG! April 9th 2020

1979 to 1983

Emerson's leaving and Mary is moving in!

Well here we are January 1979, my oldest son brother Emerson is halfway through grade 12 and wondering what to do in June when he graduates. Emerson took Motor Mechanics in High School this trade is still with him today, saved him tons of money, but he never took it up as a career. We had rules in our house about education. First; education was more important than sports, two; you can live with us as long as you continue your education as long as you are progressing, this does not mean spending three years in grade 12, third and last; when the education is over, you live with us rent free for one year, get a job, save money for an apartment and move out. Otherwise we believe without these rules [ and we saw enough of it] your parents will charge you a small rental fee,then you will take your excess money and buy a fancy sport's car with big payments,and a big insurance bill and now go no where fast. This might be called tough love today. Especially because the average age of moving out is about 27 years old if you are lucky.

David joined T-ball last year, and Jason joined this year. Sports was not at the top of our list for raising kids. I only played back yard sports. We had a ball field out by the Saint John airport where the car rental company is now. We played a lot of flys and grounders, scrub etc. Pat Riley and Jim Daly both hitch hiked to the south end of Saint John and played Little League. We played pond hockey on Treadwell Lake. I really did love sports but because of my situation I just did not get there. I am not feeling sorry for myself, its just the way it was.The first year I was at my foster home, the boys in Johnson's road talked me into joining school boy hockey. I had no equipment and The Wood's [ my foster parents] where not interested in helping me. I bought old time hockey equipment from the Merzetti's.[ who owned Mutal Jobbing on Douglas avenue] You could use google today and find this hockey equipment from the 50's. Leather helmet, leather pants and size 10 skates when I was a size 8. I loved it, but hitchhiking to Simonds Centennial Arena in the dead of winter was brutal. I played about 10 games. I did not even know what an off side was and I would be standing down in front of the other teams net waiting for the puck before my team mate was across the blue line. After a couple of games I caught on after all the the screaming and yelling from the coach and the players. Its funny now to think back on this stuff. Murray Sewell was responsible for my kids getting into sports. Murray had his t-ball team practicing in the Glen Falls play ground [which was next door to our house]so David went over to see what was going on. He got David throwing the ball and Murray was impressed. Like in the Chevy movie "BING0" this guy could throw a ball voila sports was born into the Reynolds Family.Jean was a good athlete, basically a tom boy until she was 16 years old, then yahoo, the most beautiful girl I ever met, a real lady, dainty, sweet, kind, loving, supportive [ and I mean supportive, I had a lot of crazy ideas and she went along with them eventually]. She was always being picked to be on someone's team at he Allison grounds in Rockwood Court. So its in [watch for the pun] the Jeans! lol

Now lets go back to the Merzetti's. In my first year with my foster parents, Marion and Fred Woods, Jim Merzetti asked me if I wanted to make some extra money stocking shelves at Mutal Jobbing. Well sure I was always looking for ways to make money. I use to walk the ditches with Jimmy Daly for pop and beer bottles and we we an empty 50 lb burlap bag. We would take them Berry's store across from the airport and cash them in. Pile winter wood for neighbours, run errants for the neighbors, fish trout through the ice and sell them and even cut trees down from other people's land and sell them for christmas trees. We just got inside the door and this elderly gentleman walked in. MR. Merzetti who own the business introduced him to me, his name was Havelock Lane. Tall slim man very nice. Three years later after Jean and I started dating, she introduced me to her grandparents Havelock and Genavieve Lane! Yep, same guy!

Emerson graduated yahoo, big milestone for any Reynolds to graduate.You know I never said this before,I hated our last name, I swore I was going to change my name when I grew up. We used to get "ren-hole" because we we so dirty and so poor, an I'm sure we were stinky. How do you bath in the winter and wash clothes when I filled the washer up every morning to supply water for Mom for the day out of Treadwell Lake? I remember when I graduated I thought I died and went to heaven! Emerson decided to go to NBCC and Take the one year plumbing course. We were very proud of him wanting to continue his education. This will make the fourth Reynolds to go to NBCC. Myself, Dorothy and Jamie also graduated from NBCC. He passed in flying colors. He never took up Motor mechanics or plumbing as a career trade, but has saved himself lots of money doing both. Who really knows what you want to do for a living for the rest of your life? Every person I know [and I know a lot of people] are not doing what they thought they might do after the education is over with one exception, My son David, he knew he wanted to be a Doctor in grade 6. Emerson had done many jobs, each jog shaping his skills and shaping his well being. He has found his niche in Ventilation, he is at the top of his game, he is in upper managment, he creates multi-million dollar bids for his company, he is well respected in his company and his field of expertise! Emerson never took us up on the offer to stay rent free for a year. NBCC let him graduate early as he had a job with Bob Duplussis Plumbing company. Moved out and into his own apartment on Michael Crescent all by the time of his 21st birthday on June 5th 1980. Emerson lived with us for 7 years. He is my oldest son, he is a big brother to my three sons. It was a hell of a run Em!

Ben now has got into the sports world He joined t-ball this year. Jean is trying to get her drivers licence. Jean is very nervous about theses things. She is now 30 years old. I work shift work so I am not around to drive the kids to their sports for every game. We are going nuts, we have friends and neighbours helping us with driving to and from ball and hockey venues. Kudos to the Sewell's, Goguens, Allaby's, Carson's, White's, Mclaughlin's, Hutchinson's, Doiron's, Stevens, and many more for helping with picking up and delivering our kids to and from the rinks and ball fields. I was driving a 1974 Pontiac Lemans at the time. Big car, Jean failed two road tests up to this point. The car was too big for parallel parking , combine that with Jean's nerves it was useless. Okay new plan, I called rent-a-wreck to see if I could rent a small car for her to take road test. They said no [remember no speaker phone] as their insurance only covers the driver. I said okay, [I never told Jean the whole conversation] come on Jean we are going to get a small car for you. I told her she could sit in our the car until I got the rental car, I was not making any mistakes about blowing my scam. I rented an AMC pacer, nice and small, easy to parallel park etc. I left my car in the parking lot and drove home, we already had the appointment made. Jean said she would need to take a valium to calm her nerves just before we leave. The road test was in the West Side Motor vehicle. Now the examiner always asked for the permit and car registation. The registration was just a photo copy. In these AMC pacers they hasd a tray that ran the entire width of the car under the dash. So I told Jean that it was just laying under the glove box where he could see it, praying that he would not pick it up. Remember Jean has no idea that this whole thing is illegal. Well she took the test and passed in flying colors. Yahoo Jean has her licence, I told Jean the whole story after we got home. The colr drained from her face.

Okay, we are starting to finish chapters and start a new one. David finally gets his own room at 9 years old after Emerson moved out. We asked him how he wanted his room done. He wanted wallpaper with the old vintage airplanes, De Havilland's etc. We bought him a Captains bed and painted the room. That was one happy kid yahoo! Well the yahoo did not last long. Around Christmas time we got a call from Jean's mother who was living in Montreal at the time. We had just got settled in bed for the night, its was around midnight when the phone rang. We turned on the bedroom lights and Jean proceeded to talk to her mother. No speaker phone then, but I gathered it was Vera. Jean hung up and said her mother was crying and broken hearted. I asked her what was the matter and she said that Mary needed a place to stay until she graduated from high school.[ Quebec passed a new law that year requiring all students to finish their education in French only. Mary was taking hairdressing. Bill 101 was enacted on August 26, 1977. The bill basically was made to ensure the Province of Quebec became totally French speaking only. The top jobs at the time were held by English speaking Canadians. Bill 101 was to make schooling in French only up to high school. All signages were to be in French only. Then in 1980 they decided that the high schools were to be French only too. Mary needed to move back to Saint John to finish high school.] Jean said her mom wanted us to talk it over and call her back tommorrow. I told Jean call your mom back right now. You were the one who decided to take in Emerson for me. If you said no it was no. Now it is my turn, we are taking her in. Jean called Vera back and told her we would take care of Mary, and that was that. Now we have to tell David that he will have to move back in the laundry room for at least three years. Poor David, as sad as he was he never complained, he went about his business as usual. He might have said something to his brothers but not us? Mary was in grade eleven and will be going to Saint John Vocational School. Something I forgot to say about Emerson, he did a lot of babysitting, he made his own money as he was a member of the Miltia since he was 16 years old, and bought us very nice gifts [Thanks Em] Okay now, Mary was the same, she helped Jean around the house, she baby sat and made life for us as easy as possible. Mary was 17 years old when she moved in.

Well Mary graduated in flying colors in June 1982. Mary decided that she really did not want to be a hairdresser. Jean was working at the Top of the Town restaurant. This was located on Main st. on the roof of Keddys Hotel. I talked to the superviser of the down stairs coffee shop and dining room off the main hotel lobby and was able to talk her into hiring Mary as a cashier. She eventually became a waittress. Jean introduced Tony Kane to Mary. Tony was working in the banquet department. The next year I got her an apartment in east Saint John and her and Tony moved in together. Mary moved out the end of September 1983. Before she moved out I got Mary to teach me how to cut hair.[ I just cut Jeans hair yesterday as we are quarantined]. David is now 12, Jason is 11 and Ben is 6. cutting their hair became another job for me for years to come. Emerson was getting married on Oct 8 1983. I was the best man at the wedding. It was a blast. When we got home we found our house was in shambles. Some one broke into our home and ransacked the place, stole our stereo system and all my 8mm home movies from 1979 to 1983, Christmases, birthday, sporting events etc. We were heart broken. You never really get over something like that. It was like somebody tearing your heart out.

Well David gets his room back again, he is now 12 years old. You are a good man David.We have been married now for 13 years Dec 12, 1983. We started this journey moving people into our home in 1973, two and half years after we were married. We were married December 12 1970. We will be married 50 years this December. We were going to go on a cruise, but we think in lieu of what is happening right now with the coronavirus that cruising is out for a long time for us. We have no desire to even fly overseas. We will stick to North America thank you very much!

This will be my last blog, hope you guys found something that interested you. I can't sign out before I mention the foster parents. May of 1967 I went to Fred and Marion Wood on Johnson Road, where I grew up with their youngest son Gerald. He introduced me to motorcycles, he would let me ride all of them, he had 4 different bikes in my time there. I never had an older brother so now I do. Gerald or Woody which he prefer, we still bike around today. Dorothy and Emerson went to the Donnie and Jean Armstrong's, god bless them they 7 kids of their own. Jamie went to the Baxters Len and Mertle, who had at least 8 kids of their own.[The Baxters and the Armstrongs lived across from each other on the Loch Lomond road beside the Norris road.] Then Emerson went to the Morris's, and Dorothy went to the Websters. Then Emerson went back to the Armstrongs and then to me and Jean May 9th 1973. So from May 1967 to May 1973 Emerson moved 4 times in 6 years. Dorothy then went to Godin's and then to our place on Cooks Lake road off the Norris Road in August 1975 to attend NBCC. We lived in a small house we were renting from Dawn and Vince Dempsey. They were our Landlord and Landlady for our first 7 years of our marriage. After Dorothy graduated she and her boyfriend, John Sullivan, got an apartment on the Loch Lomond Road. People can say all they want about foster parents, some good stuff and some bad stuff. Without them, where would we be today. Mr amd Mrs. Wood taught me every thing I know. learned manners, building, [ I used all the tools to build an addition on the back of their house. which launched me into the Oil Refinery], I learned how to plAy chess, learned how to play a guitar etc. We had three square meals a day, we were warm, were clothed, we had it all. Yes we were separated, yes the love was not the same as we got from mom. But man, these people took us into their homes and took care of us. We were backward, dirty, angry, at times just plain bad, neglected, dressed in rags, if you can think of it that was us, but they took us in anyway, GOD BLESS YOU ALL!

I wanted my grandchildren to have some history about their grandparents and their parents. I knew nothing about my grandparents, little about my aunts and uncles, cousins etc. They all lived in Nova Scotia. The only relatives that came to see us was Mom's parents Fred and Margie Hayter, they came in 1961 a year after Dad left, just for the day, and my Aunt Goldie in the late 70's at Todd Street in Glen falls. I started this project in the fall of 2013, I do not know where the time goes.I was going to quit a few times, I stopped writing for a while, but my grandkids urged me to finish. At times it seemed that I was just whining or feeling sorry for myself or sometimes it just made me sad. Thanks you for urging me on, it was good therapy for me, it made me realize how lucky we are, to have the family we have and all the good people I have met and all the things we have done! I am a lucky man to be so rich with LOVE!

I never thought I would live long enough to receive an old age check, we have been getting it three years now. Its great to be a Canadian. After living in USA for the last several winters you know how lucky you are. They do not have free health care [ I know what you are thinking its not free , we paid high income tax compared to the Americans but that was a good thing, just ask an American.] and we have the Old Age check. They do not have this. They have social security, which is based the same as our Canada Pension Plan, a working persons pension. [ notice I did not say working man's pension lol]. Our old age check is an awesome bonus. Canadians do not contribute financially to it, you only need to be 65 years old,and be a Canadian citizen for 5 years. Yahoo. I hope you all get to collect it someday.

We will continue to quarantine ourselves after our mandatory quarantine on April 15th. We may be carriers so we do not want to pass anything on to you. We will continue the 6 feet or 2 meters social distancing,and we will wear a mask when we are out. We will visit out in the yards at your place or ours for the good of all of us! We love you all very much!

Your grandparents Nana and Papa! oxoxoxoxoxoxoxo see you soon!

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inxcs · 5 years

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kim taehyung , 24 , he/him ------ hey , did i just see siwon ryu walking around the block ? oh ! yes ! the last time i saw him , i heard he wanted to be called siwon . people around say they are so endearing && inquisitive sometimes i wonder how they can be selfish && duplicitous . ( popped bubblegum , glowing under the sun , purple-pink skylines , patterned blouses )

heyo ! i’m deni , she/her pronouns in the gmt+9 section of the world . i can’t keep an aesthetic and i use too many em dashes . below is one of the characters i’m bringing , SIWON , my favorite problem sunflowers . i have some info and verse-specific information beneath , but i have a habit of updating , adding and changing as i go . apologies in advance for how messy all tis is . looking forward to writing with you <3 !

☀ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋 .

➤ full name. siwon ryu ➤ date of birth. january 29th ➤ hometown. toronto , canada ➤ gender. cis male ➤ sexual attraction. pansexual ➤ romantic attraction. pansexual ➤ wants. family , power ➤ fears. imprisonment , humiliation

universal facts. hustles at arcade halls , scarfs down burritos like they’re gonna disappear , looks as comfortable in a dark , dirty alley as he does standing under all those lights in the neon districts . pockets full of candy and a lollipop between his lips . likes cheap beer and cigarettes , fast talking and smooth smiles . gets up when the sun goes down . who knows if he ever gets a full night’s sleep , but you can find him taking a nap just about anywhere . seems to live for the dark hours and stays busy as a bee , feels the rain on his skin , plays with matches . spray paints boobs on the sides of government buildings and dicks on malls . can do crazy math in his head and spot fake bills with incredible accuracy . can barely stand to sit still , always moving except when there’s a computer screen or an aquarium in front of him . gets addicted to things so easily it’s scary — people , food , liquor , feelings . craves that intimacy , craves that closeness . has a loud as fuck laugh and a love for sneaking into places where he doesn’t belong . catches extra cash on the side by fixing up broken-down machines and can figure his way around a motor with a bit of elbow grease . fucking loves nature dude --- takes care of plants and reptiles in his home . would die for snakes and lets them drape over him , claims they give the best hugs . vegetarian . would be a vegan but too lazy .

personality. loud , noisy . could talk to a brick wall . holds himself with all the confidence of the sun and his smile burns just as bright . there’s this lazy intensity to everything he does . like , pretends he super cares but also doesn’t ? or pretends he cares so much but in reality couldn’t give a shit . affable , easy to get along with on a surface level , and he’s curious enough to keep any conversation going with questions and enthusiastic energy . mood changes on a dime , goes from grinning like a maniac to eerily calm in a snap of your fingers . intuitive and instinctive , listens to and follows his gut . trusts the energy in the air more than anyone’s word . comes off as thoughtless but it actually very cautious . impulsive doesn’t mean brainless . sniffs out bad situation fast and decides on a dime if he needs to run or face it . go with the flow kind of attitude . doesn’t take things personally . nice but trusting him’s an iffy situation . greedy --- wants everything and anything .

appearance. stands around 5′11 . broad shoulders , slim hips . floppy , messy hair and glowing skin . half legs and a lot of eyelashes . wears no less than five charms on a daily basis and keeps his tarot cards with him at all times . rings , bracelets , necklaces , earrings , crystals , talismans . wears a small lip ring and has several runes tattooed on his body . dresses anywhere between a washed up rockstar , your college weed dealer , and your grandpa in the ‘40s . his closet’s a chaotic mix of anything he could thrift or patch together . most of the time , he’s sporting loose pants , a vintage blouse , a jacket or blazer and comfortable loafers . kind of swims in his clothing because most of its’ two or three sizes too big . only wears skinny jeans when he wants something . unironically wears cargo shorts in the summer . keeps all that hair back with a bandana or a headband , hairties on his wrist . nothing in his closet’s technically new and he loves looking for a bargain steal ——or simply just a steal . sometimes he’s jimi hendrix and other times he’s versace .

☀ 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄 .

⇀ kim taehyung , 24 , he/him ------ hey , did i just see siwon ryu walking around the block ? oh ! yes ! the last time i saw him , i heard he wanted to be called siwon . i hear they are a podcast host ╱ “psychic” . people around town say they are so endearing && generous sometimes i wonder how they can be selfish && duplicitous . ( beaded curtains , purple skies , tousled hair )

about. wrongly labeled a troublemaker after a little incident with some candles , pentagrams and a slightly burned down warehouse , siwon’s been on the road and seeing te road ever since . makes a few quick bucks tapping into that aura of his that somehow magically nudges his brain about who’s got what on their minds and what might happen to those what’s , but no one really seems to believe him when he says it’s all real . starting a podcast straight outta the back of a busted-up RV , siwon’s crossed the country and broke down in this little town . and , so . . . maybe some stuff he was involved with in the past wasn’t totally legal butthat’sokayokayhedoesn’tdothatanymore . ANYWAY--- this town . figures he’ll call it home . it’s groovy enough , he supposes , and after a few attempts to get out of town that just failed , siwon figures this is the universe telling him to settle down for a bit . so okay . his few listeners don’t mind , siwon still does some readings and random lectures on whatever’s on his brain . for extra cash , he does a few side gigs --- fixing up websites , selling crystals and rocks he finds , jobs around town that don’t require him to fork over any semi-serious documentation . takes scenic pictures for his instagram and documents the road-trip across this Great Wide Country he and his pets are seeing . let’s . . . let’s just see how this goes .

☀ 𝐌𝐔𝐋𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓𝐘 .

⇀ kim taehyung , 24 , he/him , toxokinesis ------ hey , did i just see siwon ryu walking around the block ? or was it poison ? it’s hard to tell , really , all i saw was the commotion , someone being saved . you know , i heard siwon is an app developer . i also heard they are a saint , really , so affable && generous , none of that mercurial && selfish nature people talk about . ( blackened veins , wild eyes , living for the applause )

about. after his parents volunteered him for “ quirk ” studies at a leading research institute , siwon’s been semiworking for the man . but it’s fine . it’s fine . totally fine . spending most of his early life in a tank waiting to be let out , siwon kept himself busy with plant pals , reptiles , and of course a computer screen --- everyone’s favorite parents . he’s developed websites and applications for the hero organization to help them locate and identify trouble around the city , a bridge between 911 services and the heroes themselves . at twenty-two , siwon created a popular app cataloging heroes and villains , a place for fans to post their own pictures of fights and fallouts , gossiping about which heroes were secretly in love and speculating about new faces behind the masks , then a megapopular game where people could play as their favorite heroes or villains to save ( or destroy ) a city . as poison , he wears no cape --- and in fact hasn’t even been seen since the site skyrocketed in popularity years ago . instead , siwon helps in the development of weapons using his poison and sends little , touching notes to baddies all over the world when he isn’t shuttling around on mercenary expeditions . he’ll ignore the mortal coil for now as long as they fly him first class ... he thinks . just hopes the organization doesn’t find his stash of supervillain fanfics . ikes .

☀ 𝟏𝟖𝟓𝟑 .

⇀ kim taehyung , 24 , he/him ------ hey , did i just see siwon ryu over there ? talk around town is that they are a witch , but i don’t believe any of that , no . they are just a con artist , endearing && generous . those are all just humors . like the people saying they were selfish && duplicitous . ( frayed tarot cards , three-piece suits , sticky fingers and a smile )

about. look who got himself invited into a magnate’s manor : a nobody who made a pretty penny from the opium trade ----- and who’s definitely not human . siwon’s bounced from city to city on his own , brewing and selling antidotes to unfortunate come-downs from the drugs that’s rotting them all from the inside out , but that’s only to sell more of that shit once the high’s gone . it’s enough to keep the rich happy enough . popular at parties , he performs as a spiritualist and fortune teller , snakes into conversations he shouldn’t be privy to and trades the information later . he’s a busy man , what can he say ? for someone who wants to be free from all of this , he enjoys parts of the lifestyle far too much . but maybe he should start making friends soon . attracting a lot of attention lately , and with rumors of animals around , even the “fake” witches like himself might find themselves in more trouble with the law . and now there’s the other trouble he’s found himself in . unfortunately caught swindling a vampire , siwon was forced into dealing with a group of witches and their opium trade for protection . now his clients are their’s . his product and profits , partly their’s . siwon’s in a whole other side of the criminal underground on the cusp of the victorian age --- and he doesn’t know what the fuck’s gonna happen .

☀ 𝟐𝟐𝟖𝟎 .

⇀ kim taehyung , 24 , he/him ------ hey , did i just see siwon ryu over there ? yes , oh my ! haven’t you heard ? it seems they have moved to level seven . makes sense , considering they’re a techie . rumor has it they are so affable && inquisitive but i know at heart they are just impulsive && mercurial . ( busted old radios , buzzing neons , sticky situations )

about. tba !

#. development ⇀ siwon ryu .#multivrseintro

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imyourliquor-youremypoison · 5 years

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A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 14

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

Word count: 2.4k

Part 13 <<< >>> Part 15

MASTERLIST

The streets of New York have never seemed shadier and less safe than tonight. Bella felt Emmeline’s unease and urged the pace, trying to reach their destination quicker. She had entered the address Ned texted her in maps, and now power walked through the city. She didn’t want to use a taxi, she needed the fresh air, despite feeling cold down to her very soul, she needed the quiet.

One would argue that the streets of New York, even at night and on Christmas day, were not quiet. But it was better than being trapped inside a taxi. It felt good to walk somewhere after having been taken from one place to another all day, wearing high heels and a dress. In comparison, her winter boots and jeans and sweater sure felt like the most comfortable thing she had ever worn.

“We’re here… I think,” she told Bella, who stopped in her tracks as soon as Emmeline turned towards the building harboring the right number. “The fourth floor, he said. The light is on at least.”

This building was nothing like what she was used to. The staircase was narrow, the walls needed a fresh layer of paint, the steps were uneven in places and the whole place smelled a bit weird, but she climbed up, preceded by Bella, up to the fourth floor. She stared at the doormat for the longest time, smiling to herself. It read Carpe Diem, the lettering surrounded by tacky blue flowers.

The door opened. She hadn’t even realized she had knocked, but soon, there was a tall woman standing before her, big glasses on her nose, long brown hair, a friendly smile that quickly dropped when she saw Emmeline’s bandage.

Em opened her mouth to say something but the woman – aunt May she presumed – was quicker.

“You must be Em,” she said. “Come on in, honey. It’s cold outside.”

May held the door open for her and Bella, smiling at the dog wagging its tail, not showing any animosity towards the friendly woman. For the first time in hours, Emmeline felt warm. As soon as she stepped inside this tiny, slightly cluttered apartment, she was hit by a wave of coziness and warmth that nearly made her cry again.

“I’m so sorry to intrude, I know it’s Christmas but I couldn’t reach Peter and I was worried so I decided to come by. I hope I’m not-“

“Easy there,” May laughed, giving a reassuring squeeze to her shoulder and offering to take her coat. Emmeline nodded and took of the garment, handing it to her host who hung it behind the door, along with her scarf. “You’re not intruding at all. Peter’s friends are always welcome here. Do you want something to drink? You look like you could do with some warming up. I’ll tell Peter you’re here.”

“I’d love a drink, yes,” she graciously accepts, wiping her palms on her jeans. Where to stand? What to do? Bella barked suddenly, making Emmeline jump back and clasp a hand over her heart.

“Oh, she must have sensed Tessa’s presence,” May explained, smiling as she filled the kettle with water. “Peppermint alright with you?”

Emmeline nodded. This was an out of body kind of experience; she had no idea what too do with herself.

“Sit down, please. I saw what happened tonight, you must be pretty shaken up. I’m sorry you had to go through that, but I’m glad Peter and you are both alright.” She offered her a sincere smile when handed her a mug with her tea. “I’ll be right back.”

May disappeared for a second, to get Peter. It was Emmeline’s chance to take a deep breath and look a bit around her. This place was full of life and memories. On the walls hung pictures of Peter when he was younger. There were trophies in a corner, and a medal too. He had won prizes at science fairs and whatnot. Emmeline smiled to herself. She had won her fair share of prizes too, but she didn’t know what happened to those – except that they were definitely not proudly displayed on her parents’ mantlepiece that’s for sure.

Peter came back alone; May must have thought they’d want a bit of privacy.

“Em, what- what are you doing here?” he stuttered out, still pulling down his sweater when he stumbled into the living room. He was coming out of the shower.

“Peter-“

Emmeline’s instinct was to pull on Bella’s leash to prevent her from growling up at Peter since she has never met him – a feat, really. How was it even possible that her dog and Peter had never seen each other?

Except the strangest thing happened: Bella didn’t start barking, or growling. Bella gently tugged on her leash and rolled on her back, asking for belly scratches from this perfect stranger.

It rose a red flag in Emmeline’s mind, and for some reason, she recalled what Dexter told him about having a shattered jaw. She suddenly remembered Peter’s unexplainable bruises, and how tired he always was. Spider-Man telling her that Peter was safe, even though she hadn’t mentioned his name. Peter knowing she was lactose intolerant when she hasn’t told him. She connected dots that she had no idea she even noted, she linked together seemingly unrelated events until she came to a conclusion that she wasn’t sure she liked at all. It was crazy. She had to be wrong. But was she?

Her eyes landed on his shirt, and she saw it. The tiniest, faintest trace of blood forming exactly where the thought Spider-Man had been shot.

“What the fuck?” she breathed out.

Peter flinched, having seen the look of recognition in her eyes. She had come here to appease her mind, not to unveil a secret she had no idea was there. A part of her saw Peter more clearly than she ever had before; another part felt the full impact of the betrayal she just found out about.

“Don’t freak out,” he told her, holding up his hands. “I can explain.”

“Can you, now?” she asked, barely holding it together. Was she going to cry or scream and throw a vase at him? Even she didn’t know. Oh, it would be a surprise then. “What explanation could possibly make this pill easier to swallow?”

Bella seemed confused about the lack of belly scratched and rolled over again, now looking for the other dog in the house. Em unhooked the leash without thinking, watching Bella dash towards another room. Yes, she wanted to storm out and never look back, but she also wanted to stay here. More than anything. She wanted to hold Peter in her arms, and find the reassurance she had come here to find.

Instead, she found this new mess to deal with.

“What the fuck, Peter?” she repeated. “Months! It lasted months!”

She didn’t need to explain what she was referring to. All the times he had visited her. Hell, he had visited her tonight. She had spent a whole five minutes crying into his chest. She had told him her secrets, she had trusted him, Spider-Man. Only to find out that he was the very person she was telling him about.

“Oh, my God,” Emmeline whispered to herself. “Oh, my God.”

Her fingers raked through her hair so hard it hurt her scalp but everything was too much, too much to deal with. She already had so much on her plate, how was she supposed to handle this too?

“It’s not a joke, is it? If it is, it’s sick, and you need to tell me right now,” she said, holding onto a shred of hope.

Peter slowly shook his head no, and Emmeline fell onto the sofa, unable to stand any longer.

“I’m sorry, I-“

“Don’t. Don’t serve me a stupid excuse.” It was impossible to pretend not to be disappointed and hurt. She didn’t even look at him. “You came tonight. You were on my balcony only an hour ago. I was worried sick that something happened to you when we got separated during the shooting. I tried to call you, I asked Ned to text me your address and I came all the way here just to make sure you were alright!” she suddenly shouted at him, eyes glistening with unshed tears. “You know that I hate to go out at night! You know because you’re fucking Spider-Man and you were there when I was assaulted in that alley! Couldn’t you let me know you are safe?”

Peter joined her, kneeling in front of her and trying to get her to meet his eyes.

“I didn’t mean to worry you, I tried to let you know I was okay, remember I told you-“

“Spider-Man told me you were evacuated by the police. That’s all I get? I was worried out of my mind! Anything could have happened! Anything! Dexter was nagging me about having been ditched by my date, the police wouldn’t let me through, I was all alone there, looking for you!”

“I’m sorry, Em. I never meant to hurt you.” It would make things a lot easier if he didn’t look so genuinely sorry, and Emmeline already regretted looking at him. It was easier being mad when she wasn’t looking. “My phone was destroyed in the chaos, and I needed to come back here quickly to let May know I was alive.”

“Does she know?”

“Yes. Ned knows too.” At last she was getting answers. It was as though the truth was pouring out of Peter’s mouth, finally. “But, Em, it’s a secret, you ha-“

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” she cut him off, annoyed that he would even suggest that she would. “Fuck you, Parker!”

He shot her a little crooked smile.

“That’s not what I was going to say. You have to understand why I didn’t tell you. I didn’t keep it from you for selfish reasons; the people who know are in danger because of it.”

“You’ve seen my life! When am I ever safe?” Emmeline countered, standing up and facing away from Peter now. “I told you so many things… private things…”

Spider-Man… or rather Peter’s words came rushing back to the forefront of her mind. I only exist to you when I’m here and not outside of this balcony. It wasn’t true. You talk to me the same way you would write in a journal you intend to burn once full. It couldn’t be true.

“And I kept them between us, didn’t I? Whatever you told Spider-Man, I never used it against you as Peter. Please, you have to see that, I didn’t deceive yo-“

“You took advantage of me, whether you like it or not,” she cut him off again. What he said made sense, but she didn’t want to listen to her sense of reason. “What did you expect, Peter? I’m curious. Did you think you could keep on leading two different lives and that I wouldn’t notice? Were you going to maintain two separate relationships with me?”

“No, I…” There was nothing to say, she wasn’t wrong. He hadn’t thought far enough ahead when he began to develop real feelings for her, and when he realized he was, he didn’t want to think about the consequences of his actions. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

“Well… I don’t know if I can look past what you did,” Emmeline sighed, feeling a stone drop inside of her. She felt like throwing up. She needed to get out of here. “Tell your aunt it was nice to meet her, and thank her for the tea. Bella, come here!”

She whistled and Bella came running on command, followed by Tessa who stopped by Peter’s feet while Emmeline hooked the leash back on Bella’s collar.

“No, wait,” Peter tried to stop her when she went for her coat. “Please, stay. Let’s talk this out.”

“I don’t want to talk to you, Peter. I can’t even look at you. Don’t try to see me again.”

Every word weighted heavy on her tongue, tasted like rust. She wanted to cry so badly. She wanted to stay in this warm and welcoming place and not have to go back to her empty, lifeless penthouse, where no one waited for her, where no one offered to make her a cup of tea to warm her up.

“Em- Em, please. Please, I didn’t mean to lie. You have to believe me, I’m sorry it came to this. I’m so sorry, I should have told you…”

She didn’t look at him, she didn’t even turn around as she wrapped her scarf around her neck.

“It applies to Spider-Man, too,” she said. “I don’t- I just….” A sigh. “Stay away from me. I need to be alone.”

Did she? Not really. But being alone was the closest thing to being safe for her. She was used to it; it was familiar. No one could hurt her, if she was alone. Still, it would have been difficult to miss the tremor in her voice, and Peter flinched upon seeing just how upset he had made her.

And out she walked, leaving Peter standing there, rubbing his neck, hitting his forehead against the door frame as soon as she was gone. Her perfume lingered in the air for a minute or so, and Tessa whined next to him, sensing that something was off.

“You need to fix this, Peter,” came May’s voice, soft and gentle, as always.

“You heard her,” he answered with a deep, hopeless sigh. “She doesn’t want to see me again.”

“She’ll come back towards you, trust me.” May came to stand by his side and smacked a kiss on top of his head. “Give her time, and then earn back her trust. Make sure to deserve it this time.”

“I really messed up.”

May only hummed slightly and closed the door, but Peter didn’t need confirmation. He needed Emmeline to forgive him.

Reblog to save a writer

TAGLIST: @of-virtuoso @justanothercynicalgenzkid @the-freefeather @complete-trash-101

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illkickyourbass · 6 years

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what’s up sluts, I went through a big loss today and hope to find comfort in imagining up some grief/comfort headcanons. I pass ‘em along to you in case you could use some sweetness, too.

RANMARU first, bc, u no, I’m predictable. He doesn’t trust his words as much as his actions. Now’s not the time for his grouchy bullshit, and he knows he’s blunt and rude even on his good days. But I bet he’d be very good about asking/offering physical comfort (if a little hesitant bc he’s still an emotionally constipated asshole, haha). A stiff pause before asking if you want a hug or if you’d like him to stay with you a little longer, softening his voice just for you. There’s an affirming patience to him, and he’s not going to prompt you for dirty details -- you’ll tell him when you’re ready, and his job is to make sure you know he’s there whenever that is. He’d insist on helping with self-care tasks, bringing you healthy snacks (lots of bananas!), texting reminders to drink water, maybe going a little overboard in more home-cooked meals than you can eat or doing housework for you before you even ask.

Definitely, absolutely, there’s a warm snuggly nap after you do finally cry it all out. And you can cry as much as you like, late into the night, well past what’s convenient, however long later after the source of the pain, and he’d just reliably, non-judgementally hear you out. He trusts you’re strong enough to heal on your own, but he’ll outright tell you it’s tough to see you in pain at all and he’d do whatever he can to help it pass.

OTOYA, sweet sunshine boy who’s persevered through his own steaming bowls of sadness, would have a great sense for when’s the time to offer optimism, and when’s the time to just be okay with being sad. I bet he’d lean on the side of “exercise is good for improving your mood” and encourage a brisk walk, kick a soccer ball around, something like that. He’d be a good listener, and it’s a toss-up if the advice he offers will be startlingly mature or his more sweet, innocent perspective on things. Either way, he plays his part of sunshine through the clouds well. I absolutely bet he gives you a nice private in-home concert with all his uplifting songs, especially Brand New Melody, encouraging you to sing along and get up on “stage” with him before hugging it all out. It’ll be tough facing the future, but there’s things worth looking forward to in it, and you can believe at least a little bit you can work to get them.

MASATO is my son and a very good boy, but he def gives me that vibe of “absolutely useless when he feels too many feelings,” which would 100% be the case if a loved one were grief-stricken. In a very, very earnest and well-meaning way, I think he’d stumble through every wrong decision. He finds out you went through something hard, and he awkwardly excuses himself from the room...but that’s because he’s running to make you your favorite tea, only to forget what it was. And he stiffly comes back into the room, embarrassed to hell, asking a very bewildered you, “Forgive my forgetfulness. Can I get you your favorite tea?” Things go similarly for a little bit ‘til you’re resigned to (if charmed and comforted by) these extremely well-meaning gestures he fumbles terribly bc he’s such a tryhard. Eventually, he confesses how badly he feels about fucking up, and when you let him know the meaning behind the gesture’s gotten through and helped, he can unwind and trust himself a little bit better and be a little more dashing. His words become more poetic, his actions get more effective, and you can open up and even laugh about the whole thing. And he’s so so sincere about helping you every step of the way, even thanking you for your trust. It’s a clumsy road to relief, but it’s lovely and soft in its own way.

REIJI is a goof but he’s sharp as a tack. Especially with someone fairly stoic, he’d suspect something was off for quite some time, but I think he’d try and act on that with being even hammier at first. Hints are dropped EVERYWHERE that you can call on him anytime, which gets into jokes full of compliments. Why’re you so reliable and cool that you never need him, huh? At this rate you’ll outdo even RanRan and Myu and Tokki for how strong you are! He’ll jump through so many hoops to squirrel a little joy out of you! But he’s sensitive and smart enough to know when that’s not the best thing he can do for you. I bet he’s crazy prescient -- maybe the day you break, he’s already at your door with a bento full of that Kotobuki kara-age, ready to stuff you with food and talk out your woes and offer mature, sincere advice that’s very personal. He’s been through his own earth-shattering losses, after all, and feeling closer and able to share those feelings probably helps him a lot, too. (And then, of course, would be all the silly sweetness we know and love from him -- he’s not going to let the conversation end without getting you to smile at least once!)

That’s all I’ve got in me -- I’m out of energy and I doubt I’ll get to the rest of the boys, but I hope these help a tad for whatever it is that ails you. :)

#headcanons #uta no prince sama #ranmaru kurosaki #otoya ittoki #masato hijirikawa #reiji kotobuki #long post

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axispheydra · 5 years

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Prompt 21 - Moment of Truth

Orara had seen merchants in Ul’dah set traps like this would would-be thieves. It was fairly simple- announce the thief had been caught, set out bait, and wait for the real thief to show up. It worked on stupid criminals, and Orara was pretty sure whoever stole the Free Company’s funds wasn’t that smart. After all, they’d used explosives to open the coffers instead of something actually subtle.

Ganzeidin was against the idea, mainly because the least thing he wanted was for anyone to be rooting around in the Company house for a second time, but Hastswys made him come around after she was convinced of Orara’s own innocence. So he’d called the Company together again and announced that the Yellow Jackets were on the thief’s tail, and that they had managed to regain some of the lost money via donations from other members. Then it was just a matter of waiting.

Orara and Hastswys were crouched in the shadows of one of the neighboring houses, where they’d been waiting since eighteenth bell, and might be waiting for many more.

“This is borin’ as all hells, Orara. Did you really do stuff like this in the Flames?” whispered Hastswys, shifting around in her hiding spot.

“A handful of times,” said Orara, watching the house through her telescope. “Usually you leave scouting to lower-ranked soldiers, but we don’t have that luxury. Please be quiet.”

“I’m just itchin’ for somethin’ to happen, is all.”

“Nothing might happen. We might be wrong. If you won’t be quiet, at least lower your voice.”

Haswys leaned in, frowning. “You’re gettin’ awful full of yourself for our Company’s newest member. Don’t forget who-”

“Sshh. Someone’s coming.”

Both women went silent as someone passed the walkway in front of them. It was a Roegadyn man, with long, dark hair. Neither of them recognized him, and he passed by without a glance towards the Company’s house.

Hastswys didn’t waste any time. “As I was sayin’,” she continued, still speaking in a loud whisper. “I dunno who put you in charge of this, but it wasn’t me.”

“I just have more experience with situations like this,” said Orara, picking up her telescope again. “Don’t I have the highest military rank in the Scarlet Skies?”

“Might be true, but I’m just sayin’ to watch yer attitude, lass.”

“I’m sorry,” said Orara, though she felt she wasn’t. “I know this is a difficult thing to deal with, and I just want- someone else is coming.”

Again, both parties quieted immediately. This time, they recognized the person who was crossing in front of their hiding spot.

“Is that Ibe’ir?” whispered Hastswys. “We heard back from him the other day, but we ain’t seen him since-”

“Quiet. Please,” said Orara, watching intently. If Ibe’ir was nervous, he didn’t show it. He walked slowly, whistling as he went, with his eyes straight ahead. It was possible he was just a good actor, but that would’ve meant he was playing his role for a long time.

“C’mon, let’s grab the bastard,” said Hastswys, beginning to stand as Ibe’ir entered the house.

Orara held out a hand. “Not yet. We need to catch him red-handed. That’s why we set a trap, remember?” A tripwire, drawn across the length of the room and tied to a pair of large bells. It was dark enough in the house that no one should’ve been able to spot it easily.

A minute passed. Another. And another. Hastswys drummed her fingers along the grip of her axe as Orara tried to endure her partner’s impatience. If Ibe’ir was guilty, it would happen any moment now.

Any moment now.

Any moment.

Now.

A clanging sound came from inside the house, and Hastswys was on her feet before Orara even had a sentence half-formed. She shouldered past the door before Orara was outside of their hiding spot, and already shouting at Ibe’ir before Orara crossed the threshhold.

“The fuck do you think you’re doing? Though you could come back for more?” came her voice from the back of the house.

“What’s going on?” responded Ibe’ir. “What happened?”

“I should be askin’ you that! Why the hell are you in this room, eh? You know what happened the other day! I oughta skin you right now!”

Orara made it into the room as fast as her short legs could carry her. She found Hastswys, axe drawn and advancing on Ibe’ir, who only had a knife at his belt. “Hastswys, don’t-”

“We took your suggestion before, Orara, but now we’re doin’ it our way,” she said, trying to corner the Miqo’te.

Although Ibe’ir kept his distance from Hastswys, his eyes were on Orara and the door the whole time. “Is either one of you gonna tell me what’s going on here?” he asked, hand hovering at his belt.

“You tell us,” growled Hastswys. “What’re you doin’ here, Ibe’ir?”

“I came to make sure everythin’ was okay! Ganzeidin called me and told me to check the place out, and it was pitch-dark! We just got robbed a few days ago, I wanted to know why there wasn’t no one here!”

"Ganzeidin didn’t say a damn thing to you! Don’t try an’ lie to me!”

“It’s the truth, honest! Hastswys, how long have we known each other, you know you can trust me!” He tried to smile, but the look he got from Hastswys cowed him. Instead, he turned his attention to Orara. “Why’s she here, anyhow?”

“The bait was my idea,” she answered. “We used to do this kind of thing back in Ul’dah.”

His eyes went wide with a mixture of anger and disbelief. “Bait? You think I’m the thief? Hastswys, you know how long I’ve been with the Skies, why the hells would I betray you now?”

“You were one of the ones sayin’ we should disband after the Spawnin’ Grounds!” she snapped. “And Orara told me what happened at the attacked caravan, too!”

Now his eyes were panicked. “A-alright, I know that don’t put me in a good light, but I swear I ain’t the thief! I ain’t so proud as to not admit I was wrong about things after the Spawnin’ Grounds, but you can’t blame a fella for gettin’ a little greedy once in a while!” His gaze suddenly focused on Orara, and her hand went for her gun. “‘Specially when some brat from Ul’dah starts orderin’ you around like she owns the damn place!”

“You were trying to steal from the dead!” she said, unable to control her own rising voice.

“And your kind steals from the livin’, so how do you get to judge? You Ul’dah bastards are all the same!”

Orara’s fists began to hurt from how tightly she clenched them. “My kind-?”

“That’s enough outta both of you!” shouted Hastswys. “Ibe’ir, I know you well enough to know you’re damn stupid enough to try and rob the same place twice in a row! And I know Orara well enough to know that she couldn’t commit a crime even if she wanted to!” She took another step towards Ibe’ir, who put his hand on the hilt of his blade in response. “You gonna come quietly, Ibe’ir?”

“You don’t wanna do this, Hastswys,” he said, in that same tone he’d used when threatening Orara.

“You don’t know how badly-”

A fourth voice made itself heard, its owner pushing Orara out of the doorway. “That’s enough. All of you.” All three turned to face Ganzeidin as he walked through the door, a cold expression on his face.

Hastswys was the first to speak up. “Ganze! You said me and Orara were-”

“I changed my mind,” he said. “It’s my Company, after all. If there’s a thief, I’ll be the one to wring the truth outta ‘em.”

Orara had never seen the man look or speak like that before. It almost frightened her.

“Ganzeidin, you know I wouldn’t do anythin’ like this to you!” said Ibe’ir. “You pulled me from a dark spot, I owe you too much!”

“I only know what I’m seein’, Ibe’ir. And what I see makes you look damn guilty.” He pointed at his sister and Orara before gesturing to the door. “You two, go stand guard outside. Not that he’ll be runnin’ anywhere.”

Orara took her turn to speak. “Ganzeidin, we should just turn him over to-”

“Did I fuckin’ stutter?” he roared. “Get yer arses out the door, now!”

She’d never been spoken to like that before, and she certainly didn’t appreciate it, but Orara left the room all the same. Hastswys didn’t put up an argument either. The two stood on opposite sides of the now-closed door, waiting.

“I don’t like this,” said Hastwys, voice low. “I’ve never seen Ganze like that before. I’m thinkin’ he might kill Ibe’ir.”

Orara kept her hand on her gun, still picturing Ganzeidin’s rage in her mind. “I hope not. We don’t know if Ibe’ir is really the guilty one.”

“You really think he ain’t? After all that?”

“I think it’s likely. But we don’t know for sure.” She looked up at Hastswys, giving a small smile. “If you know me that well, you’d know I don’t like to be quick to assume anymore.”

Hastswys gave a half-hearted smile in return. Behind the closed door, they could hear the muffed voices of Ganzeidin and Ibe’ir. “Anymore? What’s that mean?”

“Sometimes... things are just more complicated than they seem. And sometimes they’re more simple.” Orara gave a little sigh. “I just want to make sure I’m thinking things through-”

The explosion from Ganzeidin’s office- there could be no mistaking that sound- rattled the foundations of the house. Hastswys kicked the door open, axe drawn, and Orara dashed in after her, finger hovering over the trigger of her gun. The smoke was still clearing, but the image before them was unmistakable- Ganzeidin lay on the floor, clutching the arrow that protruded from his leg. The eastern wall of the room had been blown open, enough to cause a scene and provide an escape route. Ibe’ir was nowhere to be seen.

“What in Thal’s name happened here?” said Orara, trying to take it all in.

“Crazy bastard pulled a stick of dynamite from his belt!” growled Ganzeidin, hands running red with his own blood. “I tried to stop him, and he shot me! An’ here I thought he was dumb as shite, but he still pulled one over on me.”

“We gotta get him to a doctor, Orara,” said Hastswys. “The bleedin’ ain’t too bad, but we gotta make sure he ain’t nicked anythin’ vital. Go and fetch whoever’s standin’ guard, if they ain’t already runnin’ here at that sound.”

Orara’s train of thought came screeching to a halt as she nodded. “Right. Right!” she said, running from the room. Everything had played out so easily, and it definitely seemed like Ibe’ir was the thief they were hunting for.

There was just one detail that bothered Orara. It was true the room had been mostly dark, but she should’ve been able to see well enough.

Ibe’ir hadn’t been carrying his bow and arrows, had he?

“Sometimes, it’s more complicated...” she muttered, sprinting down Mist’s pathways.

#FFxivWrite2019 #ff14 #writing #orara ora #i gotta finish these earlier

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