#(i've found it counts for very little in this regard lol)

[thedevillionaire]

OC details: 🍎 [red apple], 🤔 [thinking face], 🖊️ [ballpoint pen], 💯[hundred points symbol] for the perennial couple and/or dealer’s choice.

A pleasure. �� 🍎 RED APPLE — where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace? Both were mortally born, so the transition to the Underworld definitely does away with any living in/around of birthplaces, but other than that... Cerberus - born in Oxford, UK, not that it would make much of a difference to things - harbours a strong distaste for the mortal realm and avoids it as much as he can. He'd probably enjoy it more than he thinks he would, really, these days, but he's unlikely to give it much of a chance. Kia - born in Sydney, Australia - quite liked it, and never left it, during mortal times. She moved a LOT, but stayed within the city itself. And she does go back still - either on the sly, to peek in at old friends, or for the Take (the Underworldian Vampiric blood-drinking deal), just because she knows the basic layout of some of it. 🤔 THINKING FACE — what are some of your oc's quirks/mannerisms? Literally the first thing to leap immediately to my mind is that Cerberus is a regular and very reliable employer of the pre-sneeze raised index finger. Does this count? Well. Anyway. Ahem. (Totally a mannerism. I'm keeping it. 😏) Kia is very tactile, and when she's excitedly engaged in conversation will nearly always reach over and touch the other person's hand whenever there's a particularly strong point of agreement. If you told her she did this, she'd deny it - she just doesn't consciously realise that she does it. 🖊️ BALLPOINT PEN — does your oc have any tattoos? do they want any (more) tattoos? 💯 HUNDRED POINTS SYMBOL — share three random facts about your oc that others may not know. Both of these are answered here!

[taevbears]

Pandora's Box

Keep a fire burning, however small; however hidden

⤑ pairing: Hoseok x reader ⤑ genre: angst, one-shot ⤑ rating: 18+ ⤑ word count: 3.1k ⤑ warnings: ANGST, mention of alcohol and drug use, depression, self-sabotage and unhealthy coping, non-explicit sex, unhappy ending. ⤑ note: Happy Hobi Day! I've been wanting to write a JITB-inspired fic for Hobi since forever (it's probably my favorite solo concept), and this idea has been sitting in my drafts since forever lol. I initially wanted it to be a scary one-shot, but it ended up being a very sad one-shot instead lol. I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

You notice it as soon as you walk in. 

Sitting on the coffee table is a box. Simple in design. Colored white.

You know that opening it, however, will unleash a whole myriad of demons you’re not ready to face.

The first is the one called Lust.

The fateful night you met Jung Hoseok is a blur. Music at the party you wound up in is so loud, you could feel the vibrations of the deep base through the walls. A hip-hop song is playing, but you could barely make out the lyrics over the thrumming booms of the stereo.

A haze of grey smoke fills the room, distinct with the acrid scent of cigarettes and weed. In the fog, you’ve found your friend sitting on the couch, curled up against the guy she’s been dating on and off. At the moment, the two of them are very much on again, making out with little regard to everyone and everything else around them.

In the meantime, you’ve lost count of how many times you’ve refilled the red, plastic cup in your hands, downing hard liquor and letting the alcohol burn your throat, but you go into the kitchen to get more.

That’s when you notice he’s been looking at you. When you catch his gaze, he offers a friendly smile. And when you return it, he approaches you.

“I’m Hoseok,” he introduces himself, raising his voice so you could hear him over the music and the chatter. He stands close enough that you could smell his cologne. A mix of woody tones with notes of spice and citrus. “What’s your name?”

He’s cute, you think, as you tell him your name. And funny, you add to yourself, as he later says something to make you laugh.

You like him, you realize as your hand finds his and you start to lead him upstairs to look for an empty room.

You don’t remember much about the night you met Hoseok. Can’t recall a word you said to each other, or what he did to make you fall for him so fast.

But even in your drunken haze, you remember the heat of his kiss, the way his fingers teasingly slipped beneath your clothes as you eagerly unbutton his pants, and the subtle bite of his lip when you push him to the bed and strip off the rest of your clothes.

“I like you, Hoseok,” you confess, cheeks flushed. Probably from the alcohol.

Hoseok chuckles.

He grabs your elbow and pulls you closer until you’re hovering over him. He kisses you one more time, so sweetly you think you could melt. Then, he suddenly flips you over with your back to the bed. A glint of mischief is in his eyes as he leans down over you.

“I think I like you too.”

The second is Greed.

After that night, you and Hoseok met up several times.

The first couple of times were almost repeats of the first night. You find each other at a party, seeming to share some of the same circles of friends and acquaintances. You could barely see straight when you hear Hoseok calling you, and you burst out in laughter because you’re genuinely surprised he remembers your name.

“Of course I remember you,” he assures you, flashing a bright, flirty smile. It almost falters with nerves when he asks, “Do you remember me?”

“How could I forget?” you tease back, taking his hand in yours again.

It feels better the second time. And by the third, when you’re just waking up from a throbbing headache, you’re surprised to see he’s still in the room with you, long after the party is over.

“I can give you a ride home if you want,” he offers. You have too much of a migraine to decline.

By the time he pulls up at your place, he gives you his number. Just in case you need to call him for another ride or anything else.

“Thanks, Hoseok.”

“No problem,” he replies, and there’s a look in his eyes that makes you feel uncomfortable. It’s kind. It’s hopeful. It’s something you’re not quite expecting from him. “Be sure to call me, okay?”

“Sure, Hoseok. Thanks again.”

He leaves it at that.

Even though you said you would, you don’t call him. Not until your friend dramatically breaks up with her boyfriend again and ditches you at a party out of town. Everyone else in your contacts is busy that night with work and other obligations. When you see his number, you hesitate for a brief moment before you tap to call.

“Hello?”

You instantly regret it. He sounds like he’s asleep.

“Actually, never mind. I can just call someone else,” you backtrack out loud, thinking, perhaps, a taxi or something would be a better idea. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“No, it’s fine,” he assures you, seeming to realize who is calling him in the middle of the night. “What’s wrong? Where are you?”

Hoseok drives all the way to get you. Even with the empty roads, it’s at least an hour drive one-way. It’s a sobering moment when he finally pulls up and greets you with a warm smile.

“Are you hungry? I can buy you food and pay for gas,” you offer once you’re in the car. You feel like you owe him that much.

“How about a date instead?” Hoseok counters, and again, he has that hopeful look in his eyes. “I’m not doing anything tomorrow night.”

If there was a perfect moment to tell him you aren’t interested in a relationship right now – that all the partying and drinking is to numb your mind from your own problems and stresses – this would be it. Clearly, he wouldn’t go out of his way and come this far if he isn’t interested in you.

And Hoseok seems like a good guy. You shouldn’t be stringing him along like this.

But you’re selfish. And that selfish part of you smiles and says, “Sounds good. What should I wear tomorrow?”

Next is Envy.

Jung Hoseok, as you’ve learned, has it all. A loving family with a pet dog. A close group of friends who are like a second family to him. A great sense of fashion, and talent in dancing that could make him a worldwide star. He’s passionate about the things he wants, driven for the things he wants to achieve, and humbled despite his ambitious achievements.

It becomes apparent to you, very early on in your relationship, that he’s a man out of your league. Someone too good to be true.

You’re… undeserving of someone like him.

“You’re so nice to me.”

Hoseok smiles, but looks a bit confused as he peers up from the menu. For the first date, he decided on something fancy. A dinner with a view, where the waiters serve imported wine, and the dishes look like edible pieces of art. You’re both dressed well, blending with the other couples and groups in the surrounding tables.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he asks you, a bit taken aback by your statement. “I like you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t,” you quietly counter. The insecurities are getting the best of you. While Hoseok could make a name for himself, you’re just a nobody. Lost in life and without ambition. You waste your days numbing yourself from the mundane and loneliness.

What could someone like you possibly offer to someone like him?

Then, Gluttony.

Honestly, for a while, you didn’t know what you and Hoseok were doing. When you first met him, there was only one thing you wanted. And somehow, that became something more.

Somehow, Hoseok continues to meet up with you and take you to nice places. He doesn’t expect sex from you every time either. It’s like he genuinely likes to hang out with you.

Once, he took you to an aquarium. You didn’t even think you cared about fishes and marine animals, but your eyes widen in awe when you see the luminescent glow of jellyfishes in the tanks. The corner of your lip lifts into a small smile when you see Hoseok clapping his hands and laughing when a sea lion claps its fins back at him. And you actually laughed when you dared Hoseok to touch a stingray at the petting station, and he nearly fainted when the tip of his fingers brushed against its back.

Another time, the two of you end up at a local diner after a party, a little drunk and a little high. The two of you order too many burgers and fries and decide to eat them by his car in the empty parking lot. Perhaps you were still intoxicated. Perhaps the food wasn’t doing anything to help you sober up fast enough, but you end up sharing more about yourself than you ever intended to that night. And Hoseok is quiet as he listens, not once judging you for every bad decision you’ve ever made. In fact, he tells you that he thinks the same sometimes – that he isn’t all rainbows and sunshine like you initially thought he’d be.

Then, there was the day he took you to the mall. He seems very adamant about couples clothes and making sure he matches with you whenever you two go out. It’s a bit embarrassing for you, if you were honest, but he seems to like it a lot when you’d color coordinate with him or if you’d wear the top for the matching set of his pants. An elderly woman is in line behind you two when you take a break from shopping to grab some pretzels and drinks when she comments that you look like a cute couple.

It hits you right then and there that you and Hoseok are a couple.

You’ve been showing up at his dance rehearsals and shows. He’s introduced you to his friends and you’ve all hung out at the beach. He comes to pick you up from work and take you to his place, which slowly but surely has a lot of your stuff in his space now.

Neither of you ever made the relationship official though. Yet, Hoseok smiles at the elderly woman, practically beaming as his hand tightens around yours and thanks her.

You don’t know what you are to Hoseok – if he really sees you as his girlfriend, someone he’s just dating but not that serious about, or maybe just a friend he’s intimate with – and you’re not sure what comes next.

The two of you find a spot to sit down, and you watch as he snaps pictures of the pretzels first before holding up the phone to take a picture of you and him together. As you pose for the camera, you could see how the two of you really do look like a couple. Matching clothes and all.

Whatever you are to Hoseok, and whatever he is to you, perhaps it’s okay to indulge in it while it still lasts. Even if a small, tiny, selfish part of you yearns for more.

And then, Wrath.

Since the beginning of your relationship, you’ve been quietly counting down the days until it’s over. When Hoseok would find someone else and move on, just like any other lover you’ve dated. He’s too good to you, too kind. And you’ve been heartbroken and jaded one too many times to know that an inevitable end will come.

Even when an anniversary becomes two.

Even when he introduces you to his parents, and has started looking for a house you can move in together.

Even when his friends start to tease him and ask when they can expect an invitation to his wedding with you.

You’ll always fuck it up somehow.

“I don’t know why you’re so angry with me,” Hoseok tells you, exasperated. His patience seems to be running thin. “Did I do something wrong?”

It’s frustrating for both of you. Your suspicions. Your insecurities. Nothing good happens to you. A little voice in your head nags that you don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him.

And there’s nothing he can do to prove to you otherwise.

“I think we need to end this,” you find yourself saying. Words that you don’t mean, but they fall out of your lips anyway. From self-sabotage. From pain. From fear. 

“You don’t mean that,” Hoseok calls your bluff. He doesn’t look angry or upset, but it seems like he expected this. The disappointment seems to hurt more than if he were to lash out on you.

Tears are brimming in your eyes, threatening to spill, but you refuse to cry. Not in front of him. You keep pushing him away, hoping he’d wake up and realize what you’ve always known – that he’s too good for you. That you’re the wrong person to share a future with.

“Just go,” you demand, your voice soft, barely a command.

You expect him to fight for you, like he always does. The back and forth breakups to make ups has become a vicious, toxic cycle lately.

“Fine.”

You’re stunned when you see him get off the couch and quickly walk out the door without another glance at you. This is what you want, right? It feels cruel to have expected him to stay.

And as your tears finally fall, a part of you – the part that truly, desperately loves him – hates you even more.

Sloth.

That is a demon that stayed with you the longest.

Your heart feels heavy after the fight. So heavy, it feels troublesome to move. To eat. To think. All you want to do is rot away in your bed and sleep.

“Come on,” Hoseok’s voice gently calls for you. He opens the blinds to your bedroom, letting sunlight spill in. “I got the bath ready for you. Let’s wash up and I’ll make you something to eat.”

You close your eyes again, scowling with your face pressed against the pillow. Maybe you’re dreaming. A hallucination of your lover that your mind imagined, prompting you to get up and face the world already.

Or maybe Hoseok is just really too kind.

You get your answer when you feel his hands pull you away from the safety of your covers, and he helps you to the bathroom. He's picked up the empty bottles of beer and soju that littered around the room, you note, seeing them neatly put in plastic bags. The warm water feels soothing against your skin, and you soon feel his fingers run through your hair and massage your scalp.

You don’t say anything to him then.

You don’t say anything as he helps you dress up into something comfortable and sits you at the table. Groceries you don’t remember buying sit on the counter. He must have gotten them before he stopped by.

It’s only after he sets down a bowl of stew he made that you finally speak.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask, your voice so soft, you don’t think he heard you.

You’re undeserving of this. You’re undeserving of him.

Even now, that little voice in your head taunts that.

“I like you,” Hoseok simply answers, sitting next to you with his own bowl. There’s a sad smile on his face as he continues, “Even if you don’t feel the same.”

You sniffle. The part that loves him wants to scream that he’s wrong.

But the tiresome demon snuffs it out and keeps you quiet and complacent.

And then, there is Pride.

Some would say, it’s the most evil of them all.

Pride keeps you from admitting your mistakes. From saying that you’re wrong. That asking for forgiveness is beneath you, and seeking for help and assurance is weakness.

Hoseok comes and goes often after you two have broken up. A stubborn part of him seems to think he can fix things. That in time, you’ll change your mind and take him back. That you’ll love him again, just as much as he loves you.

Even though, in your heart, you’ve never once stopped.

Pride is the vice that sneaks up on you. One you didn’t think you’d ever have, given the way the others plague your mind.

You only realize it when Hoseok stops visiting as much. When his calls are less frequent. When that look in his eyes that he used to only have for you starts to turn to someone else.

“Are you happy?” you ask when he tells you about her. He doesn’t need to. It isn’t any of your business. But he does anyway.

Because Hoseok loved you once. Perhaps, there will always be a part of him that still cares about you. That still likes you, despite everything.

A small voice in your head tells you to admit your feelings to him now. To tell him that you still love him. That you never stopped thinking about him.

Maybe if you did, things would’ve been different. Maybe if you did, he’d choose you.

But that kind of confession is undeserving of you. It kills you to see Hoseok moving on and loving someone else. But what little pride you have steels you from revealing the truth.

Even as he smiles and tells you, “I am.”

The cruelest one of them all, however, stands before you.

You've been doing better. You've been trying. The drinking and parties have slowed down significantly. The demons that haunt you have quieted down. You and Hoseok are friends, despite everything.

Which is why you end up here, at his place, looking at the white box he has in his hand.

Hoseok smiles and shows you what’s inside the box. Hope is in his eyes as he looks at you.

And a myriad of demons and their vices scatter into your heart all at once.

Lust makes you careless. Throwing yourself away to carnal sins is how you two met, and perhaps, not much else more.

Greed makes you selfish. Makes you want to keep him for yourself, even if you’re the one who broke things off with him.

Envy makes you jealous. What does she have that you don’t?

Gluttony makes you indulgent. All you do is take, take, and take. You don’t give anything back, and that’s why he deserves more.

Wrath makes you angry. You want to scream, throw something at him, make it known that you’re upset. That you’re still in love with him.

Sloth makes you complacent. Despite your fury, you could do nothing. This is all your fault, after all.

Pride makes you a liar. You refuse to let Hoseok know how hurt you are.

And hope … Hope has you clinging to him, even now. It makes your heart yearn – that small, tiny part of you that keeps fighting for him. That keeps reminding you that you love him. Even as he stands before you with an engagement ring inside the white box.

“Do you think she’ll like it?”

You force yourself to smile, hoping that it doesn’t reflect the way your heart shatters. Hoping that, for a brief second, he’d look at you and say that he loves you still.

“She’ll love it, Hoseok.”

Thank you for reading ♡ Comments & reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[bobby-r2d2-floyd]

the nanny part 3 | hangman x reader (saturn)

note: finally a longer one? ish? it took a minute to write because i had a headache every day for the last week and then i had a take home organic chemistry exam that i needed to get done (gotta maintain that 4.0, school is important kids!)

warnings: swearing, very light angst, jake is pinning, saturn is in a relationship. lowkey jake is a simp.

i don't think that this is a warning but i've not explicitly said this either, but any female character i write is bisexual. of that isn't your cup of tea, i'm sorry.

word count: 2.6k

not beta'd we die like men.

inspired by: @roosterforme

previous | next

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Jake was a mess. 

For no reason, honestly. He had typed out, deleted, retyped, deleted again, and then said said fuck it and opened up his notes app to try and type a message out to you about this weekend. All this weekend is, really, is a friendly chat between a dad looking for someone to help him out with his infant daughter that he didn’t know existed a month ago, and Penny Benjamin’s solid 10 niece that gave him a half mast when she was holding his daughter, for no reason. 

And when you called him Dad-man? His heart stopped. He thought about it all night. 

By the time Friday night had rolled around he still hadn’t texted you in regards to going out tomorrow, so when he got a text message from you, he was a little confused, he hadn’t given you his number… had he?

Hey dad-man! Rooster gave me your number since I hadn’t heard from you all week. Are we still on for tomorrow? I know that Avery is a little young but the San Diego Zoo is doing a little arts and crafts thing with the animals tomorrow we could check out? My treat? you had sent along with a link to the event and he smiles as he types out his message to you.

Hey! You know I honestly had like, 30 different messages typed out to send you but they were all ass ideas compared to yours. I’m sure Avery would love it even if she doesn’t understand what’s going on, lol maybe we could grab coffee or something from a cafe afterwards?

It’s a date, dad-man ;) you send back after a few minutes, which is quickly followed by: pick me up at 9? 

It’s a date, darlin he sends and then groans into his hands “darlin? Seriously? She’s going to nanny your fucking get, get a grip Seresin.” he sets an alarm for 7 am, not like he needs it though. Avery is awake and hungry by 6:45 then out for a nap by 8:30. 

He’s asleep just after 2 and at 6:45 on the dot he can hear Avery stirring through the baby monitor on his nightstand. He’s quick to stand up before her wails get any louder, changes her from any accident she could have had in her sleep and then heads downstairs to make her a bottle. While he’s feeding her, he has coffee brewing for himself so he isn’t a complete zombie when he sees you in a few hours. He gets Avery dressed and her diaper bag packed before he’s setting her in her bouncer in the bathroom so he can take a quick shower without leaving her unsupervised -- she has the time of her life listening to him sing. 

It’s 8:45 by the time he’s finally leaving. Avery forgoing her morning nap and choosing to fight him instead when he was trying to get her dressed, and then puking on his one clean shirt that he had that wasn’t his service khakis or a graphic t-shirt set him behind his schedule. He quickly found a shirt that he turned into a tank top, groaning at how he looked like a gym douchebag 

You were waiting on the steps of Penny’s house for him nearly 15 minutes past 9 for him, and boy were you a sight to see. He definitely regretted his choice of a dingey old Navy shirt but that was his own fault for putting off his laundry and choosing to favor doing Avery’s instead. You were wearing jean shorts you obviously cut yourself, sinfully short but also modest at the same time. The shorts were paired with a pair of tennis shoes and a plain white tank top and a… fanny pack?

You hopped into his truck with a “you’re late” but he just laughs and points to the fanny pack.

“The 90s called, they want their stuff back.” 

“Hey, don’t shit on the 90s. Plus fanny packs are back in. It’s so much more convenient than carrying a purse or other bag around, they’re less likely to be stolen, and both my hands are free.” you say and do a little jazz fingers motion and he just smiles and shakes his head. You put your seatbelt on and he’s pulling out away from the curb.

“Besides, you can’t shit on what I’m wearing, when you’re wearing that.” 

“Hey, be nice to me. Av puked on the shirt I was going to wear and I hadn’t had the chance to wash my clothes yet.” 

“Well, let’s skip the zoo. Avery won’t know the difference, we’ll go back to your place and I can help you clean up.” you suggest and he shakes his head.

“My laundry is not your responsibility. We’re going to the zoo.” he says in his dad voice and you just laugh.

“Whatever you say, dad-man.” you kick your feet up against his dash and if you were anyone else, he’d be telling you to get them off the dash.

The drive to the zoo goes by quickly and despite you calling dibs on paying the entrance fee, Jake is slapping his card down faster than you can even open your fanny pack. You shoot him a glare and he gives you a smirk that sends most girls falling to their knees. Keyword, most.

Jake pushes Avery’s stroller through the zoo while you walk beside him, making light conversation and getting to know each other as you make your way to where the kids' activities are located. 

You learn that he comes from an abusive home. His dad was an alcoholic who passed from liver failure not that long ago, flooding the family with relief. He has three sisters, plenty of nieces and nephews. You learned grew up on a ranch which explains how his legs bow out the smallest amount, his favorite color is green (of course), his favorite tv show, food, even the book he read recently. You told him about your life too, growing up in eastern Tennessee, your parents' accident, living with Penny and helping her raise Amelia to the teen she is today, your time in Vermont, why you picked education to go into. Jake easily saw you as someone that he wanted to spend more time with, it was a no brainer that you would be the one watching his daughter when he needed it. Hell, he could even see Avery calling you mom one day, in the distant future of course. 

You three had finally made it to the area of the zoo where the activities were being held and you take Avery out of her stroller and sit with her in your lap while Jake sits next to you. The warmth of your skin against his making him hotter than the San Diego sun. 

For the next hour you two sit, comfortable with each other while Avery mashes paint around the ziplock bag she was working on. Thankfully for the sun it dried quickly and you drew out a few animals on the rainbow colors covering the page. 

At only 4 months old, Jake is in such awe at how you talk to and how you treat Avery and even at how Avery responds to you. The babble that you do back to Avery, how sweet you talk to her, how she reaches for you, all of it. Just melts Jake. 

The time to walk back to the truck wasn’t long enough, in his opinion, and he was already planning a trip back when she was a little older and would appreciate it a little bit more. 

You put Avery in her carseat while Jake breaks down her stroller and puts it into the bed of his truck before shutting the lift gate. “Still up for coffee?” he asks just as you’re shutting the back door.

“If you are.” you say and give him a smile, he opens your door for you and offers you a hand and you just laugh and take it before hopping up into the cab and once you’re settled he shuts the door and walks around to his own side.

The drive to the local coffee shop he had in mind was surprisingly quick to get to, granted he did speed a little through some yellow lights to get there.

You don’t bother getting Avery’s stroller out, choosing instead to just undo her car seat and carry her in that way since she was sleeping peacefully already. You tell Jake your order and he stands in line while you go and pick out a table, a little table in the corner and you set Avery’s carrier the table after making sure that it was sturdy enough that you didn’t need to worry about bumping the table and having her shift too much. 

Jake comes and takes a seat since it’ll take a minute for the food to be prepared. “They didn’t have hazelnut, is caramel okay?” he asks since you had asked for a hazelnut latte.

“Caramel is perfect, actually. It’s my favorite flavor.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” he says with a smile and leans forward on the table and you give him a kind smile back.

“So dad-man. Think I’m fit enough to watch Avery for you?” you ask and he chuckles.

“I think you’re qualified to do more than that, but yeah. She loves you, I love you-oh I uh-” his ears redden and you laugh.

“No I get it, don’t worry.” you say as his name is being called for the food and drinks. You watch him walk away, shamelessly checking him out as he goes, you bite your lip softly but look away quickly when he turns around to walk back. 

“One chicken salad on a croissant with blueberry applesauce and an iced caramel latte with oat milk for Saturn,” he says, setting your tray down and you laugh and he sets his down before pulling his chair out. “And one of the exact same thing for me.”  

“Real original dad-man.” you say as you take a sip of the latte and you moan, “this is so good.” 

His breath hitches when he hears the sound and he shakes it off with a laugh, “yeah, the coffee here is the best I’ve had in the area. It’s nice that it isn’t too far from base or from home either.”

“Might just have to go a little out of my way in the morning to come here.” you say and he laughs.

“So, how did you get the nickname Saturn?” he asks as he takes a bite of his sandwich and a sad smile forms on your face.

“I got it from my dad. I don’t know why I took such a liking to the planet, but I grew up loving space. I wanted to be an astronaut, actually. He took me to our local planetarium and it was the first planet that I actually saw in the telescope and there was just something about the rings that really drew five year old me in. I wanted saturn everything. I even went as the planet for Halloween one year.” you say and he laughs.

“What were you just a yellow ball with circles around you?” he asks and you nod.

“Yeah pretty much, let me see if I have a picture.” you pull out your phone and he glances at your lock screen and sees it’s you and another girl kissing with fireworks in the background. He quickly looks away as you get into your phone, feeling an unnecessary stab to his heart. “Here it is!” you say and show him little you with a little bucket of candy, the biggest grin on your face and he laughs and takes your phone so he can look at it closer.

“You were adorable, what happened?” he teases and you make an offended noise and snatch your phone back.

“I’m still adorable! I’m just… grown now.” you say and he laughs.

You both sit there for a while longer, Jake running out to get stuff for a bottle before coming back in to see you already holding her and waiting for him to return. “You want me to feed her?” he asks and you shake your head.

“Nope. I got her.” you saw and take the bottle, she latches quickly to it and starts drinking away. “When you have me around you are doing nothing. Just relax, daddy. Let someone else take care of her.”

He feels relief at that statement, but also useless since all he’s done for the past almost month is take care of this little human that he helped to create. But watching you take care of her, so effortlessly, was so easy for him. He didn’t expect to be able to relinquish control of this aspect of his life so easily, and yet, it was almost second nature to him.

“So, are you able to start watching her on Monday? I return to duty then and-”

“Jake, it’s fine. I do nothing all day aside from helping out Penny at the bar. I would be more than happy to come and spend all day with this little baby.” you say, looking down at Avery with a smile on your face.

“I’m not, stealing you away from anyone am I? Boyfriend.. Girlfriend?” he fishes and you laugh.

“My girlfriend lives back in Vermont. She doesn’t have any plans to come visit any time soon so as of right now, the only person you and Avery are stealing time from is myself. But there’s nothing I can’t do with her that I couldn’t do by myself.” you say and he nods.

“How long have you two been together?” 

“Just over two years. We celebrated our anniversary just before I moved out here.” you say, looking back up at him and you see the look change in his eyes and you offer him a small smile.

“What about you? Any girlfriend that’s going to come out of the frameworks?” you tease and he shakes his head. 

“Nah, not really looking to date now that I have this little one to be thinking about.” he says and you nod, the conversation ending there. 

After Avery is done with her bottle you burp her and lay her back in her car seat. It’s nearing 3pm already and you have to get to the bar soon for your shift. Jake carries Avery back to the car while you run into the bathroom, splashing cool water on your face. 

You knew things were rocky with your girlfriend back home, and the last thing you ever wanted to do was get involved with your new boss, even if he was one of the most genuine and kind men you’ve ever met.

You make your way to Jake’s truck and he’s waiting for you outside, windows already rolled down so the back door can be shut and Avery won’t bake in the Californian sun. He opens your door for you again and you smile and climb up in the truck.

It’s a short drive to the bar and you hesitate getting out, you look back at him with your lip already between your teeth and you smile. “Thank you, Jake. I had a really great time.”

He returns your smile with a nod, “so did I. And I’m sure that Avery did too.” you laugh and look back at her.

“You’ll have to text me your address before Monday.” you remind him and he nods.

“I will.”

“Alright, well. Enjoy your night, dad-man.” you say, jumping out of his truck and he watches you walk into the bar, leaning his head back against his seat and letting out a deep sigh.

Of course you’re in a relationship.

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

taglist:

@mandylove1000 @zbeez-outlet @emma8895eb @sinners-98-world @buxkybarnez @classyunknownlover @caidi-paris @classycolorpeach @eugene-emt-roe @mayhemmanaged @missemrose @fighterpilothoe @crystal-lily-101 @pookie-cleary @max-dalton @hisredheadedgoddess28 @elijahmikaelsonbitch @thegoddessc @yourfaveaquarius92 @blueoorchid @archaeologydigit @dempy @missathlete31 @hangmandruigandmav @alana4610 @h-ngm-ns @naya-neneya @desert-fern @dakotakazansky @horseshoegirl @roosterbruiser @startrekfangirl2233 @lovinglyeternal @sarahsmi13s @the-ms-mischief @that-one-random-writer @cassiemitchell @roostette @footprintsinthesxnd @roosters-girl @musesownmymind

[clericofshadows]

14, 20, 18 and 10 (let the violence take over)

thanks! I most definitely will :)

choose violence asks

10. worst part of fanon

There's a lot of fanon I don't like (read: all of it tbh) but I've never really been a big fan of "grunt is shepard's uwu sweet little son baby child" mostly because one, I don't care for grunt, and two, it's just annoying lmao

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

Confession time: I don't read a lot of ME fic mostly because my tastes are very picky these days... I'm sorry I can't really read anything with Garrus and Liara as Shepard's besties or close confidants, it's just so against my own canon that it turns me off a lot, and a lot of fics. So I guess that counts? More varied dynamics would be nice.

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on…

The potential of a lot of neat dynamics and friendships regarding Kaidan and Ashley and some of the ME2-only squadmates. Now I have seen some interesting stuff here and there with Kaidan and Jack and Kaidan and Miranda, but man, I want more Ashley and Miranda stuff about family and sisters and bonding over putting up a strong front but secretly loving sappy stuff (especially romantic content), Ash and Jack bonding via Armax matches and blowing up Cerberus, Ashley and Zaeed talking about weapons and the best way to snipe a target... all that good stuff.

Just give me more Ashley content, tbh. Fandom AND BIOWARE doesn't appreciate her enough.

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

Can I say all of ME2 lol? It's tedious and boring.

But for ME1, as much as I love the side missions, I never do the minerals and writings and all that shit and just save edit it in since some of it transfers to other games.

For ME3, Thessia. I hate that mission, I don't enjoy fighting banshees and it's the worst because of forced Liara nonsense. I don't even mind the fetch quests in that game since I enjoy scanning lol.

[d0d0-b0i]

oooough, i am absolutely in love with horizon series and rarely see anyone bring up these games, so i am immensely happy to see that you are enjoying them! (:>

regarding kotallo ship situation, I don't really get it either, but, from what i've seen, people just like to slap a romantic interest on aloy ( avad, erend, tallanah, etc ), which i find a little silly, but it's done in good faith ( i hope ). he is an interesting character, and his personal arc is sweet and compelling, maybe this is what draws people in

i'm really curious to hear your opinion on sylens, considering you did complete the frozen wilds dlc and didn't get far enough in the forbidden west story line to get the full picture

and! and! i'm really curious to hear about your favourite side-quests from both games, because community sleeps on those

okok, i'm rambling, sorry to barge in your asks so suddenly. i hope you'll enjoy your playthough, have a nice one! (:>

1) yeah honestly im surprised these games are so slept on?? the story is genuinely good, the main character is reasonably flawed and you want her to get better despite her best attempts to ignore her issues, plus the world is just so fun! insane honestly

2) i see! it just surprised me that he has somehow domineered the ao3 relationship count 😂🧐 would think that they were official or something but i haven’t gotten that far if they are

i understand why people like him though! hot himbo with a soft streak is always a good character choice

3) i think sylens is a good character! although he is a bit of a thorn in aloys side he ultimately is an antihero in that him helping her is only when the world would end if he didn’t. antisocial icon. also hot 👍

4) god the sidequest question is very hard haha! honestly i’ve been burning through the games so quickly they’re hard to keep track of, but i liked petra’s quests in both games, liked the dungeon delver guy from frozen wilds dlc! currently stuck on talanahs quest because the next point is like the end of the map that i haven’t even entered but im curious about it!

i honestly can’t pinpoint more than that atm but honestly? i can’t think of a single quest or errand that i found tedious or boring, which is extremely rare! the side quests are always something i enjoy doing, but since there’s so many they’re kind of melting together in my head lol!

-have a good one as well! as soon as i come home i think i might do some fanart because honestly it’s a crime that the fandom isn’t bigger and id like to put some art out there :)

[infiniteorangethethird]

(kskdkrkekd ignore my ask before i sent it on accident before i could finish it)

hiiii we haven't talked in a bit so this is me popping by

how have you been doing? :)

i have finished reading hamlet so i am going to reread i fell in love with hope any day now and give you your promised highly detailed essay. yay? also i have been seeing a therapist, idk if i told you about that and i'm pretty sure that's a yay!! she's very nice

question time!! i miss your aro fic so i decided to ask something regarding that. firstly, can i ask why are there different mating systems? like, what is the in-world explanation and/or what is the narrative purpose? (idk if that's too much spoiler, you can just answer in private if you want or not answer at all, whatever you seem fit)

other question is about björn bc i love him. does he like musicals too?? i know you said you, yourself are not that into theatre but if yes, do you have an idea what types of musicals would be his fav?

that's all for now i think. you answer when you answer, if you want to at all - as always. no pressure!!

bye-bye (´^_^)ノ

hiiiii sorry this took me so long to get around to, I've finally started on my summer job and I can count my free seconds on just one hand 😭 otherwise I'm mostly fine, bit preoccupied with getting obsessed over various crochet projects and trying not to lose my sanity over them lmao

oh I am so looking forward to that essay of yours, it's been a hot moment since I read I fell in love with hope so perhaps this is a call for me to reread it as well. I'd say we should do a race to see who can finish sooner but I get the feeling neither of us needs any kind of extra stress right now, lol. And I'm glad to hear you found a good therapist! I remember you mentioned you were looking for one, so happy to hear that turned out nicely!

Imma be honest, it's been a hot moment since I thought abt my aro fic 😅 other projects came up and then I started working on Absolutely Nothing At All, so that one has been kinda put on the backburner lately - it's probably a good thing you're reminding me of it, then. Tbh I don't remember if I had any specific reason for multiple mating systems, I think I just wanted to represent many of them to say: no, the problem isn't with one specific system, the problem is with the idea itself. Then again I have been considering going through every idea I had thus far again and sort of "restarting" bc I wasn't entirely happy with what I came up with thus far, so who knows. Maybe next time you ask I will stick with just one system lol.

Oh yeah Björn is a really funny guy I love him too, for some reason I imagine he would be the type of person who loves musicals but purely for their music, and otherwise has zero clue as to what the musical is actually about. He would listen to the soundtrack on 24/7 loop but if someone came up to him like "actually this musical is about [plot]" he would give you the most confused surprised pikachu face. (What kind would be his favorite, I am honestly not sure)

man I really should think about getting back to writing this Thang I have been putting it off for so long I'm already forgetting things about it 😭

Anyway, how are you doing? I hope everything's going fine with you this summer break and that ur resting at least a little bit (and that your brain hasn't boiled yet in the heat lmao). Doing anything interesting lately?

[goblins-riddles-or-frocks]

What are your thoughts on Alina being Shu in the show? If canon Alina was from Shu Han do you think it would've made any difference? The show kind of wasted this storyline but idk if I prefer Alina actually having a solid backstory or book Alina being this nobody from nowhere that's now a reverred saint. Also I've seen a lot of people from the book fandom hc darkling as shu looking.

I like her being specifically mixed race a lot! Especially with how it ties into her unmoored feeling where she isn’t sure there’s anywhere she truly belongs. I think it could bring really interesting context to her perspective.

When the show and casting were announced I suspected they chose to have her be half Shu because the books are uh pretty racist in that regard! It starts out in subtler ways with the only Asian characters being either the fucking karate teacher trope or Tolya and Tamar as both having essentially renounced their heritage and country completely in order to be counted “one of the good ones” but also the way they’re employed as the only genuinely faithful characters (devoted to the in-books white lead) in the main cast, while shdhff also being presented as untrustworthy when they sell them out to the Apparat?

But then the SoC duology gets sooo much worse with the parem being given a not!opium position as the scary dangerous Drug From The East and the hardcore dehumanized super soldiers from Shu Han whose name I forgot how to spell but omg it really felt like they only existed to be killed in really gruesome and mean spirited ways. Not to mention Wylan’s magic yellowface! That would be terrible on its own but then that’s how the book attempts to remotely deal with racism sjfhfgff by the character in yellowface experiencing micro agressions. It’s just. It’s bad!

I think someone must have said something to LB by KoS or she just realized the implications were decidedly not great because she tries to course correct really hard and shift most antagonistic focus to Fjerda instead. (Too little too late imo 🥲)

So I was assuming the half Shu Alina choice was in a similar vein? But yeah the show did absolutely nothing with it! What a missed opportunity! I was willing to give them the benefit of the doubt with season one where Alina being Shu was only used as an excuse to hurl made up slurs at her, thinking that it might be building to something? …But then it didn’t lol. And that retroactively made the slurs and focus on racism feel so pointless and mean spirited. It felt like an admittance that her being hit over the head constantly with racism wasn’t at all integral to the story and she could’ve been a mixed race protagonist all along without any of that!

But yeah all that being said, I like the concept of Alina being mixed. But I also wouldn’t trust Leigh Bardugo with it? Like everything I already mentioned in the books aside, I think she has a terrible habit of giving her POC characters very racialized suffering in their backstories. I strongly disliked how she handled race with both Inej and Zoya. Zoya was worse imo because she was initially clearly written to be white, but once we got a race retcon for her she suddenly has a never before hinted at poverty and child bride backstory when she’s primarily been associated with privilege before? Like the problem isn’t that she has a tragic backstory, but all the choices felt very racialized. I also just found it slimy how officially commissioned art etc had her visibly brown then the books make a point of saying multiple times that she just… looks white? Just leaves a bad taste in my mouth like she wants the representation brownie points without being willing to commit in canon. So idk as much as I’d love a POC protagonist, if Alina was half Shu in the books as well I wouldn’t trust LB to not give her a weird racial caricature tragic backstory. I do think we could still have the “no backstory just came out of nowhere” thing with her being mixed, I don’t think that has to be canceled out. Like it’s mentioned that Keramzin regularly takes in “war orphans” and border areas tend to be racially mixed. But yeah I just think LB would probably get weird with it. (She was admittedly better with race in Ninth House, but I suspect that also had to do with the real world contemporary setting)

Also the Darkling thing isn’t an HC it’s from a one off line in Demon in the Wood! It’s mentioned that he can, and has, passed as Shu. It’s ahdhf never mentioned again though and kind of wild tbh considering the very visibly white face casts she’s talked about for him in the past?? But that’s just word of god whereas the line in DitW is canon so 🤷‍♀️

[a-girl-made-of-stardust]

“Twisted though it may be, that was the power of love. It could usher in warmth and light, and it could also turn a single ember into a raging inferno, destroying those who threatened it. Love might be the worst sin of them all, with its two sides.” ― Kingdom of the Feared by Kerri Maniscalco

(so, i finally had the nerve to read the last book of this trilogy. I've a lot of opinions about this one. first: right off the bat, there's smut which kinda shock me on the very 1st chapter?! like holy shit can we get a footing first before this porno shit? lol I mean don't get me wrong, I love reading smut and I blush just reading them but damn, Emilia, girl you need to get a grip; I mean I get that wrath is a piece that we all want to taste but constantly thinking of his dick everytime she's with him is too much? second: things are once again too convenient for emilia but compared to the first 2 books, I kinda like her on this one. third: VITTORIA IS BADASS, PERIOD. fourth: I want to see more of the other demon princes, their interactions with each other and whatnot and a chapter or two from wrath's pov would be nice too (he kinda felt like a secondary character in this one; I expected more of him). i also found which house I would be likely in: Sloth. a giant library, you say? COUNT ME THE FUCK IN. fifth: plot was all over the place. like 30% plot, 70% smut. although this book neatly wrapped up all the questions regarding the plot of the whole trilogy but I still didn't like this one. i agree with 2-3 star reviews on Goodreads though. Less action too and less political intrigue (expected more of that but got only a little of it, main couple constantly fucking each other's brains out). saw that there'll be a spin off based on this universe and the 1st book will be about Envy? added that on my TBR list lol. can't remember who uttered the quote above lol maybe it's wrath? 2/5 stars)

[sizzlingpatrolfox]

" Jikookers found shaking as jk discloses that the J on his finger is for JK and the crown is for Army "

Sorry that was me being funny but I'm actually a little, very tiny bit sad that it didn't mean what I would have liked it to mean BUT jikook since last year has felt like smthg I made up on my own so it's okay lol

RIP jikook 2017 - 2023

It's okay, in the end they're people you don't actually know, none of us actually knows them so they will always do and say things that will be unexpected. I personally was sure that tattoo wasn't about Jimin, so I wasn't shocked, he just confirmed something I already believed. But through the years I've been thrown off by Jungkook specifically more times than I can count. Somewhere along the road (like in 2019 lol), I actually stopped expecting good news from Jungkook in regards to jikook. You can allow yourself to be sad about it and then move on.

Sending you love 💝

[demonicgod]

[Asks from "Otherkin Ask Meme." Check my #ask game tag for the rebloggable ask meme, by user princeoframs]

This is really long so please only click the read more if you feel like dealing with a very very long post.

All art is sourced from the Grand Chase wiki.

Are you otherkin or therian?

Otherkin. I'm a fictive of Heitaros Cratsus from Grand Chase that identifies with his source in some soupy ass ways.

What are your kintype(s)?

Specifically, I identify as fictionkin of Heitaros Cratsus from Grand Chase. Related to that, I’m demonkin and divinekin/hearted. Most of those probably make sense enough, but because of my exomemories, it’s a bit more complicated to label whether divinekin or divinehearted is more accurate. My title was the Demonic God, which denoted how much power I had accrued during my time in Elyos. I literally fistfought three Goddesses and brought them to such a standstill their only option was using the last of their life force to power a magical laser bomb to kill me. Then, I spent the next few hundred years busting out of the Underworld and eating the divine reactor they slammed me with because I wanted to become a new Creator. I technically succeeded for maybe a few hours at most; so it’s difficult as a result to figure out whether I am divinehearted (that is, aspiring to divinity, but not being divine) or divinekin (seeing as I technically succeeded at becoming Creator, even if it was for a fraction of my life). I could say both, but my relationship to divinity is also fluid (especially considering my presence in a body that is not necessarily divine and is, in fact, a sack of meat appreciating the divinity of the world).

What was your awakening like? When was it?

My first awakening was when the body was in middle school. This was long before we understood that we were plural, so my awakening was muddied by a lack of clarity regarding our more-than-oneness. We came out of some religiously-exacerbated trauma with me splitting off in middle school as basically a parody of the devil. I was an asshole, and that identity kind of followed me through a dormancy to when I woke back up from it in late 2021. I still ID with that to some degree (I even mention it on my about page), but I ID a little bit more with Heitaros, because that’s the face that I found most comfortable, and it resonated with me. It was blistering at first, and the realization of a face in the context of the system made it a lot easier for me to not be so much of a rube all the time lmao.

When did you first hear about the kin community?

I believe we heard about the kin community first sometime in the middle of high school, through someone else we knew in the GC fandom, funnily enough lol.

Do you experience phantom limbs astral limbs?

We prefer the term “astral limbs” to describe appendages we don’t have that are not part of the human package. That said, I have four wings. They’re bat-like, and the bone/external membranes are a dark blue. The inner lining is a glowing bright blue, meanwhile. Both are the same color as my true body.

Do you experience any other shifts?

Yeah, I experience shifts relating to my true body (what’s my blog icon right now; I've included the full piece of art below too because it's the best official art of it). This involves a lot, including everything from my teeth to my claws. It’s just as disorienting as wing shifts considering I live in a twink’s body, lol.

What’s your favorite shift you get? Why?

Almost any of them count, but there are a few that make me feel particularly connected to my past life. My true body is one I miss a lot, but the body I took from Baldinar also has some particular meaning to me because I can sometimes use it to drag him into front lol. Also, I just like how I look wearing his features.

Tag who did it better lmao.

What’s your least favorite shift? Why?

Arguably, the same as above because sometimes intense shifts give me intense emotional pain. It's like having a head full of bees. Disorienting, confusing, and a little bit irritating, all at once. It tends to come with a little sauce side of dysphoria too, because the body's presentation doesn't match up with what I want to look like.

The only shift that makes me kind of uncomfortable is the shift I get of Kyle's body. He's in our system and comfortable around me, but it's just a little weird going from himbo to twink to sad Kingdom Hearts reject.

Can you make yourself shift?

Sometimes. Depends on who else is in front with me and what the state of the body is. With enough picrews I can kind of force a shift to my stolen body, though.

Do you have shift triggers, or do they happen randomly?

My shift triggers are usually emotional in nature, but active triggers are generally the same as my active front triggers. So, usually if I need to be in front, someone can jam me to front by engaging with those triggers, some of which make it easier for me to also induce a shift.

Do you have memories?

Yes. Practically my whole life. Some of it is just impressions, but some things are more in depth. These are also kind of front triggers for me, too, so the system will ask me to tell them more about my memories if they want or need me in front (hence me writing “fanfiction” about my source). My co-host is really good at this, and that's arguably the reason they're co-host; they'll regularly remember something about another headmate and then ask another to "tell them a story." They got like 300 pages of shit out of me by doing that lol.

What’s your favorite thing about your kintype? (The species, creature, etc)

The power. Not to sound too wild or anything lmao, but in my past life it took so much just to take me down, and the limited time I had with divinity was only better. This is a double-edged sword, of course, because I live in a chronically ill body (that is also a squishy twink), so yearning for that is kind of dangerous, but at least in-system that means no one is willing to fuck with me (at least in a “physical altercation” kind of way).

A good shift, especially if it comes with respites where I'm shifted in my sleep, leaves me feeling rejuvenated. It's like a reminder that no matter what, I still have worth and am still a force to be reckoned with. It feels like electricity, like a really good stretch after a long rest. I have no clue if anyone else can relate to this, but I hope it makes some sense.

Do you think kins are spiritual or psychological in nature?

Yes. Both. And sometimes neither. Sometimes one or the other. But for me, I’m a psychospiritual entity in a system that is disordered and engages in spiritual explanations. In other words, I don’t fucking care lol (/lh). It doesn’t matter to me, because I’m both, because my experiences can’t be boiled down to such a binary.

If you're one, the other, both, or neither, that's also not my business to pry. This shit is too queer to worry about splitting hairs.

Does anyone know you are otherkin? Friends, family, etc? If so, how did you tell them?

Yeah, most close family and quite a few close friends. Most online friends know, too.

Do you have any friends who are also kin?

Yeah!

Do you meditate?

Sometimes, but honestly at this point meditation is difficult to do in ways we like because of ADHD, dissociation, and the fact we basically dissociate all day at work and can’t easily build meditative strategies because of how that takes it out of us mentally.

Do you get kin dreams?

I actually decided to get better at lucid dreaming to try to have more, to be honest. Our sys used to be super into lucid dreaming, so I’m mostly just getting old muscles back up to snuff. It's been hit or miss all in all.

Even non-lucid kin dreams are usually really good though. Cathartic and a little bit sad to wake from, but you get over it when you're used to 'em.

Do you wish you were your kintype? Why or why not?

Depends. Would I still get to interact with my system? Would they be stuck in that body with me? If yes and no, then I would love to have my body again so I could actually squeeze the hell out of my headmates and also do the flying stim called “get up really high in the air and dive like you’re freefalling so you can parachute last second.”

Do you own any gear? If so, what items do you have and do you like to wear them?

Uhhhh skip.

Give a controversial opinion/your stance on some type of discourse.

This is purely because I’ve known a lot of misinformed kids before, but I think as a community we should be a lot better at being forthcoming about information and not being so quick to malign anyone that uses the term “KFF.” That term cropped up in my hiatus from the community (that hiatus being because people were bitching at psychological-related kintypes in all my fucking spaces), and by time I came back, no one could do anything but bitch about “KFFers” and never seemed to say anything more than the same BS I see in the plural community. It was only after almost two years back that we FINALLY found out what that’s “supposed” to mean, and it’s such a nonsense useless term that people I used to hang out with absolutely used it in a “misinformed but not bad-faith” kind of way (the “that would semantically be called a linktype but whatever” sort of KFFer). I get that there are people that want to make our community look bad, but y’all… those bitches have always been coming into our tags and spaces and planting fake blog posts to screenshot for r3ddit karma. Cringe is dead, spend your energy blocking/moving on and making otherkin dictionaries (like the cool people that finally helped me understand what the fuck y’all were bitching about lmao).

What makes you feel closer to your kintype(s)?

Just being me. I'm stubborn as Hell when I need to be, especially when it comes to things that better the system's situation, and that usually makes me feel like I'm trying to reclaim some of my old power. Boundaries are power, to be fair.

But if we want to get more specific, it's mostly front triggers that tend to get me feeling closer to my kintype, sure, but also writing about it as well. Anything that forces me to think about it and makes it easier for me to interface with headspace, basically.

What are some things that validate you?

We had a friend in college that said our voice sounded androgynous, and I know that's mostly gender euphoria speaking, but as someone who loves how I sound when I front? Yeah.

[canisalbus]

You're like a dog expert on my eyes (lol) so i wanted to ask if you knew about the usage of body (fur?) paint in dogs in any culture? Im always investigation but i can't seem to find much about it

Oh man, I'm not an expert! I've read a little bit about some stuff but it doesn't really make me qualified to educate people. I'm flattered though!

The first instance that springs to my mind is using henna to dye the paws of Salukis and Sloughis. It seems to be a tradition in a few North African and West Asian/Near Eastern cultures, where sighthounds like these are held in extremely high regard. I've read it's used as a decoration, as a symbol of the dog's beauty and strength, and I think I remember it might have some sort of protective function as well? But I don't have any sources to give you and my memory is shoddy, take all of that with a grain of salt.

See the red paws?

Very pretty. It needs to be reapplied every now and then, it's like dyeing hair.

This one has a hennaed forehead.

There's also the Nepalese festival called Kukur Tihar that is dedicated to worshipping dogs and celebrating their relationship with humans. Pet and stray dogs are bathed, decorated with flower garlands and their foreheads are smeared with red plant based paste. I don't know if that counts, to my understanding this stuff washess off with water but I could be wrong.

I've seen a couple of photos of Indian and Pakistani mastiffs painted with these black spots, but I've never found out what's their purpose. This one is a Bully Kutta.

Dyeing/painting dogs isn't very widespread but it's also not completely unheard of. I wish I had more examples to give you, but I hope this was even a little bit helpful!

[riridontneedya]

What's mine isn't yours / Part 4 ... 

Part 4 of the "What's mine isn't yours" series . I'm sure you all were absolutely quaking in anticipation for this ahaha . Anyway I took some time pondering what direction to take it without it being repetitive ...Alas I had a brain wave and this segment is spicy , juicy and angsty. If I don't say so myself. I finally had Micheal and y/n do the devils tango .. that ish was coming especially if you've read any of the other Parts so with that comes the WARNINGS! If you read this and still read on knowing damn well you shouldn't be engaging... just don't I have other content. Click here for Master-list and to read the other segments .

Warnings: SMUT (with a plot lol) mature adult themes , description of sexual acts.

Word count: 2231

Pairing: Tommy x Micheal x y/n (female reader)

A/n : ENJOY! let me know if you're enjoying this love triangle of sorts .. also let me know if you have any ideas what direction you'd like it to take etc or any requests come say hi I don't bite :). As always a shout out to the absolute babe who gave me the name suggestion @notyour-valentine <3 xx

It was abundantly clear that in this instant actions indeed spoke louder than words. Up until this point it had been all talk with Micheal, but now .. now with his action behind it y/n knew she was in deep. As they withdrew from the kiss y/n stood mouth agape in absolute awe. By no means did she dislike like the kiss .. in-fact it was the complete opposite and that was a problem in itself. She strongly believed that all the pent up tension would immediately dissipate the second they put action to it, but that wasn’t to be the case and now she was stood in a field . Overwhelmed with emotion , a new found yearning for Micheal and a gnawing guilt regarding Tommy… “Y/n” Michael spoke quietly to gently pry her away from her thoughts. Y/n let out an exasperated sigh  “Fuck” she muttered as she began to lightly pace back and forth with her hands firmly stationed at her hips. Michael couldn’t help but grin as his eyes followed her on her little excursion. 

“Well , can’t say I've ever had that reaction after a kiss”.  Y/n stopped her pacing and glared at him whilst  beginning to ramble incoherently. He couldn’t help but chuckle he found her little panicked fluster rather endearing. “Y/n! What is it you want right now darling?”. Y/n’s face fell as she began to process the question . “Use your words darling” he prompted. “Thats the problem Micheal, I don’t even know myself … but in this very moment I want you right now..” “Hmmm , I'm sure you do but if I remember rightly you didn’t want your judgment clouded with sex”. Y/n was visibly baffled .. did he do all of that only to reject her at the last hurdle. “ I have a better idea it only requires a little patience beautiful .We’re home we can do whatever we like. I say we make the most of it, us without restriction.  Yeah yeah I can fuck you fast and ragged out here and that be it … but I want to have my way with you .. have you take me deep and slow until you can’t take it anymore”.  Y/ns stomach felt as if it had be hurtled rapidly to her feet .She had absolutely no retort for that she was rendered speechless . Y/n shuffled back a few steps . Micheal outstretched his arm “Come here love, I won’t bite… unless you're into that sort of thing” he chuckled . Y/n couldn’t smile that spread across her face, it was infectious. “Lets do it” she beamed as she nuzzled into his broad chest. 

Micheal was sure to take advantage of the new found freedom in their pretend bubble. His lips simply refused to leave hers. Like a moth drawn to a flame , at any  opportunity he would take it upon himself to embrace her in a kiss . His hands remained firmly planted on y/ns body. He wanted the world to know that in that moment she was in fact his. The day had left y/n feeling giddy. The experience of “dating” Michael was none like anything she had ever experienced. No wonder the girls in the village during his early teens  flocked in their masses. It was the perfect mixture of wholesome with that delightful undertone of a feverish sexual tension. The day was drawing to a close and Michael had suggested the pair head for a drink to close off the day. Still remaining cautious they decided to go to a pub further a field  just on the outskirts to lessen the chance of bumping into anyone who knew of them prior. 

The bar was filled with a raucous energy. Music was blaring ,  people were bleating along merrily and wildly gyrating , causing their drinks to slosh everywhere. They were truly caught up in the moment. As chaotic as it seemed it  was a perfect environment really as they wouldn’t be the focal point . A place in which they could rekindle with one another,  could be teenagers all over again . They would be free of unwanted intrusions and rogue gunshots. In that moment they had the world to themselves. The pair slopped in and made themselves comfortable at a booth tucked away in the corner. “Ill go grab us a drink”  y/n smiled to Michael. Pulling her in for one last ferocious kiss he draped her over his knees , having her straddle him.“We're in public you know” panted y/n .

Paying her no mind he just grinned continuing to use his mouth to tease and taunt every part of her exposed flesh. “Micheal” she attempted to snap but it fell short as it slipped out as a moan. The mere sound of her made him stiffen with pleasure, he was ecstatic and craved her even more “ Fucccking hell It drives me fucking insane when you moan my name..” Rather briskly he removed y/n from his lap and stood up, taking her by the wrist he began to lead her towards the backdoor. “Where are we going” y/n squealed as she teetered behind him.  Practically shoving her out the door he turned to her “Bed.. now” he snarled. There it was again the sensation of her stomach being flung from a height. 

Bounding up the stairs and tumbling into the room the pair began to swiftly disrobe one another in-between frantic kisses. Michael paused and rested his forehead on y/n’s tying his arms at her waist  playfully backing her against the wall. “Say you want me , and Im yours y/n” he whispered into her lips. “I want you to ruin me Micheal”. The dark of his pupils engulfed his eyes leaving them inky black , he had been handed the keys to paradise and he wasn’t about to waste anytime. “Oh my  y/n.. fuck you shouldn’t have said that”. Unpinning her from the wall he took a hold of her leg and hooked it around his waist. “Jump” he demanded .

Obediently complying she now was being lifted and carried by Michael towards the bed . Gently he placed her on her back relishing the sight of her “ Open your mouth for me” he murmured as he plunged his index and middle finger into y/ns warm mouth. “Thats a good girl suck harder” she began sucking them with earnest eliciting a groan of delight from Michael. He slowly removed his now sopping wet fingers and began to tease them along her neck down her torso all the way down to her entrance . “Do you want my fingers”. “Please” she moaned urgently completely enamoured by his dominance and vocalness. Hitching her underwear to the side his coated fingers began to tease her . “God you're soaking wet already”  he grinned . With a deliberately agonisingly slow pace he probed his fingers inside her .. then began to build momentum. This caused y/n to moan and begin to buck her hips “ Thats a good girl , spread your legs wider for me”. As she did so his thrusting became deeper and deeper hitting all the points that made her flutter. Y/n let her head flop back as she began to pant. “Keep your eyes on me” he snapped , his hand now fastened at her neck. 

Michaels pace had reached new heights and y/n’s body began to quiver . “ I told you once before and I'll tell you again if you want to come you better beg . Y/n began to plead pathetically desperate for a release “ Louder , let me hear you”. Practically shrieking she begged and begged to let her finish . Giving her exactly no time to recuperate from her orgasm  , Michael was already laying on the bed and hoisting her toward him. “Sit on my face” he ordered “What?” she murmured still in a daze. “You heard me .. now sit on my face”. 

Eager to please she carefully placed herself onto him. Wasting no time he held onto her and began to devour her as if his life depended on it. With each stroke and flick from his warm skilful tongue it sent y/n into a frenzy causing her to clutch on the headboard for dear life as her legs quivered relentlessly. Unable to speak with his face buried so deep in her , and wanting her to achieve another orgasm . Micheal tightened his grip around her preventing her from wriggling away . Y/n squealed .

This was ammunition for him as he rolled his tongue faster and faster over her hypersensitive bud. Unable to bear it anymore her body tremoured as she released for a second time. Content with his work he was beaming ear to ear he panted “You taste so good .. I couldn’t get enough of you”. y/n smiled bashfully “I want you you inside me now Micheal” she demanded. “Oh do you now” he chuckled as he pulled her in for a kiss whilst guiding her downwards towards his now pulsating cock . Y/ns breathe hitched as she slowly eased herself onto his impressive length “You can take it ” he cooed as she finally slid down onto him , coating him in her warmth and slickness. “Fuuck” he muttered under his breathe as he held onto her beginning to slowly thrust from beneath . Y/n let out a guttural moan her head falling onto his shoulder. “ Thats it baby, don’t hold back .. show me how much you need me” y/n continued to let the moans tumble from her  as he began to pound at a feral rate. 

With an impressive manoeuvre he gripped onto her and flipped her around so now he was atop her. “Hmm you look so good beneath me babe , but I want you face down arse up” he ordered “good girl” he smirked as she assumed position. “Hands behind your back sweetheart”. Clutching onto them he picked back up his pace and began to slide in and out of her “You take me so well baby” he grunted administering a sharp slap on her arse. Y/n squealed in delight. Micheal continued to throttle into y/n with a brutal pace. As he was reaching his climax he withdrew from y/n. Taking hold of her thigh he tugged her towards him . Y/n instantly latched her mouth onto his throbbing member . He hissed in utter euphoria as y/n’s warm tongue fluttered all over his raw tip “Yeah baby right there” He moaned breathlessly holding the back of y/n head guiding himself deeper and deeper .

His moans turned into frantic pants and grunts as he got closer . His hand scooped under y/ns chin , his gaze was  now locked onto her tear stained eyes “Swallow” he demanded. Obliging y/n felt the sudden burst of warmth in her mouth that began to cascade down her throat. “Thats my girl” he sighed planting a kiss on her forehead. “Lets say we get you cleaned up and then .. we can properly unwind”. 

“Thank you” smiled y/n appreciatively as Michael handed her a small glass of whiskey. Making himself comfortable he scooted  closer to y/n who was bundled up by the fire in a blanket. “Room for one more?” He grinned . Y/n chuckled as she lifted up her arm inviting him into her blanket fortress. Y/n nested into his chest as he drew the blanket closer around them. The pair cuddled and chattered enjoying every last ounce of each other until they fell into a peaceful slumber wrapped in one another arms. 

There were several loud thuds at the door that came sharp and fast. The sort of firm knocks you’d expect from a police or debt collectors. Michaels eyes snapped open … y/n lay next to him still groggy not completely with it just yet. The knocks came again .. this time with more urgency than the last. He shot up and rearranged his hair and looked for a jumper of some description to fling on. He wondered who it could be … the house was his now as his adoptive parents moved away and left it for him… not many people knew about it and with it being such a sleepy town he didn’t know what required such urgency at this time of the morning. 

He made his way to the door , the peephole was no help as whoever it was stood extremely close obscuring his view so all he could make out was a tall dark figure. Cautiously he opened the door peering around it. The dark figure promptly spun round. Michael’s heart had simply failed to beat , his lungs void of air .. the ground beneath him had crumbled away as he stood face to face with Tommy. “ Michael” … “Tommy what brings you here?” He sprang into action not wanting to seem an ounce bit suspicious.

His tone was cool and controlled.

“Well Micheal" he said, using his index finger to push his glasses further up the bridge of nose " A few of the lads at the Garrison told me you were heading home for a couple days so thats how I knew where to find you … but Im here for someone else .. you see Micheal.. y/n said she was just popping out and just like that she never came home .. no one seems to know where she is and for the life of me I can’t seem to find her … you wouldn’t happen to know anything now … would you” ?

[travelling-on-the-octopath]

S Plays 'Golden Wildfire' - Part 4

Chapter 7 - A Contest of Beasts

as per request, @garlandgerard, here's what I've gleaned from GW this chater.

Story Content

Roundtable unanimously votes to go fuck up Adrestia

Front-line commanders are not so in favour of going to fuck up Adrestia

Such is war.

Oh??????? Tea? Lysithea and Marianne are having a very hard time believing Ordelia wants to fuck Adrestia because of how much it's already suffered.

God fucking dammit Claude I swear if this comes back to you-- (he said the count made Claude his proxy. mmmmmmm--)

Claude: "I just want to be clear about one thing. I'm not trying to invade the Empire because of some personal ambitions. Seizing House Bergliez's territory is essential to the future of the Alliance. That much won't change, whether we continue to wage war with the Empire or simply need a little leverage for peace talks. This fight is about protecting our future. So I'm asking you all to lend me your strength, because I can't do this alone."

Huh. I'll have to double check, but there's WAY more reluctance to fight this fight than what I've seen on Azure Gleam (Alliance Soldier, Linhardt though that's no surprise, Marianne, etc.). Even Claude acknowledges that his plan is contested. I know it's because the Kingdom, and by extension Dimitri, are being targeted, but it's certainly something I find interesting.

Claude's doubts rear their head again. Wondering if they're actually founded this time and if he should back the fuck up.

Okay, no, see, when these characters can't even remember each other's names, I have a hard time believing they're going to be really troubled by fighting them. (Hilda camp conversation.)

Lorenz states he doesn't have the right to express an opinion regarding Leicester's move on Adrestia. A unanimous decision in formality, I suppose, but all isn't as it seems.

Alliance general, from House Albany: "The Alliance is invading the Empire for the first time in history. The nobles need to present a united front. Though I don't even want to imagine how the roundtable meetings will go if this battle expands Alliance territory."

Ignatz, rightly, says the claiming gronder is a recipe for disaster because the Empire won't stand to lose their greatest plot of fertile soil.

Fun to note: everyone that wants to go fuck over Adrestia wants it done because they've lost someone to the war.

Count Bergliez plans to fuck up the Alliance without getting Edelgard involved because her main focus is on battling the Kingdom; that's where most of her forces are.

Hm, something to note: Count Bergliez says the field has been trampled beyond use.

NADER!!!!! KING LEGEND LIGHT OF MY LIFE HOW ARE YOU DOING

Learning that Shahid is kind of . . . not smart? lol?

Almyran solider: "General Nader, our troops are compeltely exhausted. Everyone's starving, and we're running out of water. [....] We didn't bring enough provisions? What is Prince Shahid thinking?"

Khalid was . . . the favourite? LOL, okay. Whatever you say, Three Hopes. (which isn't to say that he wasn't loved, but, uh . . .)

Shahid has an uncle; whether that's also the king of almyra's brother is unclear.

Yeah Shahid is certified incompetent on the battlefield.

Claude, his Hilda b-support: "Is it really responsible of me to keep letting the war drag on like this?"

Uh-oh.

I've said it before and I will say it again: His japanese VA brings such a lovely range to Claude's lines and I cannot thank him enough for it. he sounds so tender talking with Hilda

"Honestly, Hilda, I . . . I don't know what to do. Is my way really the right path forward? It feels like I'm rejecting everything Leicester used to be up until now. Like I'm tearing something important away from the people who need it most. Are you sure you won't regret lighting this fire in me?"

OR MAYBE . . . DON'T DO WHAT YOU'RE ABOUT TO DO I DON'T KNOW

Bergliez wants the war with the Alliance over and done with; Hevring, in his usual manner, says that Bergliez's intuition is rarely wrong and backs him up; Edelgard says the thought of armistice has also crossed her mind, and wants to focus all her attention on the Kingdom.

We are absolutely fucked, lads.

? Notable dialogue: Edelgard: Perhaps it's time we focus the entirety of our armies on the Kingdom front, and cease our attempts to conquer the Alliance through military means. Hubert, smiling: Hm, yes. Through military means.

When I tell you my stomach sank. Eugh.

Main Battle - The Battle at Gronder Field

Here we go folks

Jeralt and co. are here once again

The Imperial army is almost certainly pulling a fast one on me

Recruited Petra because I'm not a monster

???? Forced retreat??? Rock music? What's happening

It's twice now that I've seen the Byleth/Sothis v. Shez battle and it STILL fucks

Anyway Claude is panicked and I don't know why

OH. Almyra duh

Dimiclaude less-than-crumbs: story beats matching in how they're winning their respective battles until they get called back to the capital because someone's decided to cause problems

Side Battles

Saved people from bandits that were taking advantage of war's chaos and got to fuck up Metodey. All in all, a good day.

Misc.

Gatekeeper wants revenge on adrestia for fucking up Garreg Mach lgkdjfgj you go, legend!

DAMN LORENZ IS REALLY TRYING TO FUCK??? Selling his territory as an ideal place for Hilda to settle down--I see you!

Lysithea admitting to bein grateful for her friends even if she never says it fdkjdlkgj i fucking love her.

I really love Caspar's voice in Japanese <3<3

[faerociousbeast]

ok fair enough lol. founders?

anon carrying my inbox thankk you :)) and oo thats hashirama, madara, izuna, and tobirama, right? i think? again i haven't gotten much info on all of them where i'm at, but i think they're fine. more details under cut :D

mito: ok idk if she counts but if she does.. she is SO COOL? i'm really really hoping she gets some good moments when we learn more about founders era, don't have high hopes but from what i know so far, she's mega powerful. i don't remember if she actually wanted to marry hashirama or not though? i think it'd be interesting if it was arranged bc i'd want to know her feelings on that. i like her a lot

madara: uh.. yeah i'm on episode 304, so he's currently a bit. Hm. i am aware of all the secret identity things, but not too detailed so please don't spoil me even further lmao 😭😭 yeah usual stuff i didn't really care for him. he was just the overhyped oo super powerful guy but i couldn't really see him as a.. person?? i guess? but from the little fancontent i've interacted with, my opinion on him has drastically changed recently... bc yeah, the uchiha clan is not full of hatred, they just love so so hard. i know a bit about his thing w hashirama, and how the war against the senju lost him a lot of family, so he honestly just feels.. sorta tragic to me? i don't know his goals rn, or much of what he did in the past, but i am very very interested.

izuna: i like him. don't @ me i have already learned he basically is just a side character with like 2 scenes. but that's WHAT compels me the most, honestly? like already in canon, all he's ever been referred to is madara's brother.. the brother who gave his eyes..... and also, around the time he lives, everyone surrounding him is already POWERFUL as HELL. like it's clear they're gonna go down in the history books, and they already have so many titles- but even then, was izuna just regarded as oh, that's madara's little brother? it's such a weird paradox, bc i feel like he'd have a lot of feelings on self worth and not being regarded as his own person and his accomplishments paling in comparison to those around him and always being underestimated and never being allowed to speak for or represent himself, but there's so little content of him we don't know his feelings. feels bad man

tobirama: he's cool? ig? again, where i'm at, he hasn't really been.. regarded as a Person, yet, just as oo the powerful second hokage. he created a lot of jutsus. so it's hard for me to form an actual opinion. things i do know include: he created a lot of the forbidden jutsu of the leaf, he's serious compared to his idealistic older brother, and he holds a grudge against the uchiha (which makes sense i think? they were warring for so many years weren't they? he probably lost people to them too). maybe he also has some thoughts on being the younger brother, the second? perhaps he thinks it's illogical for hashirama to be thinking of creating a village, with the uchiha no less, after all those years of endless fighting? i don't know! but i hope to find out.

hashirama: this guy i REALLY know next to nothing about, least of all how i feel about him. i know he's like... Nice, or something, likes peace and stuff- but isn't he known as the god of shinobi? that's interesting. he's regarded as one of the most powerful ninja EVER, yet he doesn't seem to like fighting as much? he could probably do so much more damage than he did.... was he holding back? since madara supposedly lost and died, in their final battle, i'm guessing he's the one who had the statues at the valley of the end created? but what for? it's so far from the village. if they were warring so long, he must see the uchiha- or at least madara, as equal, to pose them like that. he founded the village, after all that fighting and slaughter. and he has grandchildren. wow. grandpa hokage. i guess i like him sorta

[secret-realm]

Pairing: gn!reader x Mammon (established relationship)

Word count: 631

A/N: I've been going to bed REALLY late lately (or should I say early, since I go to bed around 5 A.M. lol) due to my assignments. Although it gets really tiring as the days pass by, at least I'm getting inspired to write this.

Just a little bit longer. That is what you had told him, however, it had been already two hours since then and you were pretty much stuck sitting in the same spot.

Certainly, it would not take more than another hour before the sunlight were to start peeking through the curtains. The annoying light would be the proof of the beginning of a new agitated day, and Mammon was not going to miss another opportunity to cuddle with you.

It was not easy to convince you to do something, especially when you were being so stubborn. At least, that is what Mammon told himself. And since convincing you was not an option, he was ready to simply take you away from the desk.

He had been looking at you for a while now. He noticed how your tired eyes were fighting to keep themselves open, and how your fingers, that he was sure were probably freezing at the moment, were still typing down to complete yet another one of your assignments. Awful assignments that were taking you away from him.

Mammon thought it was the perfect time to take care of the situation himself, so he walked towards your desk and gently grabbed your hands between his. He discovered he was right about your hands, they were cold. You did not say a word but feeling the warm envelop your aching fingers made you sigh instantly.

"Oi, c'mere. Ya can barely keep your eyes open. And don't ya dare come at me with 'just a little bit longer' again. I ain't buyin' it" Mammon said, and even though he was scolding you, you could not help but smile once you noticed he was pouting.

You took your hands out of his grasp to type once again, and Mammon was ready to keep protesting because of your stubbornness when he noticed that you were nodding. Hold on, were you finally saying that you were going to bed with him? After all those failed attempts?

He looked at your laptop screen and noticed that you were saving the document. After that, you turned your laptop off and got back on your feet to stand next to your boyfriend.

“I’m really tired…” you said, your voice barely above a whisper. Then you pressed your face against his chest and allowed your arms to envelop him in a hug. He was really warm, and you could swear that suddenly some energy was back inside of your chest.

It was usually him getting your attention, so feeling that you needed him just as much made him feel important. You were always telling him how important he was for you, but he still thought it was nice to see you seeking his warmth.

His hands were brought to hold both your cheeks before he placed his lips against your forehead for a couple seconds.

"Kay' then, let's go, baby” he mentioned, and the next thing you knew was that he pulled your arms away from him to lift you up right after. Your face found the perfect spot to rest into the crook of his neck, and after a long day you finally got to rest your eyelids.  

Once he made it to your bedroom, he carefully placed you on the bed. Yes, maybe he tripped on the way there because he had left something on the floor earlier that day, but he did not drop you.

He tucked you into bed, and then he got inside as well, pulling you closer to hold you. Both of you would only get a couple hours of sleep before the alarm were to ring, but in that exact moment, when he was holding you, he was certain that there was nothing better than those moments. “Love you, my human…”

Although I know I need to finish my assignments, I'm well aware that sleeping the way I've been isn't healthy. Today I even had an annoying headache while I was in classes, ugh.

So, I hope you try to take care of your sleeping schedule, lovely people. At least, if you need to go to bed really late, I hope you can try and take a nap in the afternoon.

It doesn't really work for me, but I know that it is very useful for other people.

Other important aspect is to at least be constant regarding when you go to bed and for how long. Even if it's late, try to be consistent, and to sleep enough hours.

I hope you're doing well. Good luck on the rest of your week, and please stay healthy!

-L 🪐

Thursday 22nd, April.

[the-awkward-outlaw]

Bonjour ! How are you doing ? I've read you're depressed, I've been through it too, feel free to talk to me whenever you want ! Since you're my favourite writer, I've got an imagine request for you ! Imagine Leviticus Cornwall's young wife has been kidnapped by the gang. She's a classy british girl and she is very pretty, but she is not arrogant and is friendly with the gang. Arthur and her fall in love but Dutch want a ransom and doesn't want her to stay. You can choose the ending.Thank you :D

Awe thanks friend! My depression is luckily on the down low and I am in therapy to learn how to control it, but it’s awesome to hear that we support each other. If you need to talk, I’m here as well!

Sorry it took so long to do this one. Honestly this request could have turned into a multi-chapter fic! That being the case, it’s really long (only 20 pages lol). Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

(Author’s note: Arthur doesn’t have TB in this scenario) 

Word count: ~10,500

You look over at your husband across the breakfast table with disgust. Although it’s a rather rare occurrence for him to join you for your morning meal because his schedule is so full, you’d rather he never did. Of course, you’ve no say in any of this. You’re just his wife, his property. He’s made it clear more than once that he’s no interest in your feelings, your hopes and dreams. 

You’d grown up in London. Your father was and still is the owner of a prominent bank. When you were in your late teens, your father and mother decided to move to New York and start a new bank there. Your father saw the ocean of opportunity there. New York was a fast-growing city, and although it didn’t have the wealthy history of London, it had new sources of money that had yet to be tapped. Your father raved about the correctness people used when they called the area New England, for it was like it in many ways but so many of the people were “new money” and your father loved it. Within only a few years, your father’s new bank in New York took off so well he even built another one in Boston, which was where he decided to permanently locate you, your mother and younger brother. 

When you first arrived in America, you knew very little about the country and certainly nothing about the American West. The little you had learned about the country was mostly in regards to the Revolutionary War a little over a hundred years ago. How the Americans had basically won against the British with little more than varmint rifles and their unique strategies of outsmarting their rivals. You learned in school that thirty years ago America suffered a Civil War, something to do with slavery. You had no idea though that many of the states had wanted to become their own separate country. 

Your mother was aware that your knowledge of America was flimsy at best. Hers was the same way, so she encouraged you and your brother to go and learn about the history of America in order to appear knowledgeable about it despite being a foreigner. However, she wouldn’t let you study at Boston’s library. She insisted that, coming from a wealthy family, you should read from the University’s library and study with their tutors. Only common folk went to the public library, although you thought it would be a wonderful source to observe American culture firsthand. Per her wishes, you went to the University’s library with your brother, but you didn’t like it much. You felt that its books would have been no better than the library’s and the tutors were so stuck up and over-educated, it made you miserable. 

In London, you were constantly surrounded by the wealthier folk since they were the only ones your parents would let you be around as a child. When you moved to Boston though, you were old enough to disobey them and mix in with a different crowd. You found yourself enjoying the company of the middle class. They were not concerned with manners and etiquette. Many of them had a sense of humor you enjoyed and because they were not so caught up in their wealth, they had a sense of community the wealthier folk lacked. They cared about each other. That was something so unique to you that you absolutely loved. It made you openly disobey your mother and you went to learn about America in Boston’s library. They offered tutors as well, and they were friendlier and had a richer knowledge in basic history, not just the history in politics and the prestigious like the University’s tutors had. Some of the tutors had even been involved in some of the events you studied up on. One was a former doctor during the Civil War and he told you some awful yet intriguing stories about it. 

As you learned about America, you found yourself divulging into the American West. Of course you’d heard and learned a little about it as a child, the hot deserts with their cacti and the cowboys. However, as you learned about it now, you realized your previous knowledge had been minimal. You knew nothing of the true wildness of it. The outlaws, the sheriffs that were just as tainted as the criminals they sought. The tough ranchers who fought wars against wolves. The heartbreaking histories of the Natives that had lived and been treated like less than vermin by the settlers. The Mexicans who came and brought pieces of their own rich culture. It fascinated you. You’ve known nothing but civility and the West sounded like the opposite of it. Of course, you read a little about the wild gangs that flourished there and had no interest in experiencing them firsthand or even from a distance. 

Your husband wipes his mustache and beard with a napkin and stands up without looking at you. His servant Bradley comes forward, holding a book open for him to read. You know this book very well. It contains your husband’s daily schedules. You have one as well. You’re used to living by a tight schedule, having done it most of your life. Your husband studies it for a moment and then says something to Bradley. You don’t hear it, not that you care. Without a glance in your direction, your husband turns to leave when the butler, Mr. Blomsbury comes in. 

“Mr. Cornwall, the mayor of Saint Denis is on the phone for you.” 

“About time that wretch finally returns my calls,” Leviticus says. “I’ve been needing to discuss matters with him for far too long. He’s an idiot and I’m a fool for ever getting into business with him.” 

He leaves the room, followed by Blomsbury and Bradley. You sigh and finish your meal, your servant Marie comes forward to clean your plate. “Mrs. Cornwall, you have an appointment with your tailor in an hour. He is expecting you in the…” 

“Yes, Marie, I am aware of this,” you say kindly. “Please make sure the room is ready to receive him.” 

She curtsies and heads off. You dismiss the rest of the staff to do their other chores and head off to your own personal library to read a bit before the tailor arrives. You don’t want to go to this pointless party you’re being dressed for, but you’ve little choice in the matter. 

On your way to the library, you bump into Leviticus Cornwall. Your miserable husband. You apologize for bumping into him as you know it’s the last thing he will do. 

“Y/N, make sure you actually choose a flattering color to wear this time. That purple you wore to the last event washed you out. I had many people ask me if you were ill.” 

“You were the one who told me to wear purple, Leviticus. You wanted us to match, remember?” 

He ignores your remark. “Just pick something that actually looks good on you, Y/N.” He continues on down the hall to his study. 

You sigh. How you hate him. Being born with a silver spoon in hand, you thought your entire childhood you’d be able to afford the luxury of finding someone you loved to marry. In your early twenties, your father and mother took that opportunity completely out of your hands. All the other women your age they knew were already married and some were even mothers. Your father was at least generous enough to want to find you a husband who was wealthy enough to let you live comfortably the rest of your life. Soon after, Leviticus Cornwall became a client of your father’s. They talked much and your father found out that Leviticus was a widower. His wife had passed away some years ago from complications during her first childbirth. The baby hadn’t survived either. It was arranged shortly after your father met him that you two should at least become engaged. 

You were not happy when you found out. You’d recently met a young man at the library you were rather fond of. You knew your father would never accept him, he came from a middle class family. But he was your age, funny, attractive and very sweet. Just before you’d gotten the nerve to ask him out on a date, your father told you about your arrangements with Leviticus Cornwall. The man himself had been present when your father told you this, for Leviticus wanted to make sure you were at least pretty enough to be his fiance. When he saw you, he didn’t smile but he nodded approvingly. 

“She will do,” he said after circling you and assessing your body. “You didn’t tell me she was so young.”

“I have no control of her age, Mr. Cornwall,” your father replied. 

“No I suppose not,” Leviticus answered. “Still. You are lucky that I am a busy man and have no time nor patience to care for the opinions of others when it comes to my lifestyle. I hope she does not either, for some will think it inappropriate a man my age have a wife so young. A mistress, sure, but not a wife.” 

“Of course, Mr. Cornwall. But she will make a wonderful wife,” your mother assured him. “She’s smart, she went to the best girls’ school in London. She also has many skills, she learned to paint and sing from a young age. She’s also finely accustomed to riding a horse. Properly of course, not that uncivilized way some women choose to ride with a leg on either side.” 

Your mother was really selling you to him. Of course, you had learned how to do these things, but it didn’t mean you liked them. As far as riding side-saddle went, you detested it. There was little that was more painful than doing it that way, but of course you’d never ridden the way men did. 

After much discussion, mostly on the matters of your dowry, it was settled. You were to be married to this man whom you barely knew. Three months later, you became his wife, despite him still being mostly a stranger to you. He’d had so little availability during your engagement he rarely visited and when he did, all he talked of was the things he had to do, his businesses and the problems that came with them. How he was interested in buying stakes in certain companies or outright buying them altogether. 

When Leviticus became your husband, you moved with him down to Pennsylvania. He had the largest estate of any person you’d ever known. His mansion sat on over a hundred acres, some of them finely manicured but most used for livestock or farming. His stables themselves were huge and he even had an indoor riding arena, a rare thing to see. Leviticus bred horses on the side, although he did little of the business himself. 

You head off now to the parlor where you are meeting the tailor. After over an hour of measuring and discussing styles, you finally give the tailor the final order on your dress and head out of the room. Marie meets you in the hall and holds open your schedule. 

“Mrs. Cornwall, Mr. Cornwall has just received urgent news from New Hanover. His train traveling through Ambarino has just been robbed.” 

“Well, good for him,” you say, growing tired of hearing about nothing but your husband’s affairs. “I have other things to attend to.” 

“Actually, that’s just it, ma’am. Mr. Cornwall will be travelling later this evening to New Hanover in order to speak with the investigators. As he will be travelling, you are to accompany him.” 

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Of course he wants you to go with him. It’s not because he loves you, hell you’re just another possession of his. You’ll be there strictly for appearances. Marie does not wait for you to respond.

“Your things are already being packed, Mrs. Cornwall. Be ready to leave by this afternoon.” Without another word, she leaves.

You’ve had enough of this. Over the past few weeks, you’ve caught yourself fantasizing about a simpler life, one without schedules and a loveless marriage. One that doesn’t mean you’re surrounded by money but by opportunity. People won’t tell you where to go, how to dress, walk or talk. One where you’d be allowed to just be you. All your life, you’ve been told how to act, how to be. But before you got married and were still studying in the public library, you had all those friends who your father called “common folk”. Although they had undeniably less money, they were happy. Happier than your parents, happier than your husband surely. They were free to go where they wanted and be who they were. You’ve never had that luxury. 

Not only that, you don’t want to go with Leviticus on another boring trip to investigate nonsense with his business. What does it matter if his train got robbed? The criminals likely only took a few thousand dollars and Leviticus had enough to buy a small country if he wanted. Still, you know that if he lets this slide, he’ll feel he’s made himself a target and a fool. As you know, he is all about appearances. You come to the decision to talk to him about you staying here.

You find Leviticus in his study, going over some papers. Bradley stands attentive before him as Leviticus murmurs things about his train being robbed. 

“Mr. Cornwall,” you say as you rarely address him by his first name. 

“Not now, Y/N, I have something more important to see to.” 

“Mr. Cornwall, I want to talk to you about tonight,” you say, sounding more bold than you feel. 

He throws down the papers and glares at you. “What? What could you possibly want? Did you not hear that I have just been robbed?”

You stare right back at him. “I heard, but I don’t know why you’re making such a big ordeal of it. They couldn’t have taken more than a few thousand dollars. Do you not take more than that on a daily basis from the people who work for you?” 

His eyes darken. “I will not be told how to run my business by my own damn wife. Bradley, get out.” 

Bradley bows and leaves, shutting the door behind him. Leviticus stomps up towards you, his teeth bared. You stand your ground. He simply puts his face inches from yours and breathes hard, clearly trying to intimidate you. After a moment, he takes a step back. 

“Now go get ready. I want to leave in an hour or two.”

“I am not coming with you, Leviticus. You can deal with things on your own. Hell, I’ll just be shut up in some damp and poor excuse for a manor anyways. It’s not like you need me there to impress a governor. You’re simply overseeing an investigation of your own affairs.” 

Without warning, Leviticus turns and slaps you hard. You flinch and cup your cheek. Of course, this wasn’t unexpected. He’s hit you several times before, but most of the time he’s been decent enough to put your bruises in places others won’t see. 

“I said you’re coming with me and that isn’t changing just because you don’t feel like it,” he hisses. 

You lower your hand and glare at him again. “No I’m not, Leviticus. It’s completely pointless for me to go with you. You can’t make me-” 

He slaps you again and this time you feel your lip burn. Pulling your hand away, you see a spot of blood on your finger. 

“Don’t make me hurt you,” he snarls. 

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” you say, your eyes watering from the stinging of your face. He raises his hand again but does not swing. 

“If you think what you feel now is pain, you’re in for a surprise, Y/N. Now go get ready. I won’t tell  you again. I’ll drag you out to the carriage by your ears if you don’t come willingly.” 

You take his threat seriously. His servants will not hesitate to force you into his carriage, they’re just as frightened of him as you are. Everything in his life he rules over with an iron fist. His eyes flash as you stand there and you quickly dart out of the room, knowing that to stay means further abuse. 

When you arrive in your dressing room, Marie applies a powder to your face to hide the red welt rising on your face. She says nothing to comfort you though and then she helps you into a dress suitable for travelling in. When you’re done, you dismiss her, claiming you need some time alone. She curtsies and leaves, closing the door. 

You’re done with this. This life, this marriage. You want no part of it. Of course, your parents aren’t a help. They’re the ones who arranged this marriage for you in the first place. You’re going to escape though, and this trip is the perfect opportunity. You know there will be ample opportunities to escape, after all your staff aren’t that tough. They simply take care of you, not act as a guard. 

Quickly, you grab a bag and stuff several items of jewelry into it, knowing you can trade them for money. You won’t go east or north towards Boston or New York. When Leviticus discovers you’ve gone, he will search for you and those directions will be the first place he looks since they’re the only places you’ve been. You’ll head west. Maybe you’ll act as a house maid or something of the likes, except you’ve no workable skills. You’ll work out those details later. Right now you focus on your escape and how you’ll be able to afford living on your own. 

You head into your large closet and grab a small black box behind a rack of overcoats. In it is stored a few thousand dollars Leviticus always keeps in case of emergency. You swiftly empty it, stuffing the bills into your bag. Then you tuck the bag under the skirt of your dress. With a belt, you secure it around your waist where no one will notice its presence. 

A few moments later, Marie enters the room again. “Mrs. Cornwall, the coach is ready. Mr. Cornwall reminds you that you are obligated to accompany him.” 

You nod and grab your gloves, slipping them onto your arms and following her out. Once outside, you hold your head high and Stanley, your coachman, offers his hand to help you inside it. Once you’re settled, you wait a few minutes before Leviticus joins you. You ignore each other as the coach moves.

You’re taken to the train station where you ride inside Leviticus’s personal car and head down to Annesburg. There, Leviticus puts you on another coach but does not accompany you as he wants to discuss buying a stake in the Annesburg mine. You don’t care, of course. Soon his business won’t be any concern of yours. 

The coach leaves Annesburg and heads west in New Hanover. Stanley explains  you’re to stay in a small manor near the border of West Elizabeth. The coach travels further away from Annesburg.

The sun is setting and the coach travels along long grassy plains. Deer dash away from the trail at the sight of your coach. The coach travels over some tracks and then comes to a halt. The driver explains the horses need to rest and feed. Stanley gets out of the coach in order to stretch his legs. You wait for a moment, knowing he’s going several yards away in order to smoke. The driver of the coach is not paying you any attention either as he fiddles with the feed sacks, attaching them over the horses noses. 

Now is your chance. You swiftly look around for anyone who might be watching, but no one’s around. Two men are playing dominoes on the train platform but they don’t even glance your way. A train rumbles up and then stops, preparing to take on passengers. As quickly as you can manage with your heavy gown, you dash out of the carriage and onto the train, not bothering to buy a ticket. Just as quickly, you settle into a seat on one of the finer cars, knowing that you look the part of someone who belongs there. You fidget with your hands, afraid someone spotted you. You keep a close eye on the driver of the coach and Stanley, who’s still smoking. Before either of them even start looking towards the carriage, the train’s whistle blows and begins to move. 

You breathe a sigh of relief as the station disappears behind you and you check again that your bag of stolen money and jewels is still attached to you. You’ll get off at the first station, knowing that a ticketmaster is likely to come around and see everyone aboard has paid. Almost on queue, he comes into your car and starts making his way around. When he gets to you, you slip a ring with a large ruby on it in order to bribe him. He nods and goes on his way. You realize you should have asked him that he’d never seen you on this train, but he’s gone at this point. Oh well, he likely won’t remember your face anyways. 

The train chugs north. You know by this point Stanley knows you’re gone. How could he not know? The coach had only stopped for a few moments. You’re sure at this point they must know you’re on the train. There was nothing else around that could whisk you away so quickly. Now you’re beginning to see the flaws of your plan. At least you have it in your favor that a train is much faster than a coach. 

A little over an hour goes by and the train begins to slow after coming out of a long, dark tunnel. It stops at an old military station, the name “Bacchus” written above a rickety door. Some men, dressed in army uniforms, stand on the platform. When the train stops, you see men begin moving some boxes and barrels off a flatcar towards the rear of the train. Now is the time to leave.

You head outside, glad that none of the other passengers questioned your movements. Once off the train, you travel south, following the road but staying off it in case the coach happens to come along this way. 

You’ve never been this far west before, but the country is beautiful. Tall, wispy aspens flutter their leaves in the gentle evening breeze. An elk lifts his proud head from a berry bush and stares at you, almost as though he knows he’s far more of a threat to you than you are to him. He goes back to browsing as the sun dips beyond the mountains. 

Now you’re faced with another predicament. You’ve never slept outside and you don’t know the first thing about how to start a fire or find shelter. However, in a cluster of trees just south of the road, you see flickering firelight. Approaching it, you see a wagon and near it, surrounding the fire, is a blond man, his wife and two children, a boy and a girl. You approach slowly and the man looks up. 

“Ah, hallo, gnädige Frau!” he says. You swallow. Of course, you took German when you were younger, but it’s been many years. 

“Guten Abend,” you respond. His smile is warm and his family looks at you kindly, though they have already noticed how out of place you look in your heavy dress, feathered hat and high heels. You ask them if you could use their fire for the evening and they agree brightly. 

You sit down, thanking them and the boy hands you a plate of Bratwursts and the girl offers you some German bread. You thank them again and eat, feeling quite hungry. As the sky grows darker, the family talks in their native tongue. You’ve forgotten most your German lessons, but still manage to pick up a few words. 

“Ich haben ein Fragen,” the woman says to you. You recognize the word Fragen: question. You nod in recognition. “Was machst du hier?” 

“What?” you ask, not understanding that line. 

She gestures your clothes and then the fire. She wants to know why you’re here. You’ve no idea how to translate your predicament into their language. The young girl tugs on your sleeve. 

“Ich kann etwas Englisch sprechen.” You nod.

“I am running away from my husband,” you say slowly enough that the girl can translate to her parents. “He is very rich but I am not happy with him.” 

“Bist du schon lange gelaufen? Bist du mit dem Boot hierher gekommen?” The girl looks at you.

“Have you been running long? Did you come here by boat?” 

You realize they must be confused by your accent. Although you’ve lived in America many years now, you still retain a decent amount of your British accent. 

“No, no I only just ran away. I came here on a train, but my stagecoach driver and servant will be looking for me and they know I took the train.” 

The parents nod, understanding now how you came to be at their fire. 

“You are welcome to stay with us tonight,” the girl translates for her mother. “We are headed for Valentine tomorrow and can drop you off there.” 

You thank them again and finish your meal. Not longer after, they show you a place under a canopy they’ve stretched over a spot of grass next to their wagon you can use. They’ve nothing to offer you except an old blanket. You take off only your shoes and hat and fall into an uncomfortable sleep. 

 **********************

In the morning, the family takes you to the small town of Valentine. There, you say your goodbyes and head into the general store where you trade in some jewels for money and buy some shirts and pairs of jeans. You’ve never worn pants before, but you figure the less you look like yourself, the easier you can hide. By this time surely, Stanley will have found a way to reach your husband and tell him of your disappearance. Leviticus may see you as nothing but property, but he will want you back, so you know he will begin a raging hunt. You desperately hope he never finds you as you hate to think what he’ll do to you if he does.

After buying clothes, provisions and a satchel to store things in, you head over to the stables and buy a tall cherry bay Thoroughbred named Willow. Only when the stablemaster comes out holding a heavy saddle do you realize another problem: you’ve never ridden with one leg on each side of the horse, only side saddle. Still, when you lead Willow out of the stables, you climb awkwardly into the stable and try your best to secure yourself in it, though it feels very foreign to you. You almost decide to buy a pistol from the gunsmith but realize that’s a foolish decision. You don’t know the first thing about guns and could very well end up shooting yourself. You decide it’s best to try and keep heading west, further from your home. 

As you head south and away from Valentine, only going at a walk since you’re unaccustomed to riding this way, Willow snorts and stomps her foot, coming to a stop. You try urging her to walk on, but she just snorts again. Looking on the ground, you see a rattlesnake on the path, coiled and rattling its tail at her. Willow suddenly rears up and throws you to the ground before darting off into the trees. The snake slithers off, but your shoulder hurts terribly from where it slammed into the ground. 

“You a’right, ma’am?” a voice asks. 

Looking behind you, you find the picture-perfect example of a cowboy sitting astride his horse. His dark gambler’s hat shades his eyes from the sun and his blue shirt is worn and dirt. He looks at you, his face tanned and dirty from days of being in the sun and the wild, his jaw stubbled with a short beard. You notice his blue eyes. 

“Yes, I’m alright,” you say, standing up and clutching your shoulder. “My horse was spooked by a snake.” 

“I saw,” he says, dismounting his horse. “You need help catchin’ her?” 

“Could you help?” you say, grateful he’s offering. “That would be lovely, sir.” 

He tips his hat and then runs off into the trees where Willow went. You hear him talking to her in a gentle voice. A moment later, he leads her out. You thank him and then try mounting up, but what was a difficult task before is even harder now that your shoulder’s hurt. 

“You need help, ma’am?” he asks again. 

You nod and with a wavering voice explain that you’re new to this. He huffs a small laugh. “New to ridin’ a horse, sounds like ya just came here from London or someplace. You sure you’re doin’ a’right?”

You realize he’s not asking about your physical being, but more about your situation. 

“To be honest, no sir. I’m… well, I come from a wealthy family but my husband died in a… a bad way and I had to run. Only I don’t know the first thing about being on my own.” You hope  he doesn’t hear the lie. 

“That much is clear,” he says, his hands on his hips. He looks rather attractive as he does and you blush and look away. He sighs heavily. “Well, sounds like you need help. Now I ain’t exactly clean in my own history, but I’m willin’ to offer you help until you get settled. Come on.” 

He helps you into your saddle and then leads you further down the road and into a large cluster of trees where a large camp is nestled. Over the next few hours, you’re forced to sit by the horses as the man who helped you discusses with two other men whether you should be allowed to stay. In the end, they agree you can with the warning that if you mention them to anyone, particularly lawmen or Pinkertons, they will not be forgiving. 

“Trust me,” you say to a tall man with a large black mustache and dark eyes. “I’ve no interest in speaking with lawmen. My husband will likely have them in his pockets, so they are just as much my enemy as they are yours.” 

The man nods and walks away, asking a middle-aged woman with a thick bun on her head to help you set yourself up.

*******************************

Over the next few weeks, you learn that the camp you’re living with is a gang of outlaws, led by Dutch Van der Linde. His second in command is Hosea Matthews and the man who brought you here, named Arthur Morgan, is his right hand man. 

Your introduction to the rest of the gang was not the smoothest as the matriarch, a woman named Susan Grimshaw, went into a right fit when she learned you have no domestic skills. “I never heard somethin’ so ridiculous in all my life!” she said. “Can’t even wash clothes!” 

The other girls were kind enough to teach you how to do the chores around camp. You knew how to sew at least, not because you ever had to repair your own clothing but because you’d learned as a child how to embroider and knit. Luckily, sewing up the gang’s clothing is similar work, though with little art. 

You like learning how to cook with a man named Simon Pearson. He’s quick to tell jokes, although he tells a lot of stories about his days with the navy and he only knows how to make a few things. You do somewhat miss having three-course meals three times a day, but you know you won’t starve here. 

Most of the people in camp are kind and curious about you, although you tell them nothing of your husband’s real identity. You’ve told them all he died and never mentioned his name. For some reason, you get the feeling that to let slip the fact that your husband is Leviticus would be a bad thing. Cornwall’s got a lot of business out this way and he’s made a lot of enemies. You simply tell the others that your husband and you moved down here from London a few years back but he’s always been an abusive, hateful bastard and because you’re in America, the land of opportunity, you finally had a chance to get away from your life after his death. The others scoff at you calling this place the land of opportunity, saying there’s little of that to go around for people like them. 

*******************************

You’ve become quite close to this gang that has quickly become your family over the last few weeks. Although most of them have their own sordid pasts, they’re good people. They have a sense of family you’ve never seen before, considering they come from a background your father would call “degenerate”. You’ve never seen people work so quickly and with such a sense of duty. Of course, that doesn’t mean they don’t have their problems with each other. Arguments do break out, but most of them seem to be for show and rarely end in physicality. 

Only a week after you’d shown up, Arthur and some of the others came back with a red-haired man named Sean. You instantly knew he was Irish the moment he spoke. Since you both came from across the pond, you became close friends. You would have liked to get to know a woman named Molly O’Shea better as she was also Irish and she clearly came from a privileged background, but she didn’t seem interested. 

The person who was most interested in you though was Arthur, the man who’d brought you here. Of course, you were extremely interested in him too and it didn’t take long for you to get feelings for him. He works the hardest out of all of them and he cares about everyone. You saw him bring Mary-Beth a fancy fountain pen one day after she’d mentioned she wanted one. During his rare breaks when he was in camp, he’d often come find you. He claimed he just wanted to make sure you were settling in fine, but you noticed he stuck around you more than the others. He asked a lot of questions about your past, what your childhood and marriage was like, why you left. You told him everything except who your husband was and the fact that he wasn’t really dead. 

When you mentioned you lived your entire life being waited upon, he told you it sounded awful. “How did you not feel like a prisoner?” he asked. You were caught off guard by the question. Before you’d run away, you never felt that way. Now that you’re out here though, completely responsible for yourself, you realize you might as well have been a prisoner. You feel slightly envious about the others, realizing that even though none of them (except perhaps Molly) grew from well-off families, they’re wealthier in something you missed out on in life. All of them have tradable skills that you’re just now learning. Not only that, none of them have to put on a mask, hide who they are. Karen’s not shy about her drinking habits. Tilly used to run with a vicious gang and sometimes she talks about what that was like. No one in camp has ever had to pretend to be someone else. Something you were never allowed to do. 

You sit now with the girls, reading aloud from a book Mary-Beth gave you. Although you often worked with them, they liked you to read aloud. Something about your accent, you suspected. Just as you’re reading a rather romantic scene from the almost sickeningly passionate story, Arthur walks over to your group, clearly wanting to see what’s going on. He has a habit of doing that, which you find endearing. You hide your smile and continue reading as he stops, his hand on his gunbelt. He smiles as he listens, his eyes soft. 

Just as he’s about to say something, John Marston walks over and punches his arm. “Come on, Arthur. Got a job for ya. We’re gonna steal some sheep but need to go to Valentine for something.” 

“Fine,” Arthur says gruffly. Not long after they leave, Dutch and Strauss head off too. 

An hour or so later, the four men come back looking sweaty and angry, Strauss’s leg is bleeding. You’re washing some plates by Pearson’s wagon and Hosea marches over to them. 

“Dutch, Dutch what happened?” 

Dutch dismounts his white horse. “Turns out old Leviticus Cornwall don’t take too kindly to being robbed.” You freeze when you hear the name, but Dutch doesn’t notice. “He came up and tried to kill us, wants us to stop robbing him. We’ll have to leave this place, we had to shoot half the town in order to escape.” 

You follow Dutch into his tent, staying a few steps behind as you listen to him and Hosea. They talk a little more about what led to them being shot at, but neither of them mention knowing Leviticus has a runaway wife. You breathe a sigh of relief. They don’t know, and if they do, they don’t know it’s you. 

******************************

After fleeing Horseshoe Overlook, Arthur and Dutch both agreed you needed to learn how to rob, ride a horse properly and shoot a gun. Arthur took it on himself to teach you those things and he was an incredible instructor: patient, knowledgeable but not arrogant. The more time you spent with him, the deeper your feelings got. A nagging suspicion settled in your gut that he liked you too. It was just the soft way he spoke to you, how his hands lingered on yours when he taught you how to shoot a shotgun. One time you slid right off Willow’s back and he came over to help you up, but his hands stayed on your arms too long. 

It didn’t take long for rumors to get out that you and Arthur were sweet on each other. Of course, you tried denying them, more to protect Arthur than yourself. No way could he want to be with you: a spoiled rich girl who didn’t even know how to sew a button on a shirt when he met you. He never treated you like a spoiled brat and he mentioned to you time and time again how sweet and honest you’ve been with everyone. 

One night after Arthur, Karen, Bill and Lenny robbed the bank in Valentine, Dutch demanded a party for their success as they brought back a lot of cash. Everyone drank and sang together, but it wasn’t long before Sean, Uncle and Lenny started needling Arthur for having a crush on you. He denied it again and again until John came up and joined the fun, stating how obvious it was with a list of examples of his behavior that proved he liked you. 

“I bet you ten dollars, Morgan,” John said, “that if you went over there and kissed her on the mouth right now, that girl would be blushing like crazy and wouldn’t even be mad. I know she likes  you.” 

“Shut your damn mouth, Marston,” Arthur retorted. That was until the other boys joined in on the bet, which climbed up to fifty dollars. All he had to do was kiss you in front of everyone right now. He’d had a lot of whiskey and his face was bright red, but when he looked at you sitting at the round table singing with Grimshaw, he couldn’t help but feel his heart flutter. You looked so beautiful in the light of the lantern, your cheeks pink from your own drunken state. 

“Go get her, son,” Hosea said. Arthur looked at him and then got up, walking slowly over to you. He fidgeted with his hands, terrified but fueled by drink. When he got to your table, he stopped. 

“Y/N, I got somethin’ to say to ya,” he said. 

You smiled and stood up so he could address you. “Alright, Mr. Morgan. What is it?” 

He stammered for a bit, his face growing redder. He hid his eyes beneath his hat and his hands were shaking. God, he was cute when he was nervous. 

Without warning, he suddenly grabbed you and bent you slightly backwards, his lips planting on yours. Out of all the things Arthur could have done that night, that was certainly the last thing you expected. You almost pulled away, but his lips were warm and rough against your smooth skin. He smelled nice too, like pine and leather although you could taste the alcohol on his lips. Forgetting that you had an audience, your hand wove up behind his neck, pulling him closer. Your chest grew warm and a light feeling overcame you, making you kiss him back. 

Someone whistled at you and Arthur, followed by several people laughing. That brought you back down to the present and Arthur pulled away from you and then straightened you up. His face was horribly red, but he was smiling. “Sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I hope I didn’t frighten ya.” 

“Maybe a little, but I liked it,” you said, your hand still on his chest. You glanced at the onlookers as they continued to laugh and tease you. You bit your lip and looked up at Arthur. “What say you we go somewhere more private and try that kiss again?” 

He quickly grabbed your hand and led you off into the trees and then onto a moon-bathed beach by the lake. There, you two ended up doing much more than kissing, although that’s how it started. Encouraged by your drunken states, you were the one who got carried away and stripped out of your clothes in order to swim in the lake to relieve the heat of the air and your body. Arthur followed soon after, but you remember the way he watched you swim. Not long after, you ended up lying with him on the beach, his body glowing silver under the moon. You climbed onto him just to kiss him, but as you were naked and alone, it didn’t take much to end up going further. 

Although the only man you’d slept with before had been Leviticus, it was never on your terms and he only did things with you for a moment before he reached his satisfaction and was done with you. However, Arthur was so different. He touched you in just the right places, his rough hands gliding along your naked back and hips. He felt amazing inside of you as well, almost as though your bodies were molded for the other’s. He’d gotten you to release first then followed shortly after. You never knew sex could be so passionate and emotional, but Arthur made you feel and think things you’d never experienced before. 

The morning after had been a bit awkward when the two of you woke up naked on the beach, still wrapped around one another. You had a pounding headache and knew Arthur did too. When you remembered what you’d done together, you both panicked a moment. Had you really slept with Arthur the same night you found out he loved you back? The two of you dressed but stayed on the beach and talked things out. You came to the decision that what had happened had felt right and you wanted to stay together. After that, you were very open with your relationship to Arthur with the rest of the gang. 

That all happened weeks ago, and you’ve grown to love him more than you thought possible. You’d dreamed of finding a man to love as a child, but had no idea it felt like this. Even as a child, the men you’d imagined you’d love couldn’t hold a candle to Arthur. He’s thoughtful and secretly sensitive, but protective and strong. You remember the way he held you when Sean died, almost crushing you as you sobbed into his chest. Another time in Saint Denis, a man on the street had said something rather rude about you and Arthur punched him in the jaw. “You don’t get to say shit about my girl, ya hear?” he roared as the man fled. You couldn’t dream of a more perfect man to love than Arthur Morgan. 

You were crushed when Hosea and Lenny died and most of the gangs’ men, including Arthur, ended up on a boat and stranded on Guarma. You never thought you’d miss anyone so much, but during the couple of weeks that he was gone, you felt physical pain in his absence. You spent many nights lying on his cot clutching one of his shirts, willing his scent to stay and offer you some level of comfort. When he returned, it was like you could breathe again. Shortly afterwards though, the Pinkertons forced you and the gang to flee Lakay and into Beaver Hollow, an old Murphree hideout. 

That’s where you are now. While things with the gang have always had rough patches, now they’re worse than ever. People fight constantly and Dutch seems to be losing his mind. He’s changed from the intelligent, cunning but caring man into someone who’s still intelligent and cunning but enjoys killing. It doesn’t help that Micah constantly hisses into his ear. 

Over the past few months of travelling with the gang, you’ve heard relatively little from and about your husband. Somehow you’ve managed to avoid the patrols he’s likely sent out to look for you and you only saw your name show up once in an article in the Saint Denis paper about your disappearance. However, with tensions in the camp running higher than ever and Dutch acting so mad, you’re beginning to fear things are about to come to a head with you at the center. 

Micah strolls into camp, holding a newspaper under his arm and followed by Bill. They’ve just come from Annesburg, having scouted there for possible leads on scores. You’re standing at Pearson’s wagon, preparing tonight’s stew. Micah gives you a knowing and dark smile that you don’t like as he heads to Dutch’s wagon. A bad feeling comes into your stomach and you follow behind him a few steps. 

“Dutch, I just found somethin’ out. Somethin’ that could be real useful. Somethin’ with ol’ Cornwall,” Micah simpers at him. 

Dutch lowers his cigar and looks at Micah expectantly. Micah rubs his hands together. 

“Did you know ol’ Cornwall’s married and his little wife ran away right after we robbed his train up in Ambarino?” 

“How is this any use to us?” Arthur demands, having been attracted by the name Cornwall. “Not like we’re gonna find her.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, cowpoke. Turns out we already found her and she’s right there.” Micah spins and points right at you. Everyone in camp stops and stares at you as your blood runs cold. 

“Shut up, Micah,” Arthur growls, walking up to your side to protect you. “Y/N’s husband’s dead.” 

“Or is he?” Micah retorts. He flings the newspaper at Arthur. “Read it and weep, Morgan.” 

Arthur furrows his brow but opens the newspaper. “N-no, don’t!” you plead, but too late. There’s a black and white photograph of you standing arm in arm with Leviticus Cornwall, your unsmiling faces staring up at Arthur. He reads the first bit of the article aloud. 

“Leviticus Cornwall, executive of Cornwall Kerosene and Tar, Cornwall Rails blah blah blah has released a new statement regarding the disappearance of his wife. Back in May, Mr. Cornwall’s train was robbed in Ambarino by the notorious Van der Linde gang. In order to investigate the robbery, Mr. Cornwall and his wife Y/N came down from their home in Pennsylvania. Mr. Cornwall last saw his wife in Annesburg when she left to stay in his residence in New Hanover. It was reported that she did not arrive at the home but her stage driver and chauffeur, Mr. Stanley Wilcox, claimed she was missing shortly after arriving at Emerald Ranch. It was unknown then if they had been involved in her disappearance or if she’d been kidnapped by other means.”

“Earlier this month, a citizen of Saint Denis stated he’d seen Mrs. Cornwall in the city. ‘I’d just visited the Cornwall manor a week previously on business with my brother,’ Mr. Henry Larson reports. ‘I saw a painting in a hallway of Mr. Cornwall and his wife Y/N. I recognized her immediately. She was dressed like a farm girl but it was definitely her.’”

“A few days after this incident was reported, authorities had reached Mr. Cornwall about his wife’s appearance, but before he could arrive, the Saint Denis Massacre occurred in which the previously mentioned Van der Linde gang attempted to rob the city’s bank and a shootout between them, the city’s law enforcement and the Pinkerton Detective Agency occurred. The gang of outlaws has since fled the area, but rumors speculate that Mrs. Cornwall is among them. If anyone holds any information towards her whereabouts, they are greatly urged to come forward. Mr. Cornwall has offered a considerable $20,000 to anyone who can find his wife and return her safely.” 

Arthur lowers the paper, his eyes dark. Your hands are trembling. The cat’s out of the bag now and you’re in big trouble. Micah sniggers as Arthur looks at you, his eyes tell you the betrayal and pain he feels. 

“You’re Y/N Cornwall,” he says as a tear slides down your cheek. 

“Only on paper,” you say. “I didn’t know how to tell you.” 

“Oh because it was so hard to say ‘hello, I’m Y/N Cornwall, you just robbed my husband but do you mind if I run with you fellas a while’ when you first arrived?” Micah taunts. Dutch’s eyes are narrowed slightly, the way they do when he’s got a plan coming together. 

You look around at everyone staring at you in shock. Some look like they have a hard time believing it, Mary-Beth and John for example, while others look angry and hurt. Arthur is among them. He drops the newspaper and takes a step back from you.

“All this time,” he says quietly. “All this time and you never mentioned once you’re his goddamn wife!” 

Another tear falls. “I’m sorry, Arthur. Everyone, I’m sorry. But how was I supposed to tell you the truth? You robbed my husband, he tried to kill you. Not only that, I was never married to him by choice. My parents basically sold me to him and he’s never made me happy. Maybe… maybe I was just happy to finally be around people who didn’t associate me with him for once.” 

You clasp your hands in front of you, willing any of them to understand. Dutch walks slowly towards you, his jaw set. Micah follows behind, looking excited.

“You’re Y/N Cornwall. The man who has been hunting us for months. The man who holds the ticket to our freedom from this cesspit of a country. I think I have a new plan.” 

His eyes narrow, glittering. You suddenly realize what he’s thinking. 

“Dutch, please don’t take me to him. I’m begging you. If he finds me again, he’ll kill me. I don’t even know if he’ll pay you for me. Dutch, he hates you and your boys more than anything, you were the only ones stupid enough to rob him. I know for a fact he’s paying the Pinkertons to hunt you down.” 

“How do you know this?” John asks, standing next to Arthur.

“Because I know Leviticus better than any of you,” you say. “He obviously figured out pretty quickly that the gang from Blackwater were the same ones to rob him. He also must have found out the Pinkertons were looking for you, so I’ve no doubt he contacted them and started putting money into their pockets.” 

“Or you’re the rat we’ve been looking for,” Micah sneers. “Maybe you’re the one telling the Pinkertons our every move. Think about it, Dutch. All our problems with them started right after we took her in. She’s been lying to us from the start.” 

You don’t know what to say in your defense. Since you have lied to them from the start about your true past, there’s nothing you can do to say you aren’t lying to them now.

“Dutch, please,” you whisper, your lower lip trembling. 

He sighs and stares hard at you. “Tie her up.” 

Before you can move, two pairs of hands grip you tight and throw you down, your hands and feet being tied up. People are yelling, you hear Sadie screech and Arthur roar. You start trying to look around to ask someone for help, but a black cloth is tied around your head, covering your eyes. Someone shoves another cloth into your mouth, preventing you from speaking. You can still hear though. 

“Dutch!” Arthur roars. “Let’s talk about this! We can’t take her to Cornwall! Like she said, ain’t no guarantee he’d pay us after all the problems we given him.” 

You feel yourself thrown over a horse’s back as Dutch says, “This is the right move, Arthur. I don’t like it, but she’s used us and this is our best shot at getting out of here. Heyaw!” 

The horse beneath you suddenly begins to run and you can hear the pounding of other horses. Arthur still yells at Dutch, trying to make him think logically, but Dutch ignores him. 

After a while of heavy riding in which you feel like all your ribs and your stomach have been heavily bruised from the horse’s movements, they stop. You can smell the thick coal dust and the smell of polluted water. Someone’s hands grab you and you’re set on your feet, the ropes cut. The bandana and gag are removed and you see you’re standing on the pier of Annesburg, a boat docked. The name of it is The Soaring Emily. Leviticus named it that after his first wife. 

“Cornwall!” Dutch hollers, keeping a painfully tight hold on your arm. “Cornwall! Get out here! My friends and I have a proposal for you!” 

Looking behind you and Dutch, you spot Bill, Micah, John and Arthur. Arthur looks at you, pain in his eyes. He doesn’t want to do this, but nothing can stop Dutch in his roll. 

A door on the ship’s deck opens and Leviticus Cornwall steps out, flanked by a group of men, all holding rifles. His eyes glare at you and then to Dutch.

“My friend,” Dutch says. “I heard tell that your lovely wife got away from your clutches. Well, just so happens, she’s been stowing away with me and my boys for the last few weeks. Rumor says you’re wanting her back, so we’re here to make a deal. You give me and my boys that $20,000 and a boat. You get your wife back and we’ll stop robbing from you. In fact, you’ll never hear from us again.” 

Leviticus just laughs. “Mr. Van der Linde, I admire your determination and your daring, but if you think I will give you a single penny, then you’re sorely mistaken.” 

“How about now?” Dutch responds, pulling out his pistol and aiming it at your temple. He pulls the back the hammer, your heart pounding in your ears as more tears fall down your cheeks. Dutch wouldn’t kill you, would he? After all the time you spent in his camp, helping feed the others and bring in money, he’s just going to kill you. Something tells you he will if he doesn’t get his way. 

“Dutch,” Arthur hisses a warning behind him. He’s ignored.

“Now Mr. Cornwall, I know what it’s like to see the woman you love die by the hands of your greatest enemy. Now while I doubt poor Y/N here is the love of your life, you obviously value her in some way. Which would you rather keep? Her life or your money?” 

Cornwall glares back at him, his teeth bared. “I’m a businessman, Mr. Van der Linde. Business doesn’t care for feelings or love. Shoot her if you must, but I will not give you anything!” 

Your stomach drops as you realize that this is it. Dutch is just crazy enough that he won’t care about shooting a member of his own gang. You’re not surprised at all that Leviticus is willing to let you die. To him, you’re replaceable, a mere object. Still you thought you mattered to the others, to Arthur. 

Before anyone can do anything to save you from Dutch’s grip, Dutch nods. “You sure? Fine, I prefer it this way.” He suddenly swings the gun forward and shoots Cornwall, the bullet piercing his chest. He pushes you down as Cornwall’s men begin firing, the others shooting back. The gang begins to run as more men come out from the boat, leaving you where you’ve fallen. You start to scream, begging for help, but it seems no one can hear you amidst the gunfire. 

Suddenly a pair of hands grabs your arms and cuts the length of rope binding them, then they lift you up. “Come on, sweetheart,” Arthur’s rough voice says as you stand. 

You’re shaking hard and you want nothing more than to throw your arms around him, but now isn’t the time. Sharp gunshots litter the air, echoing off the buildings. Arthur grabs your hand and runs north on the train tracks. When you reach a bridge going over a sharp dip in the land, a path running through it, he stops. 

“You go, darlin’,” he says, breathing hard. “Go, don’t come back to Beaver Hollow. It ain’t safe for you there.” 

“Arthur, I’m sorry,” you say, thinking he’s pushing you away because he’s mad. 

“Just go, darlin’. I’ll come find you when I can. But you can’t come back, ya hear? You do and you’re dead.” Before you can say anything else, he’s running back down the bridge towards Annesburg to rejoin the gang. You know he can’t leave of course. Not now anyways. Dutch and the others still depend on him too much. 

You flee from Annesburg, having no idea where you’ll go or what you’ll do. Your horse is back at Beaver Hollow, but luckily all your money and the few pieces of jewelry you stole from Leviticus are in your satchel. You run north towards Willard’s Rest and then stop by the wide river where you finally break down. The past few weeks come rushing through you, the good and the bad. You know since Guarma, Dutch has gone crazy but you never thought he’d turn on you like that. Not when he’s spouted for weeks about having loyalty and faith to anyone who would listen. Your life has come crashing down around you so swiftly, you aren’t sure how to process it. 

You stay here for a few hours, going between sobbing, missing the gang (especially Arthur) and feeling numb. As the sun begins to set, you look down the path and see Arthur riding up, your horse in tow. When you see him, you begin to cry again. You don’t run to him though, knowing how hurt he must be. 

He dismounts and walks over to you, pulling you into a tight hug which surprises you. “Arthur, I’m so sorry,” you wail into his shirt. “I never meant to hurt you.” 

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he says into your hair. “I know why ya lied. Hell, I probably would’ve too. But everything else you said, was it true?” 

“Everything is. The way I grew up, how I was sold to him. I promise his name and the fact that he wasn’t dead at the time was the only parts I hid.” 

He sighs and pulls away. “Well, I guess one of your lies came true today though. Darlin’, I’m so sorry.” 

Over the next few hours, you and he discuss what will happen now. He comes to the decision he won’t leave the gang, he can’t. He knows now that there’s no saving Dutch, but maybe he can help the others get out. You, on the other hand, would be handed a death sentence if you stepped foot into the camp. He asks what you want to do and you admit that you just want to live somewhere alone with him and have a quiet life, begin a family with him. He blushes but agrees that’s what he wants to. 

The next day, he takes you to a small cottage he’s seen on the borders of New Hanover and Ambarino, not far from the river. It’s secluded and well hidden in the trees. You have plenty of money to set your things in order, so you’ll be well off here. It’s also far enough from the gang that they won’t find you but it’s not far enough for him to not come visit you. 

Over the next couple of weeks, he visits every couple of days. You manage to take care of yourself quite well having learned through him how to hunt and skin animals. You bought some materials and seeds from the store in Valentine and are determined to start a garden, although you’ve never taken care of plants before. It’s a lot harder than you thought, but you manage to get a few plants sprouting. 

When Arthur visits, he tells you of the things he and the gang has done, how much crazier Dutch gets. Arthur himself is growing angry and mistrustful of him, but he’s determined to help the others escape with their lives. Sometimes you read about the gang’s activities in the paper in Valentine, like Bacchus Bridge being blown up, Colm O’Driscoll’s hanging in Saint Denis followed by a deadly shootout, tensions growing between the Wapiti and the army. 

One night Arthur shows up at your little cabin late into the night. He’s exhausted and there’s blood on his hands. “I’m done, darlin’,” he says when you open the door. “I ain’t ever goin’ back there. I’ve wasted my life livin’ the preachings of a crazy man.”

“What happened?” 

Arthur explains how the son of the Wapiti chief went and did a raid on Cornwall’s oilfield in order to retaliate for them forcing his people off their land. You know Arthur has had many dealings with them, trying to help them in their struggles against the army. Arthur then describes how, after getting bonds from the foreman’s office, he got knocked down by a burst pipe. An officer pinned him to the floor and nearly overpowered him. Dutch had seen it all and even had the chance to kill the man, but Arthur watched him walk away, sealing his fate.  

“If Eagle Flies hadn’t come, I’d be dead. Then that asshole Colonel Favors shot him. He’s dead now, and all because Dutch didn’t care if I died. When I accused him of such, he lied in front of everyone and said he’d done no such thing. I’m done, darlin’. I’m done fightin’ his battles for him just so he can leave me to die. I wanna start a new life with you properly now.” 

“Arthur,” you say, cupping his cheek. “That’s all I ever wanted.”