#Arthur's like the mayor's son

[takingasterix]

@lil-gremlin-things requested a Merlin Stardew Valley AU, and I am happy to supply! :) Thanks so much for the super fun request!

[arthursfuckinghat]

The fate of Evelyn Miller is so fucking fascinating, I had no idea.

Although Dutch admired him like a saint, his books and writings were heavily criticized by others in the same field as him. Miller wrote very poetic and socially progressive novels (a big deal considering the time period), his empathy and understanding of the world around him was the main reason for the criticism.

He was painted as a fraud and a fool who had ideas far above his station, his books also sparked a lot of controversy in the gang. When Dutch tried sharing 'wisdom' from one of the books, Lenny was especially critical of Miller's philosophies. Lenny also said that Miller was a fraud, a man who came from a privileged life and was pretending to live like a lower class citizen. Dutch took it personally, but carried on reading, he does this in a few interactions with explaining or reading out some of Miller's writing to gang members.

But the interesting part is despite Dutch preaching Miller's philosophies and reading his books to the last letter, he proved to not fully understand the meaning behind the writings after all.

It was shown that Miller was an advocate for nature, the Wapiti, and native Americans in general. He tried to help them with the situation regarding the peace treaty and convinced Arthur to help them too. Miller's allyship with the Wapiti was met with a lot of scrutinization, he was insulted by guests at the mayor's party for sympathising with minorities, but Miller still aided them when they needed it.

And as we know, this is quite the opposite to what Dutch did. Dutch took advantage of the Wapiti and helped fuel the war between them and the army for his own gain. He preached his idea of a fair and free world, but killed innocents and indoctrinated the vulnerable. He preached second chances, but shot without hesitation. He preached loyalty, but left his sons to die.

I could go on, but ultimately, Miller was also critical of himself. He pushed himself hard to write and improve, so much so that he died of starvation whilst trying to finish his last book. His last request was wanting his body to be burned so he could soar in the air with the eagles.

Dutch loving and preaching Miller till his dying day only further cemented the hypocrisy that ran deep in Dutch as a person. He fed on the thrill that came from leading people to a 'better world' - and it killed them all.

[moeitsu]

The Tie Which Linked My Soul To Thee

Ch 22 - Had But Our Loving Prospered Well

Summary: As Dutch readies the gang for their next big score, Arthur is sent to Saint Denis to settle unfinished business, only to face a ghost from his past. Meanwhile, Kate's come down with an illness, but a vivid dream sparks a newfound resolve to secure her and Arthur's future—no matter the cost.

Ao3  Wattpad Masterlist - All Chapters Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

AN: About 10k words. I really enjoyed how this one turned out. I think it does a good job at setting up what's coming next while also keeping you on your toes. Guess you'll have to read and see ;)

And Happy Thanksgiving to all those who celebrate! I am so thankful for all my readers <3

Tag List: @photo1030 @ariacherie @thatweirdcatlady @ultraporcelainpig @marygillisapologist @eternalsams @lunawolfclaw  @yallgotkik

**please let me know if you would like to be tagged in future chapters!

Story Tags: Canon Divergence, Mutual Pining, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Eventual Smut, Eventual Romance, Emotional Sex, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Touch-Starved, Sexual Tension, Friends to Lovers, Trauma, Canon-Typical Violence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Blood and Violence, Survivor Guilt, Caretaking, Period-Typical Racism, Anxiety, Emotional Constipation, Self-Doubt, Men Crying, Sweet/Hot, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff

Been a while since I put pen to paper. Feels like there ain’t enough time in the day anymore, though Lord knows I’ve been wasting plenty of it trying to keep my head above water. We’ve moved again. Ran from the law again. Stirred up more trouble. Same damn story, just a different setting. This time it’s Saint Denis—a place I heard was one of the seven wonders of the world. Well, if this is what they call a wonder, I reckon I’d be just fine never seeing the other six. It’s crowded, loud, and full of people who’d stab you in the back soon as they look at you. One of those people bein’ Angelo Bronte. Slimy, conniving bastard who’s got this whole city dancing to his tune.

He’s the same one who took Jack from us, but somehow, he’s also got us rubbing elbows with the mayor at some swanky garden party. Don’t ask me how that makes sense. Dutch’s idea, of course. Or maybe Hosea’s, hell if I know anymore. What I do know is he insisted Kate come along, dressed us all up like damn peacocks. I felt ridiculous, but then I looked at her. My Kate. She took my breath clean away. Lord help me, there’s nothing in this life I wouldn’t do for that woman.

The party itself? A circus. Drunks, phonies, and clowns as far as the eye could see. But I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have some fun. Hell, I think Kate might’ve even enjoyed herself. It’s a memory I’ll carry with me, no matter how all this shakes out.

Still, this place ain’t sittin’ right with me. Dutch and Hosea keep goin’ on about opportunities, but I don’t see much besides folks with too much money and too little care for anything else. I better keep my head down while I can.

I introduced myself to a couple of Indians, father and son. The son is so angry and the father is; I don’t know exactly what. Something both impressive and frightening. And kind too. He’s a great man being defeated by powerful, awful forces. I don’t know why, but I agreed to help them. Seems they, like us, have a problem with that ape Leviticus Cornwall. 

And then there's Dutch, always in the middle of it all. He’s pushin’ Kate into things I’m not sure she should be a part of. Keeps talkin’ about loyalty, like I ain’t proven mine a thousand times over. Says Kate could help with this new scheme coming up—some high-stakes poker game on a damn yacht in the harbor. Wants to dress her up like some famous singer to get us in. The idea makes my skin crawl. She’s too good for this kind of life, and Dutch knows it.

I’ve been trying to keep her close, tellin’ her to stick to camp, help with the girls. But she ain’t the type to sit still. She’s got this fire in her, this restless spirit that makes her want to be out there with me, shoulderin’ the same burdens. And I love her for it, but it scares the hell outta me too. This gang is a powder keg, and when it blows, she’s gonna get caught in the blast.

John said something the other day that stuck with me—never thought I’d be takin’ advice from him, yet here we are. He told me I gotta start thinking about what happens after all this. If there’s even gonna be an "after." I don’t know what that looks like, but I know Kate deserves better than this life. Problem is, I ain’t sure I can give it to her. Not yet. Not while there’s still so much to fix, so much to make right.

I guess we’ll see what the day brings. 

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Arthur closed his journal with a soft thunk, the familiar leather creaking as he slid it back into his satchel. Stretching, he winced as his muscles protested—stiff from too many sleepless nights and too many hours in the saddle. Dawn was just beginning to break, but Arthur had been awake long before the first hints of sunlight painted the horizon. Not that it mattered much. These days, the weeks were a blur, the days bleeding into each other with each task, each job, and every damn mission Dutch insisted on. No end in sight, just more running, more scheming.

He sat on an old, weather-worn chair perched at the front of Shady Belle, the crumbling manor they called home. Its once-grand façade was faded and cracked, much like the gang itself—held together by little more than stubbornness and dwindling hope. The morning fog clung low to the ground, curling around the gnarled tree roots and the broken fence posts, giving the place an eerie stillness.

It was mid-September now—Arthur only remembered because Sean’s birthday had passed a few days back. Some of the gang had stayed up late, passing a bottle around the campfire, trading stories about the fiery Irishman. Arthur had stayed longer than most, his heart heavy with memories of laughter now silenced by a bullet.

The chill of fall was creeping in, carried by the night and lingering in the shadows, though the sun would soon burn it away. Arthur inhaled deeply, the crisp air filling his lungs, chasing away the stale dampness of the manor. For a fleeting moment, it felt good—clean. He let himself savor it, knowing the day ahead would likely choke him with its demands.

Dutch had a plan, as always. This time, a high-stakes card game aboard a river boat in the Saint Denis harbor. Every detail had to be perfect. No mistakes. No run-ins with the law. Not this time. That meant a shopping trip to the city with Trelawny, of all people, to gather supplies and scout the area. Dutch wanted every angle covered, every loose end tied tight.

And then there was Kate. Dutch had insisted she play a role in the job, her part pivotal to getting them through the door. Her cover? A famous Italian singer, the kind who’d catch the eye of the city's most elite. Arthur had protested—loudly. But Dutch was unyielding, Hosea backing him up with reassurances that it’d be fine, just like the mayor’s party. Arthur didn’t care much for that; polished shoes, fake smiles, and too many lies—but Kate had taken it all in stride, and she was confident she could do it again.

Arthur wasn’t so sure. He didn’t like the idea of her standing in the middle of it all, surrounded by strangers who wouldn’t think twice about exploiting her if things went wrong. But she was stubborn, determined to help the gang any way she could. Arthur had no choice but to pray he could change her mind in the next two days. If he couldn’t, he’d be right there beside her. No way in hell would he let her face it alone.

Lately, though, his worries stretched far beyond jobs and plans. He’d noticed the signs—Kate sleeping more, eating less, missing chores because of her headaches. The girls had told him as much, and Arthur knew the cause. Shady Belle was no place for someone like her. Sure, it had walls and a roof, but they were cracked and rotting, letting the rain and wind slip through. Mold crept up the corners, and the damp chill seeped into your bones at night. Arthur did what he could—pulling her close when the nights grew too cold, letting his body heat shield her from the worst of it. But it wasn’t enough. It ate at him, watching her put on a brave face, pretending she wasn’t struggling just to keep his worry at bay.

But he always worried. Now, with Dutch’s plan looming and Kate’s involvement hanging in the balance, the concern gnawed at him, heavy and relentless, like a stone pressing against his chest. He sighed, shifting his weight in the creaky old chair, debating whether to head back inside and kiss his woman goodbye before the day’s chaos swept him away.

Before he could move, the door creaked open, and Mary-Beth stepped out onto the porch. The young woman was wrapped in a heavy wool coat, her night chemise peeking out from underneath, and she held a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and a white envelope pinched between her fingers. Her other hand clutched her coat tightly against the morning chill.

“Mornin’, Arthur,” she greeted softly, her voice warm and familiar. “Figured I might find you out here.”

Arthur smiled, tipping his head in acknowledgment. “A fine mornin’ it is, Miss Mary-Beth.”

She handed him the coffee, and he accepted it with a grateful nod. The warmth seeped through his fingers, chasing away the lingering chill. If there was one thing about running all these damn jobs, it was the way the girls showed their appreciation in small but meaningful ways. It reminded Arthur why he kept going—why he fought so hard. Not just for himself, but for them, too.

Mary-Beth lingered as Arthur took a tentative sip of the bitter black coffee. Then, almost hesitantly, she extended the envelope toward him. “Letter came for you,” she said, her tone light but with a hint of something else—curiosity, maybe. “I think it’s from that woman.” The last two words carried a subtle edge.

Arthur chortled, raising an eyebrow as he took the envelope. “That woman, huh? You mean Mary Gillis?” He turned the letter over in his hands, the elegant script on the front unmistakable.

Mary-Beth pursed her lips. “Gillis? Thought you said she was married to some Linton fellow?”

Arthur sighed, suddenly feeling like he’d been cornered. “She um— well she was. Barry Linton. But he passed not too long ago.” His fingers found the edge of the envelope, ripping it open as he spoke.

Mary-Beth folded her arms, her gaze sharpening with interest. “Then tell me, Mr. Morgan, what’s this widow doing still writin’ to you?”

He huffed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, darlin’. That’s what I’m fixin’ to find out.” He unfolded the letter, but he could feel her eyes lingering.

“You best get along before Miss Grimshaw catches wind you’re up,” he added pointedly, trying to nudge her away without sounding outright rude.

Mary-Beth narrowed her eyes at him, clearly unimpressed by his attempt to dismiss her, but after a moment, she relented, turning back toward the door. “Alright, fine. But I’ll be keepin’ my eye on you. Don’t do anything stupid.”

He chuckled under his breath as she disappeared into the manor, shaking his head at her audacity. Then, finally, he let his gaze fall to the letter in his hand, the words waiting for him like the clouds on the horizon:

My dear Arthur,

I hope this letter finds you well. I wanted to thank you for your help with Jamie. He and Daddy are still arguing, but I understand that Jamie is thinking of going back to college. Whatever happens, I believe you saved his life, and we are all truly grateful.

Oh, Arthur. I have made such a mess of my life, time and again. Why can I not change and be the woman I want to be? Why couldn’t you change and be a man and put down all those fantasies that cloud your judgment? Life is very confusing, and I see now that I am not very good at it.

I am afraid we have got ourselves in another mess. It’s not my fault, but I need your help. I’m staying at the Hotel Grand in Saint Denis. Oh, Arthur. I know it is wrong of me to ask you, but I have nobody else, and for what we had together, I beg of you, even though I am ashamed to do so.

Yours,Mary

Arthur sighed heavily, folding the letter with a deliberate care that belied the storm brewing inside him. He slid it into his satchel, the weight of it feeling heavier than any of the supplies or ammunition he carried. His jaw tightened as his gaze drifted out over the misty swamps, the sluggish waters reflecting a pale, muted sunrise. Mary Gillis. Always finding a way to haunt him, always pulling at the loose threads of a life he’d tried to leave behind.

The first time she’d called for his help, he’d nearly ignored her altogether. He’d wrestled with the question, torn between letting old flames die and doing what he thought might be the decent thing. It was Kate who’d convinced him in the end, her soft-spoken wisdom guiding him to answer the plea. "Helping others isn’t a weakness," she’d said, resting her hand on his, heart full of understanding. And so he’d gone. He’d helped Mary with her brother, with her troubles, and with it, he thought he’d finally put the past to rest.

But that was months ago. Months filled with battles, with losses, with a love that had rooted itself firmly in his chest and refused to let go. His heart belonged to Kate now, the woman who lay sleeping just upstairs, wrapped in the meager warmth of their shared cot. Whatever dreams Mary might still cling to, whatever fantasy she still entertained of what they once were, Arthur knew better. She’d signed the letter “yours,” but the truth was she had never truly been his.

They’d been just a couple of lovesick kids, foolish and reckless, trying to carve out a life in a world that seemed determined to keep them apart. Her father had despised him, calling him poor, unworthy, a scoundrel who’d ruin her. Maybe the old bastard had been right, in his own way. Mary, for her part, had always wanted him to change—begged him to leave his ways behind, to live a cleaner, safer life that had no place for a man like him.

He’d tried, God knows he’d tried, but in the end, it wasn’t enough. Her rejection of his proposal had shattered whatever hope they’d built together, and they’d gone their separate ways, two hearts too stubborn to meet in the middle. At the time, Arthur had been furious, heartbroken. But with the years came clarity. She’d done the right thing by walking away, as much as it had gutted him. He’d have ruined her, and she’d have resented him for it.

Now, though, her reaching out again felt like opening an old wound that had barely scarred over. She must’ve been desperate to dredge up the past and call on him once more. Still, Arthur had made her a promise all those years ago—a promise to be there if she ever truly needed him. And damn it all, he’d meant it. But that didn’t make him regret those words any less now.

He sighed again, the sound heavy in the stillness, and turned back toward the house. His boots creaked softly on the steps as he ascended to the bedroom he shared with Kate. The air inside was quieter than the swamp outside, a hushed calm broken only by the occasional murmur of the gang stirring below.

Kate lay curled beneath their blanket, her hair splayed across the pillow in a tangled mess that caught the pale morning light. The sight of her tugged at something deep inside him—a mix of love and guilt that settled in his chest. She looked so peaceful, her face relaxed in sleep, a stark contrast to the restless energy she carried during the waking hours.

Arthur knelt beside the bed, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. He leaned in close, pressing a soft kiss to her temple. Her skin felt warm against his lips. She stirred slightly, mumbling something incoherent before settling again.

“Be back soon,” he whispered, his voice low and smooth.

For a moment, he lingered there, his hand resting on her shoulder as though drawing strength from the simple touch. Then, with a reluctant sigh, he straightened and left the room, closing the door softly behind him. Whatever the day held, he’d face it. But as he made his way back down to the waiting world, he knew his thoughts would stay rooted here, with her. 

Always with her.

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Kate was lost in the throes of a feverish dream, her mind teetering on the edge of consciousness. Somewhere in the haze, she felt Arthur's lips brush against her temple—a fleeting touch that tethered her briefly to the safety of Shady Belle. But like water slipping through her fingers, she drifted away again, into a world both foreign and familiar.

She was standing in the bayou, its dark, twisting mangrove trees reaching like skeletal fingers toward a starless sky. Their roots dive far below the depths, peeking out in gnarled braids. There was no moon, yet the scene was bathed in an eerie glow, as if the shadows themselves emitted a pale, unnatural light. The air was thick and heavy, like the fever clinging to her skin, and she felt the weight of unseen eyes watching from just beyond the edges of her vision. Every time she turned, they vanished, retreating deeper into their dark spaces.

The cold water lapped at her thighs, the chill seeping through her soaked nightdress as it billowed around her legs like dissolving smoke. Shady Belle was nowhere to be seen, and she felt untethered, as though the world itself had abandoned her. She wanted to shout, to call Arthur’s name. But her mouth and tongue betrayed her, remaining silent in the oppressive quiet. Her mind grappled for meaning, but the logic of dreams offered no answers, only the inexorable thrill of what came next.

In a blink, the scene shifted, and she stood before an ancient, tortured looking willow tree. Its massive branches drooping low, their weight seeming to bow toward the water as if in devotion—or coercion. Devoid of color and leaves, it looked barren yet beckoning. The tree loomed impossibly large, its roots poking up through the earth as if it was trying to pry itself from the ground. They spread wide and deep, cradling something small and swaddled in a yellow fabric.

Kate’s body moved without her permission, her feet splashed forward sinking into the muck with every step, her hand outstretched toward the bundle. It pulsed faintly, as though alive, the fabric inexplicably dry and pristine despite the muddy water lapping at its edges. She knelt, her fingers trembling as they brushed the delicate cloth.

The earth beneath her began to quiver, a slow, rhythmic tremor that she realized was a heartbeat. It echoed in her chest, though strangely out of sync with her own, as if it belonged to something other. The sound grew louder, resonating in her bones, drowning out the hum of the bayou. It was steady and strong unlike her own, which began to falter under the pressure of uncertainty. 

This heartbeat was mighty.

With a deep breath, she peeled back the fabric. Expecting some fragile, living thing, she froze when all that lay within was a seed. Small, unassuming, nestled within the soft blanket—a peach pit.

A strange disquiet settled over her. What’s this doing here? she wondered, turning it over in her hand. She couldn’t explain why, but her mind immediately thought of Arthur. Before she could rise, a flash of light caught her eye. Looking up, her breath hitched.

Sunken into the tree’s ancient trunk was a mirror, its frame gnarled and alive, twisting like the roots that encased it. But the reflection that met her gaze wasn’t her own—or at least, not as she knew herself.

The woman in the mirror was her, but different. Healthier, fuller. Her hair was smooth and pinned in an elegant style, and she wore a fine dress—proper and clean, with no trace of the rough life Kate knew so well. But her expression was strained, her face marked by some deep, unspoken sorrow.

In her arms, the reflection cradled the same yellow bundle Kate had just unwrapped. The fabric was clean and vibrant, glowing softly as though untouched by the bayou's darkness. Kate looked on, and the image began to fade, its yellow hue leaching into dullness before her eyes.

"No," she whispered, a surge of desperation clawing at her chest. The mirror seemed to flicker, the image trembling as if on the verge of breaking apart. She dropped the seed into the water, her hands reaching out toward the reflection, pleading with it. Tears blurred her vision as her knees sank into the mud.

She clawed at the bark of the tree, her nails scraping against the wood as the mirror began to dissolve into the surrounding fog. The woman in the reflection lingered for just a moment longer, her pained eyes softened, and she smiled at Kate, before vanishing entirely.

As the last wisp of light faded, Kate’s gaze dropped. There, floating in the water before her, was the peach pit. It was glowing now, faintly golden, radiating outward as it nestled into her lap. Reaching down with cupped hands she felt its warmth, pulsing with the steady beat of her heart. Harmonizing, as if they were one.

A soft whisper reached her ears, though no voice could be seen or placed. The words were indistinct, like a lullaby carried on a distant breeze. Yet they filled her with an overwhelming peace, soothing the ache that had gripped her chest. Kate clung to the warmth, holding the seed close to her chest. 

The water began to rise, enveloping her body. But she held onto the tiny pit, clinging to the hope it offered her. Shielding it from the darkness as it swallowed them both. 

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The rhythmic clatter of Belle’s hooves against the cobblestone echoed through the bustling streets of Saint Denis, a steady cadence that drowned out the city’s chaos. The sharp clang of the trolley on its tracks, the overlapping shouts of merchants and passersby, even the piercing cry of a seagull overhead—all of it faded into the background. Arthur’s mind, however, was far from quiet. His thoughts churned, replaying the morning’s work, scanning for anything they might have missed. Anything that could tip their carefully planned mission into disaster.

Arthur and Trelawney had spent the better part of the day digging into every detail of the high-stakes card tournament scheduled aboard the Grand Korrigan the following evening. Trelawney and Strauss were confident they could fix the game in Arthur’s favor, but there was still much to learn. Who were the players? What were the stakes? And how could they infiltrate the riverboat without raising suspicion?

Trelawney, ever the charmer, had already secured the proper attire and spent hours mingling in the city’s seedier poker dens, listening to whispers and picking up useful scraps of information. Meanwhile, Arthur had taken to scouting the boat itself. He’d memorized its layout, noted its docking schedule, and kept a sharp eye on the captain and crew as they moved about their business. Every detail mattered, and Arthur was determined not to leave any stone unturned.

Lost in thought, Arthur rode back toward the heart of town to meet Trelawney at their arranged rendezvous. The weight of the mission sat heavy on his shoulders, his focus narrowing in on the steps ahead. So much so, he almost didn’t hear the voice calling out to him.

“Arthur!”

The shout was sudden, cutting through the din. Feminine, familiar.

He pulled Belle to a halt, glancing around until his eyes landed on a balcony just above street level. There she was—Mary Gillis, leaning eagerly against the railing, her face lit with a mixture of relief and excitement.

“Oh, Arthur, you came!” she called, waving as though the years between them had never passed.

Arthur stiffened in the saddle, his hand tightening slightly on Belle’s reins. He’d forgotten about her letter, about her request for help. Hell, he’d barely had time to think it over, let alone discuss it with Kate. The mission had consumed his every waking moment, and he’d figured he’d have a few days to sort it out—if he even decided to go at all. But now, fate had a way of forcing his hand.

He sighed deeply, the sound barely audible over the city’s noise. “Yeah, I, uh—I came,” he called back, the words tasting like regret the moment they left his mouth.

The smile on Mary’s face faltered slightly as she saw the frustration etched into Arthur’s expression. Her enthusiasm met the weight of his weariness, a stark contrast to the nostalgic hope that had brought her to this moment. She leaned on the hotel railing, her eyes fixed on him as though they could will away the years and pain between them.

"Wait right there, I’m coming straight down!" she called, disappearing into the building before Arthur could even open his mouth to protest.

He dismounted Belle with a heavy sigh, hitching her to the post outside. The doors of the Hotel Grand swung open moments later, and Mary rushed out, her steps hurried, her face alight with nervous energy.

"Arthur," she said again, softer this time, her tone steeped in wistfulness.

Arthur shifted uncomfortably, his jaw tightening. "What is it you need this time, Mary?" His voice was steady but edged, cutting straight to the point. He didn’t want to linger, didn’t want to open doors he’d shut long ago.

Her expression faltered. "I can’t believe you came," she said, ignoring his question. Her voice carried a strange mix of gratitude and regret. "After everything…"

Arthur’s patience was thinning. He looked away, his gaze following a passing wagon down the street. "Sure, seems whenever you call, I come," he muttered, his tone clipped. "Now just tell me what’s goin’ on. I don’t have all day."

Mary took a hesitant step closer, clasping her hands in front of her. "It’s my daddy," she began.

Arthur let out a sharp, humorless laugh, shaking his head. "Your father? Christ, Mary, I must be an even bigger fool than I thought."

"Please, Arthur," she pleaded, her voice trembling. "I know my daddy was always hard on you, but he was just trying to protect me. Can’t you see that? He wanted better for me than—"

"Better than me," Arthur interrupted, his tone sharp, eyes narrowing. "That’s what you’re sayin’, ain’t it? Your father was never kind to me. He thought I was trash. Made damn sure I knew it, too."

Mary flinched but pressed on. "Your choices—Arthur, they—"

"What choice did I have!" he barked, rising with an anger that had been simmering for years. "You knew who I was, what my life was. I never left you, Mary. You walked away."

Her eyes welled with unshed tears, but Arthur didn’t let up, the wounds of their past bleeding fresh. "You think I don’t know why? You made the right call, I’ll give you that. But you don’t get to come back now and act like I’m your knight in shinin’ armor. I’m not. And I can’t be."

"Arthur, please," she begged. "You’re still the best man I’ve ever known. I wouldn’t be here asking you if I didn’t believe that."

He shook his head, his frustration boiling over. "You don’t know a damn thing about me anymore. You’re livin’ in some fantasy, Mary. Always have been. This pure life of yours? Your daddy’s still drinkin’ and whorin’ and gamblin’ away your money. Jamie’s nearly run off with some cult, and here you are, beggin’ me to fix it all."

Her lips quivered as she reached for him, but he stepped back, keeping the distance between them. "I’m sorry," she said quietly. "I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just—I didn’t know who else to turn to."

Arthur sighed, his anger giving way to something softer, but no less resolute. He stared at her for a long moment, his voice low but firm when he finally spoke, feeling defeated. "This is the last time we meet like this Mary. I’m done doin’ your family favors."

Her eyes widened as she grasped the weight of his words. "Oh, Arthur…"

"I’ve got my own life to worry about now," he said, gentler but unwavering. "My own family. A woman who’s stood by me, who I’ve got a future with. That’s where I’m puttin’ my focus. Not on what might’ve been."

Mary’s breath hitched, and she turned away. "It wasn’t that I didn’t love you, Arthur," she whispered, thick with emotion. “You know that.” 

"Don’t," Arthur said quickly, voice tightening. "Don’t bring that up now. It’s done. We’re done."

She turned back to him, her expression desperate, but he didn’t waver. "Think of what we had," she pleaded, her voice breaking. "Of what could’ve been."

Arthur shook his head, his voice firm even as his heart throbbed. "I’ve spent enough time thinkin’ about that, Mary. Now I’m thinkin’ about what I’ve got. And I’m not gonna throw it away for somethin’ that’s long gone."

Mary lowered her gaze, her fingers twisting together nervously. For a moment, silence fell between them, save for the distant clatter of wagon wheels and the murmur of city life around them. Arthur could see it—the shadow of the young woman she’d been, the glimmer of the love they once shared. That flicker hit him like a punch to the gut, stirring memories he’d buried deep.

He sighed, running a hand over his jaw, trying to shake the ache in his chest. Damn it all to hell, Arthur thought. Why was it always her?

Finally, he let out a long breath and stepped forward, resting a hand on her shoulder. She flinched slightly at his touch, then turned to meet his gaze, her eyes hopeful and fragile all at once.

"Fine," Arthur muttered, his tone gruff and tinged with resignation. "But this is the last time, Mary. You hear me? The last damn time."

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a fleeting moment, her face lit up, though the weight of her troubles quickly returned. "Thank you, Arthur," she whispered.

He dropped his hand and crossed his arms, narrowing his eyes at her. "Don’t thank me yet. Just tell me what kinda trouble your daddy’s dragged himself into this time."

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

Stealing back the Gillis family brooch had proven to be an unseemly task, though far easier than Arthur had expected. The brooch had found its way into the hands of a pompous collector named Mr. Hugo Abernathy, a well-known figure in Saint Denis. Abernathy had a reputation for exploiting desperate gamblers, trading their losses for heirlooms and sentimental trinkets to add to his collection of gaudy treasures. Arthur didn’t know whether the man fancied himself a cultured gentleman or just another leech, but it didn’t matter. He’d made the mistake of crossing paths with Arthur Morgan. As satisfying as it might’ve been to rob the man blind, this wasn’t about profit—it was about keeping his word to Mary, no matter how reluctant he’d been to give it.

By the time Arthur handed over the brooch, the sun was dipping low, casting long shadows across the bustling streets of Saint Denis. He walked Mary back to her hotel, his boots echoing dully against the cobblestone as he turned his thoughts toward camp. Toward Kate.

As if sensing his distraction, Mary broke the silence. “So,” she said lightly, “tell me about this woman who’s tamed your heart.”

Arthur huffed a quiet chuckle. “She’s far from taming it. Hell, I can’t even tame her sometimes.”

Mary laughed softly, but there was something wistful in her tone. “She sounds... spirited.”

“She is,” Arthur said, a rare softness creeping into his voice. “She’s somethin’ else, Mary. She don’t back down from nothing. She’s kind, too, in her own way. Got a way of makin’ me believe I might just be better than I’ve been.”

Mary hesitated, a flicker of something unspoken crossing her face. “And... she doesn’t mind what you do? The outlaw life, I mean. Doesn’t it... bother her? I can’t imagine it’s the life any woman dreams of.”

Arthur’s steps slowed, and his jaw tightened as the words sank in. He stopped, turning to face her. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Mary’s eyes widened, realizing her misstep, but she pressed on, perhaps emboldened by old familiarity. “I just mean... I tried to love you, Arthur. I really did. But that life you lead—it consumes everything. I just don’t see how anyone can truly be happy with it. Or with you.”

Arthur’s lips parted slightly, as though the words had struck him like a blow. They pained him deeply, he already struggled with feeling unworthy of Kate’s affections. But it stung especially after what he had just done to save Mary’s family, again. A slow anger began to simmer in his chest. “Kate don’t see it that way,” he said firmly. “She sees me. For who I am. Not for what I’ve done or where I come from.”

Mary faltered, searching for the right response, but her silence said enough.

“That’s the difference, Mary,” Arthur continued, his tone sharpening. “You were always tryin’ to fix me, tryin’ to make me somethin’ I’m not. Kate... she doesn't ask for that. She just—” He stopped himself, shaking his head. “She loves me as I am.”

Mary looked away, a flush creeping into her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Arthur. I just... I suppose I wanted to understand what she sees in you. What I couldn’t see.”

Arthur let out a breath, long and heavy. “Maybe that’s just it,” he said quietly. “We were never meant to see eye to eye. You were always lookin’ for somethin’ I couldn’t give, and I was too stubborn to realize it.”

They stood in silence for a moment, the distance between them suddenly feeling insurmountable.

“Thank you,” Mary said finally, her voice soft and resolute. “For everything.”

Arthur nodded, his expression unreadable. “Take care, Mary.” Without another word, he turned and walked away, the sound of his boots fading into the din of the city.

As Arthur mounted Belle and rode back toward camp, a strange weight lifted from his shoulders. It was as though he’d finally closed a door he hadn’t realized had been open for far too long, letting the past linger like a ghost. Mary had been a symbol of what had always been out of reach—a life of quiet respectability, a pure life. A fantasy where he could be the man she thought he should be. But with every step Belle took, the clarity of his feelings grew. 

That life had never been meant for him. Mary had never been meant for him.

Mary had wanted a version of him that didn’t exist, a man who could walk away from the outlaw life and become something proper in the eyes of society. She’d seen his flaws as barriers, challenges to be smoothed over or removed entirely. That his past was something he could simply erase from his identity. She loved the idea of him, not the man himself. 

Kate, on the other hand, had never tried to change him. She had seen him at his worst—bloodied and bruised, hardened by the choices he’d made—and still, she’d chosen to love him. All of him. The good, the bad, and the downright ugly.

Kate didn’t just stand by his side; she rooted herself there in devotion. She didn’t demand perfection or moral absolution. Instead, she accepted the man he was and encouraged the man he was trying to become. She saw the good in him, even when he couldn’t see it himself. Kate understood that his scars, both visible and hidden, were part of what made him who he was. Where Mary had always sought to mend or reshape him, Kate simply held space for him to be, flaws and all. 

As the city lights of Saint Denis faded behind him, Arthur let out a deep breath, one he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. The ache of old memories had dulled, replaced by something warmer, steadier. He thought of Kate’s laugh, the way her eyes sparkled with mischief when she teased him, the strength in her voice when she pushed him to keep fighting for what mattered. She didn’t coddle him or let him wallow in self-pity. She challenged him, called him out, set him straight, and still, she stayed.

The realization struck him like a punch to the gut: Kate was his future. Not some imagined version of himself or a life he could never truly live. Kate was real, and she was waiting for him back at camp.

Arthur urged Belle into a faster trot, eager to leave Saint Denis behind. The past had its place, sure, but it wasn’t where he belonged. Not anymore. For the first time in a long while, Arthur felt certain of his path. His future lay ahead with Kate—and he could hardly wait to seize it.

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The camp was alive with the warm hum of camaraderie as Kate sat cross-legged at the poker table, her cheeks flushed from laughter. The early evening sun dipped low on the horizon, casting a golden hue over Shady Belle as the group settled into their game. Hosea, ever the charming rogue, shuffled the deck with a flair, his mischievous grin growing as he eyed Kate's rapidly increasing pile of poker chips. 

Charles leaned back in his chair, sipping from a tin cup while Javier and Lenny exchanged jabs, their banter bringing easy laughter to the group.

“Now, Miss Kate,” Hosea drawled, dealing the cards with the finesse of a seasoned cheat, “you’d best not let that pretty smile fool us into thinking you don’t know what you’re doing. Although,” he added, nodding toward her hoard of chips, “I suspect the smile ain’t needed.”

Kate smirked, tossing a couple of chips into the pot. “Oh, trust me, Hosea. I don’t need my pretty smile to clean you out.”

A ripple of laughter swept over the table as Lenny slapped it. “She’s got you there, old man! She’s ruthless.”

“I’ll show you ‘old man,’” Hosea grumbled, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

Charles leaned in, his tone faux-serious. “Or maybe she’s just cheating.”

Kate gasped, placing a hand to her chest in mock offense. “The slander! Lies on my good name!”

“Good practice for tomorrow,” Javier said with a sly grin. “Maybe we should put her at the table instead of Arthur.”

The group erupted in laughter as the game continued, the teasing punctuated by moments of concentration. Kate reveled in the lightheartedness, the warmth of her companions easing the dull fatigue that had lingered all day. The strange dream she’d had still nagged at the edges of her thoughts, but the laughter and camaraderie helped soften its weight.

The sound of hooves approaching broke through the chatter, and all heads turned as Arthur dismounted Belle and strolled toward the group. Kate’s eyebrows lifted in surprise. 

“Arthur!” she greeted warmly, setting her cards down. “You’re back early. I thought you’d be out until dark.”

Arthur tipped his hat to the group, his gaze softening when it landed on her. With a small, fond smile, he bent to tilt back her hat and pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, completely unbothered by the amused stares from the others. 

“Figured I’d better get back,” he said, his voice low but full of concern. “How’re you feelin’? Grimshaw ain’t been ridin’ you too hard, has she?”

Kate waved him off, trying to mask her weariness with a smile. “It’s alright, Arthur. Just needed a little rest, that’s all.”

Arthur stepped behind her chair, folding his arms as he watched the game unfold. “You want me to deal you in, son?” Hosea asked with a knowing smirk.

Arthur shook his head. “I’ll pass. Looks like y’all’ve got enough trouble at the table already.”

Three hands later, Arthur couldn’t help but notice Kate placing a high bet despite her lame cards. He frowned, leaning forward. “Hold on. Are you whipsawin’ Hosea?” He whispered loudly. 

Kate froze, turning to glare at him with mock indignation. “Arthur Morgan, I cannot believe you right now.”

The men at the table groaned as Charles threw his cards down. “Told you she was cheating,” he said, laughing.

“How’s she even doing it?” Lenny asked, his curiosity piqued. “You can’t squeeze a player by yourself.”

Kate rose with a huff, tossing her cards on the table and dramatically pointing across at Javier. “Ay, pequeño diablo!” Javier threw his hands up in mock innocence. “I swear, it was her idea!”

Lenny leaned back, shaking his head with feigned annoyance. “Can’t believe you’d do Hosea dirty like that. Poor old man.”

Arthur burst into laughter as realization dawned. “You two teamed up on Hosea? Of all people?”

Hosea chuckled, putting a hand to his heart. “I’m touched, truly.”

Kate grinned, collecting her chips and dumping them in her satchel. “No hard feelings,” she said, pushing in her chair, and flicking her hat in a playful farewell.

“You’ve learned from the best,” Hosea replied with a laugh.

Kate looped her arm around Arthur as he wrapped a hand around her waist. “I think it’s time I turned in,” she said, her voice softening as the laughter behind her began to fade.

“Goodnight, Kate,” Charles said with a small nod, echoed by Lenny and Hosea.

Javier smirked, leaning back in his chair. “Sleep well, card shark. Don’t let Arthur keep you up too late.” He winked playfully, “we got a big day tomorrow.”

Arthur shot him a warning glance but chuckled, steering Kate toward the house. “They’re gonna have your name runnin’ through camp by morning,” he teased.

“Good,” Kate replied with a smirk. “Keeps things interesting.”

 ━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━

The climb up the creaking, weathered staircase to their bedroom was quiet, the kind of silence that wrapped around two people who didn’t need words to fill the space between them. Arthur walked just behind Kate, his gaze focussed on her every movement. 

Up close he noticed the faint pallor in her cheeks. She was good at hiding it, but he could tell she was still feeling unwell. He ran a hand over his jaw, searching for the right way to bring it up without discouraging her mood. Listening to her laughter and the childish banter with Hosea and the other guys struck a chord in his heart. He didn’t want anything to ruin her happiness. But this next job, coupled with her abating strength loomed over his consciousness. Arthur couldn’t let it go. 

As they reached the landing, Arthur cleared his throat, breaking the quiet. “Darlin’, I gotta talk to you about somethin’.” He was soft, cautious, but it was clear this wasn’t something he could brush aside.

Kate stopped just shy of opening the bedroom door, turning to face him with an arched brow. “That sounds ominous.”

Arthur gave her a crooked smile, his hat in his hands, but before he could continue, Kate pushed the door open—and gasped.

Hanging from a shelf inside the room was an elegant black and gold dress, the fabric catching the dim light like liquid fire. Beside it hung a sleek black suit and a matching golden ascot tie—Trelawney’s handiwork, no doubt. Arthur recognized the attire immediately, part of the plan for the riverboat job, and an uncomfortable weight settled in his chest. 

This wasn’t the first risky scheme they’d run, but something about involving Kate this time gnawed at him. The mayor's garden party had been a simple play to gather information. It had gone smoothly enough, but this felt different. The stakes were higher, the dangers more evident. Kate would be shoved in the spotlight. Open, and vulnerable. 

This wasn’t just another job with the gang. In the past, Arthur would dive into missions headfirst, guns blazing and ready to handle whatever chaos came his way. He’d learned to adapt, to put on a show when things went south, always prepared to claw his way out of trouble. But this time was different. This time, he had something to lose.

Kate wasn’t just another member of the gang. She was a light in the darkness, a reason to hope in a world that so often felt too heavy to bear.

Arthur's unease wasn’t just about her safety—it was about what her involvement represented. Every lie, every con, every dangerous move Dutch made, Arthur could swallow it. It was a part of the life he'd chosen. But dragging Kate into that world, risking her for the sake of their schemes, felt like a line he was dangerously close to crossing. One that gambled with her life. 

She deserved better than this, Arthur knew it was not the future he wanted for her. Yet here she was, caught up in it all because of him. Because Kate is too stubborn to let him take on the world alone. The thought of something going wrong made him feel sick. 

Kate stepped forward, running her fingers lightly over the dress, her expression equal parts awe and amusement. “Well, I’ll be damned. Trelawney certainly has an eye for style,” she murmured.

Arthur crossed his arms, leaning against the doorframe. “Yeah, an eye for flair and trouble. This don’t change how I feel about you being involved in it.”

Kate turned to him, her playful grin fading as she caught the concern etched into his face. “Arthur,” she began softly, already sensing where this was headed, “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure about that?” he pressed, stepping into the room and closing the door behind him. “You ain’t been feelin’ fine these past few days. You think I don’t notice how pale you’ve been lookin’, or how you’ve been tryin’ to hide it from me? I’m worried about you.”

“I told you, it’s nothing serious,” Kate said, though the edge in her voice betrayed her. 

“Darlin’, it’s serious to me.” Arthur stated. 

She wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Arthur or herself. Her thoughts drifted back to the dream she’d had that morning, the edges of it now hazy, like a half-remembered melody. She could recall flashes—shadows moving like whispers, an overwhelming warmth, and a sense of being drawn toward something she couldn’t quite remember. The dream’s meaning eluded her, slippery and incomprehensible, but it left behind a strange, fluttering feeling in her chest, like the stirrings of anticipation or fear.

Maybe it was just the lingering effects of the fever, or perhaps something more. Kate had noticed subtle changes in her body—a creeping fatigue that left her feeling weaker than usual, a loss of appetite, and persistent headaches that seemed to come and go. She brushed it off as nothing serious, likely just a common cold. After all, a little sickness had never slowed her down before.

She squared her shoulders, meeting his eyes. “I can pull my weight, Arthur. I always have.”

Arthur sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. “It ain’t about pullin’ your weight hon. You’ve got nothin’ to prove to me or to anyone else. I don’t want you pushin’ yourself too hard, not for something like this.” He gestured toward the dress, his voice softening. “If somethin’ goes wrong on that boat…”

Kate crossed the room and took his hand, squeezing it gently. “It won’t. Hosea’s got this all planned out to the last detail. I just have to sing a few songs while you win a couple rounds. I’ll be careful, I promise.”

The fact that Kate rehearsed things with Hosea brought him a sense of calm, but still his anxiety festered. Arthur held her gaze, his deep blue eyes searching hers for any hint of doubt.

 “I just hate that Dutch is puttin’ you in the lion's den while your vulnerable. You mean everything to me, Kate,” he said quietly. “I don’t want a future without you in it.”

Kate smiled faintly, her fingers brushing against his cheek as his warm hands enveloped her waist, squeezing them like he was testing if she were real or just his wild imagination.

“I’ll make you a deal, alright?” she resolved. “After this, I’m done. No more schemes, no more jobs. I’ll tell Dutch I’m out of commission.”

Arthur’s lips quirked into a soft smile, though the worry didn’t fully leave his face. She had made up her mind. “I’ll hold you to that,” he muttered, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

She rested her head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding her. “I know you will,” she whispered, closing her eyes.

As they stood in the quiet room, the soft glow of the lantern illuminated the dress and suit like relics from a story neither of them wanted to live, an unwelcome reminder of the weight of the world outside. Arthur tilted his head, his lips brushing against Kate’s hairline with a tenderness that belied the tension coiled in his chest. His hand traced slow, deliberate circles along the small of her back, grounding him as much as it soothed her. 

For a moment, Kate closed her eyes and leaned into him, the warmth of his body chasing away the lingering unease of her dream. Flashes of it teased the edges of her mind—a heartbeat, a pull she couldn’t quite explain. She opened her eyes and pulled back slightly, her hands resting on his chest where she could feel his heart, steady and strong. 

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” she teased, though the mischief in her eyes couldn’t entirely hide the vulnerability beneath. 

Arthur let out a soft snort, his lips quirking into a smirk that made her stomach flutter. “Darlin’, I think you got that backward.” He leaned down to nudge her nose with his, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down her spine. “I don't know what a man like me did to deserve a woman like you.”

Her laughter was quiet, intimate, the kind that warmed Arthur to his core and chased away the heaviness he carried. She moved her hands to his shoulders, her fingers tracing the lines of his shirt like she was memorizing him. For a moment, all the worry and fear melted away. 

“You know,” she murmured, her voice dropping to a playful whisper, “you could try on the suit—” She bit her lip, her lashes lowering as she glanced up at him, a soft blush coloring her cheeks.“And recreate that night we had in Saint Denis.” 

Arthur raised an eyebrow, giving her a skeptical look, though the corner of his mouth twitched with amusement. “What, you’re tellin’ me this doesn’t have it’s charm?” He spread his arms wide, gesturing to his body and clothes. His tone was laced with mock arrogance, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed his act.

Kate pressed herself against him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt. “Absolutely,” she murmured, her voice softer now, her lips hovering close to his. Her eyes flicked down to his mouth, her breath mingling with his. “I want you just as you are.”

Arthur’s grin widened, his hands sliding up her sides to cradle her face. His thumbs brushed her cheeks as he leaned closer, his voice a rough murmur. “Then what are we waitin’ for, to hell with the suit.”

Kate didn’t give him a chance to say more. Standing on her toes, she captured his mouth in a kiss, slow and deliberate. Arthur stilled for only a heartbeat, then surrendered, his hands tightening on her waist as he kissed her back with a fervor that made her knees weak. The world outside the room seemed to vanish, the faint sounds of camp life fading into nothing. All that mattered was the way her lips moved against his, the way her fingers tangled in his hair, the way her body molded perfectly to his, like they’d been made for this.

His tongue brushed along her bottom lip, and Kate moaned softly, her hands sliding to his collar to tug him closer. Their movements grew more eager, more desperate, as they peeled away layers of clothing, discarding them without breaking their connection. Arthur felt his need for her aching between his legs, and he couldn’t stop himself from guiding her backward to the cot. He followed her down, his weight pressing her into the mattress as he ground his hips against hers, drawing a breathless gasp from her lips.

Arthur broke the kiss to trail his lips down her neck, his stubble scraping lightly against her sensitive skin. Each kiss was unhurried and reverent, as though he were memorizing her taste. He reached the curve of her collarbone, then lower, his mouth finding a peaked nipple. He captured it between his lips, swirling his tongue around the sensitive nub, and Kate arched into him, a soft cry spilling from her mouth.

Her fingers tangled in his hair as his kisses continued downward, his warm breath ghosting over her stomach. She shivered beneath him, flashes of her dream surfacing again—the heartbeat, the magnetic pull, the sense of inevitability. When he kissed her navel, she swore she could feel it again, that same unshakable connection.

Arthur paused, his lips hovering over her skin as he looked up at her. “You alright, sweetheart?” he murmured, his voice thick with concern and raw desire. His hands caressed her thighs, grounding her in the moment.

Kate laughed breathlessly, her heart racing so fast she thought he might feel it. “I am now,” she whispered, her voice trembling with affection and longing.

Arthur chuckled, low and warm, the sound vibrating against her skin. His hands slid down to lift her thighs, spreading her open for him. She gasped softly as she felt his warm breath against her most sensitive spot, her fingers tightening in his hair.

“I think I can help with that,” he drawled, his grin turning devilish before he lowered his head and pressed a kiss where she needed him most.

Kate’s body tensed at the first touch of his tongue, her head falling back as a moan escaped her lips, unrestrained and raw. That sound, coupled with the sensations Arthur was drawing from her, made her chest tighten with something beyond pleasure. The rhythm from her dream returned, steady and certain, like a heartbeat resonating deep within her soul. It wasn’t just her body responding to him; it was her heart, her entire being. Arthur’s mouth moved with a precision that wasn’t hurried but deliberate, as though he had all the time in the world to explore her, to love her in a way that felt eternal. 

Every touch was a silent vow. A tangible expression of holy devotion, a sacred need that left her trembling beneath him, utterly lost yet feeling more whole than ever.

As the pleasure surged and overwhelmed her, Kate swore she could feel that heartbeat echo in her chest, pulsing with a meaning she didn’t fully understand but instinctively trusted. This moment wasn’t just an escape from the dangers of tomorrow; it was an anchor, a reminder of what truly mattered. What they were fighting for; their future.  Kate cried out his name, the sound trembling with passion and something deeper. Hope. In Arthur’s touch, in his unspoken promises, she knew that whatever lay ahead, there was hope for a future beyond this. For now, she let herself fall into his love, into the steady rhythm that promised her not just comfort but a forever she hadn’t dared to dream of.

AN: I know this chapter and the last one probably feel a little repetitive in the way they're structured; Arthur goes out, Kate is left at camp, and then they come together at night. But I promise the next chapter will include them together. I think you all know what mission is coming up....

Suffice to say, I think I've got the rest of this fic laid out. Well at least I have the bones, I've just been adding the meat as I go along. But it will be 35 chapters, with 2 epilogue chapters (37 total). It feels so far away, yet close at the same time. I wonder if I'll finish this before it hits the one year anniversary in March! ♥️

[eriksmaiden]

Doll - Chapter I (Clay Puppington x Reader)

Moralton. A stupid, dead-end town. It’s worthless, just like its Mayor— at least that’s what he thought.

Clay Puppington’s every day life was nothing short of a maddening nightmare. A loveless marriage, a disappointment of a son, and a job he absolutely detested. The only mere fraction of solace he had was at the bottom of his third bottle of whiskey, its stinging warmth was his only comfort, and even now it felt like far too little in the face of his son’s ungodly antics.

He often questioned how worthless of a father, of a man, he had to be for his son to turn out the way he had so far. He would look down upon his innocent face after every routine visit to his study, and he could only see himself, staring back up at him. A young Clay who seemed so similar to Orel. Maybe Clay hadn’t been worth it to Arthur, but Orel would be to Clay now— in his own twisted way. He wanted to give Orel everything he thought he’d wanted when he was in much smaller shoes, and he supposed that included a strong female presence, because clearly Bloberta wasn’t cutting it to help keep his son in check.

‘What to do? What to do?’ Clay paced around his room, haphazardly stitching trains of thought together through his nightly drunken stupor, until his eyes fell upon the town’s phone book. ‘Perfect! I’ll just make my idiot trouble child some other woman’s problem, it’s foolproof!’ Clay’s shrill inner voice chimed, celebrating a half baked victory as he dialed some randomly selected babysitter’s phone number, who for all he knew, could be insane. Not that he cared, he was sure he’d been stricken with a new vein of genius that he had to seize immediately. The phone rang as he waited impatiently, he hardly realized the time at which he’d been calling this strange woman.

“Hello? Who is this?” A soft voice came out from the receiving end of the call, somehow still sweet despite clearly being groggy, and at least mildly upset over being woken up in the late hours of the night. The uncharacteristic warmth of the woman’s tone shocked Clay, who hadn’t heard a single woman direct herself even slightly positively towards him in years.

“Clay— Clay Puppington,” he hesitated, suddenly his drunkenness was nowhere near enough to help him brave through this conversation. “I was interested in your babysitting services for… for my son, Orel,” Clay rambled on about his son’s situation, as if the whole town wasn’t aware of Orel’s escapades already, and yet this strange babysitter still listened to him drone on and on about it. When he was finally done with his useless rambling, her soft voice chided in again, an unfamiliar feeling of respite surging through him.

“I understand, Mr Puppington— When would you like me to start?” Her ever patient tone put him at a distrusting ease, and he immediately barked that he wanted her there as soon as possible, to pick up Orel after school, and make sure he didn’t get in any trouble. She hardly seemed fazed by his harsh voice, and simply obliged, agreeing to start work the very next day. As soon as she hung up, he realized he didn’t even know her name, hastily he flipped through the phone book until he finally found it— Y/N Cross. ‘What a good, Christian name,’ he thought humorously to himself before downing his fourth, no… fifth, bottle of whiskey. That tawny colored bottle bottom really was this pathetic man’s only solace.

Morning came and went, Clay could hardly remember if he’d even told his wife about the babysitter that would soon invade their family home, or if he’d even told Orel she’d be picking him up. ‘No matter,’ he thought, ‘they’ll figure it out themselves.’ Moralton’s mayor was far too preoccupied with hating his job while he was in his office, to even think of doing anything else, much less go out of his way even further than he already had to help his family. Just the idea itself seemed ludicrous, they could fend for themselves while he did his job as man of the house, he thought bitterly.

Much later rather than sooner, Clay was able to clock out of the town hall, begrudgingly making his way home, all thoughts of the babysitter or his son’s misbehavior, were all left far behind him— only one thought remained in his head: booze. He wanted nothing more than to shut himself in his study, engulfed by all his trinkets, and taxidermy animals of his very own creation; fully delve into the pleasant buzz his favorite amber colored drink shot through his bloodstream. But as soon as he uttered the words “stupid dead end job” like he usually did when burst in through the front door, he was met with a face he didn’t expect.

She seemed like a simple girl, soft features, kind eyes— those certainly got him, her bright eyes, full of life that he’d never seen anywhere in Moralton before. Suddenly he wasn’t thinking about booze, or how he’d have to discipline his son over some other idiotic misdemeanor, or even about his precious taxidermy, he could only think about what this innocent lamb was doing in the wolf’s den.

“Mr Puppington, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, I’m Y/N Cross.”

[mint-8]

Moral Orel AU - Everyone’s happy and good (ish)

Trigger/Content warning: Mentions of guns and death, plus implications of child abuse. Also there Christianity is used a lot.

Clay Puppington

- Moralton’s respectful mayor, Orel and Shapey’s proud father, Bloberta’s loving husband, Danielle’s loyal best friend and the prime example of a good Christian man, dad, and spouse to his family and everyone in town.

- Clay has a loving and healthy relationship with his nuclear family. He deeply respects Bloberta for being so capable at managing things around the house, and pretty much lets her be the one to call the shots in their home. He is deeply in love with her and will always find any opportunity to compliment her or showing his affection (helping with chores, buying her gifts, hugs, kisses). He also encourages her to go out and have fun if she is ever too stressed, as in his own words: “You already work so hard for our family! Is only fair you take a break every once in a while”

- Alongside Bloberta, they tend to monitor Shapey more than Orel, mostly due to his behavioral issues, although Shapey is going to a therapist and actively taking psychological treatment, so his reactions are more toned down. He still loves him though, and buys him plenty of toys and enjoy some son-father bonding activities, usually playing board games, doing art or just talking.

- Orel is his pride and joy, his little son and big champ. Yes, Orel tends to get himself into trouble, a lot. And yes, he also tends to get into random shenanigans like, every other day, but he firmly believes that nothing can’t be solved without proper apologies, attaining for your actions and talking about it. He absolutely will not harm Orel even if he was threatened, but does have multiple talking sessions in his study, usually with some apple cider. He also spends quality time with Orel, and just like Shapey, they partake in bonding activities, with the added bonus of Clay being the town’s scout leader and taking him and his friends to camp every other weekend.

- Clay’s relationship with his father, Arthur, is a bit awkward. He still caused his mother to die due to his stupid prank, but Arthur still did his best to raise him properly, however he never really forgave him for killing his lovely bride. Clay still feels extremely guilty and made a promise to himself, his dad and his mom at her funeral, that he will definitely live his life as a proper Christian, to atone for the sin that he committed and which he will never forgive himself for. He still sends letters to his father regularly, usually giving him updates about his family, the town and sometimes sending money through post if he ever needs it but, more often than not, he sends him gifts and letters from the other family members.

- Danielle’s best friend and drinking buddy. They’ve known each other since high school and have stuck together through thick and thin over the years. While they usually talk about Orel and Shapey’s school performance, they tend to reminisce about the old times and set up drinking parties or simple hang outs. He doesn’t really care that Danielle is gay, after all “God loves all his children equally”.

Extra facts:

- Clay doesn’t like guns, and only has 1 fire arm for emergencies. He will teach Orel how to use it one day.

- Not super fond of alcohol, he is more of a social drinker. Instead he has an apple cider collection in his study.

[mariacallous]

Mayor Eric Adams took office pledging to cut red tape and speed up construction and development.

After three years in office, prosecutors overseeing three separate indictments say his administration has been doing just that — for a price.

Adams’ longtime top aide Ingrid Lewis-Martin is the latest member of the administration to face accusations of greasing the wheels of city government in exchange for cash or gifts. Adams faces similar allegations involving bribes from the Turkish government. The mayor’s first buildings commissioner is also accused of accepting bribes in exchange for expediting inspections. Taken together, the indictments allege that corruption is alive and well in New York City real estate – and touching the highest levels of local government.

On Thursday, Manhattan District Attorney Alvin Bragg alleged Lewis-Martin urged then-acting Buildings Commissioner Kazimir Vilenchik to approve plans for a rooftop bar near Herald Square on Dec. 8, 2022. Two days later, prosecutors say, she told Vilenchik to “assist” with a separate construction project, this time at a hotel on Rivington Street, that had been halted by the buildings department.

Lewis-Martin and her son received more than $100,000 for the assistance from real estate investors involved in both projects, prosecutors said. Lewis-Martin, her son and the investors all pleaded not guilty.

“I’ve worked in government for over 35 years,” Lewis-Martin said. “I have never taken any gifts, money, anything.”

Outside the courthouse on Thursday, her attorney Arthur Aidala said she was merely following through on Adams’ campaign pledge to be a friend to the business community.

“She helped a constituent. She helped a citizen navigate the thick red tape of city government,” Aidala said. “What she was doing here was just moving things along.”

But John Kaehny, executive director of the good government group Reinvent Albany, called the allegations “stunning” and part of a pattern.

“That fact that she was allegedly not afraid to order the DOB commissioner to do things on multiple occasions is not a good sign because it speaks to a culture of corruption,” Kaehny said.

The charges come two years after a task force convened by Adams issued 111 recommendations to “cut red tape, streamline processes, and remove administrative burdens.” Bribing city officials was not among them.

“The more difficult and time-consuming it is to get permits to do lawful things — such as constructing a building — the more likely it is that someone will be eager to break the rules to find a shortcut,” said Citizens Housing and Planning Council Executive Director Howard Slatkin, a former city planning administrator.

Adams himself is accused of pressuring the former fire commissioner, Daniel Nigro, to get inspectors to approve the fire safety system at a Turkish consulate building despite their concerns so it could open in time for a visit from that country’s president, Recep Erdogan. Federal prosecutors say Adams made the move after receiving luxury travel perks from Turkish officials and businesspeople tied to the Turkish government.

In the same indictment, prosecutors said the buildings department lifted a partial stop-work order at a stalled condo complex in Brooklyn days after the project developer reached out to Adams and asked for help. Prosecutors say the developer funneled $10,000 in illegal contributions to Adams’ mayoral campaign.

Adams has pleaded not guilty and accused the Department of Justice of political retribution for his criticism of President Joe Biden.

But evidence has emerged that the Adams administration codified a policy of streamlining inspections and approvals for favored donors and megadevelopers. Emails obtained by Gothamist last year reveal how City Hall instructed inspectors to usher select projects to the front of the months-long line for fire safety inspections — at times cancelling scheduled inspections of schools and small apartment buildings.

Prosecutors say two fire chiefs then used that list to mask their own illegal side hustle. One pleaded guilty to slipping projects onto the list after receiving bribes from expeditors hired by the building owners.

The buildings commissioner also allegedly got his cut.

In 2023, Bragg charged former Buildings Commissioner Eric Ulrich with receiving $150,000 in gifts from business people and associates in exchange for favors, like expediting inspections, helping lift a vacate order and attempting to clear a homeless shelter.

Ulrich has denied the allegations, which are unrelated to the Lewis-Martin indictment. He declined to comment. City Hall did not respond to an inquiry.

Lewis-Martin stepped down from city government this past weekend. Prosecutors say she hinted at the decision in a June phone call with a real estate agent working with her son and one of the investors charged with giving her bribes.

“I’m not playing. Your sister has to be rich! I’m gonna retire,” Lewis-Martin said, according to court papers.

[beardedmrbean]

New York City Mayor Eric Adams’ top aide Ingrid Lewis-Martin surrendered to authorities to face expected bribery charges early Thursday — which will make her the highest-profile city official to face charges since Adams was indicted on federal corruption charges in late September.

Lewis-Martin — who arrived at Manhattan Criminal Court dressed in a leopard-print top and wearing bold red lipstick — is accused of helping two businessmen who gave her DJ son a $100,000 loan to buy a Porsche, The Post has learned.

Her son Glenn Martin II — who goes by DJ Suave Luciano and is also expected to be hit with charges — entered the courthouse with his mother.

Manhattan prosecutors believe Lewis-Martin, in her City Hall role, eased a hold-up with a construction project run by the two businessmen.

In return for the favor, the businessmen allegedly gave her son the massive loan to buy the luxury vehicle, sources told The Post.

Lewis-Martin, her son and at least one of the businessmen, hotelier Mayank Dwivedi, are expected to be charged. Lewis-Martin abruptly resigned over the weekend as Adams’ senior adviser after learning an indictment was imminent.

In a theatrical press conference outside her defense attorney Arthur Aidala’s Midtown office Monday, Lewis-Martin vehemently denied wrongdoing and bashed the DA’s office.

“I’m here falsely accused of something,” said Lewis-Martin, 63. “I don’t know exactly what it is, but I know that I was told that it’s something that’s illegal, and I have never done anything illegal in my capacity in government.”

Dwivedi is the owner of the Maidstone hotel, an East Hamptons landmark that caters to the likes of Jon Bon Jovi and Kylie Minogue. 

He also manages the Capri Southampton, another luxurious Hamptons hotel, on behalf of celebrity attorney Mark Geragos.

Dwivedi’s lawyer Teny Geragos told The Post Wednesday night that the district attorney’s office “has an incomplete and inaccurate view of the facts.

“We look forward to setting the record straight and proving Mr. Dwivedi’s complete innocence.” DJ Suave Luciano has performed at the city’s Rise Up NYC concerts, in addition to brunch gigs and releasing rump-shaking music videos to his 79 YouTube subscribers.

[exitoath]

IF Fred Jones was real he'd be a country boy in my opinion.

It mainly comes down to how a character would be if you swapped their gender and how well that can translate depending on qualities about that character and how much would change.

IE someone like Daphne needs to be a female character because of her connection to femininity or at the very very least would be a queer man. While someone like Shaggy or Velma could much easier be translated into the other gender as their archetypes are more defined by things like stoner, hippie, or nerd.

If you want other media, like Arthur Morgan could be a female but he wouldn't be the same character, because of how women and men were socialized especially in the time and setting Arthur would've been in.

Idgie Threadgoode from Fried Green Tomatoes is basically a masc lesbian and to make her a man kinda misses the point of who her character is and what she represents.

That outside of the way let me yap more about Fred's character and what I'd personally think he'd be like if his home life was thought through a lot more.

Fred doesn't fit the Jock archetype. It's kinda like how Michael Scott is a bigot, (which I'm not claiming he is) it's not because he's genuinely hateful he's just kind of stupid.

I imagine Fred having been a very big Mama's boy, and that some way or another lost his mother, and this caused him to be fairly disconnected with his father, something he tries to rekindle time and time again.

It's why he does seem to show a big interest in sports and other dude-bro but he's clearly not someone who's very well known for it and hangs out with a socialite, nerd, stoner, and talking dog, instead of one of the bros. (to simplify their characters)

In Mystery Incorporated, it is also established that Fred's father is the mayor and also is deeply disconnected from his son like all the parents are with the main cast. Though I personally headcanon that Fred would be raised by a much less powerful figure in the town. More that Fred's father is a lot more conservative politically and though religious is not someone who follows the teachings of the Bible strictly. A working class father.

Anyway, Fred's issue would be focusing on trying to be manly enough even though none of his legitimate interests match closely up to what the men in his community enjoy or are interested in.

I imagine Fred would join the Football team to make his Dad proud, but dislikes the behavior of the fellow Jocks and fakes an injury or worse purposefully gets an injury or breaks some sort of major rule to get off the team.

Anyway it's too late to write down everything and so I'll make another post maybe to talk some more.

[slashingdisneypasta]

So I clearly missed some things due to my severe lack of activeness on this hellsite (derogatory) but I'd very much like to know more about Then He Got Rough if you feel comfortable sharing.

If not though, that's totally okay!! Either way, hope you're doing well, my friend 💜🙏🏻

!!!! Thats my Original Work!! I occasionally mention it on here, but I do need to be quite careful about what I say cuz theirs a lotta stuff in it that is meant to be a surprise XD But goddddddddddddddd I love talking about it, so thank you for asking!! ^^

Basically it is a small town murder mystery, but using Slasher Movie Tropes. Its also got a lotta platonic love and other more complicated kinds of relationships because I'm, of course, aro and I need that shit XD Here's a basic blurb I made up for someone else who asked one time ^^

Hallie (the virgin) meets Edward Brown (the killer) and they hit it off- she's exactly the kinda girl he likes; friendly, kinda reserved, and they have... err- certain things from their pasts... in common, it turns out. And to her, Edward's the perfect guy, too! He's a young English teacher at the high school and he's got this skinny Clark Kent thing about him?? Awkward, and funny. She doesn't realise he's a part of the little town's most powerful (and tight-lipped) family, the Bamford's (He was adopted into it- Edward Bamford-Brown), until she tells her best friend and roommate Maggie (the whore) about him. Maggie immediately develops a bad taste in her mouth when it comes to Edward. She goes rogue and decides to investigate, employing Hallie's family doctor, Arthur (the scholar), and his old friend/new roommate combo; anxious ex-con Rodney (the fool), who just so happens to be Edwards adoptive aunt Carla Bamford's ex husband. Doors are opened for Maggie into the world of the Bamford's through Arthur and Rodney, and Winnie Bamford (the athlete) later on, and she uncovers some bone chilling secrets about everyone in this family, and everyone a r o u n d them, too, that make her determined to save her friend before its too late.

**You might also be interested to know that, in my head, Rodney (Who is a very charismatic, but very anxious man who used to do some pretty bad things but feels terrible (he knows his behaviour had everything to do with self-loathing) is really truly trying to clean up his act these days post-divorce; rooming with his old friend Arthur and working at the grocery store as its the only job he could get) is played by a more middle-aged Robert Englund XDD (Closer to Professor Wexler in Urban Legend then Inkubus) . Arthur is played by Brad Dourif XDD (so yes- freddy kruger and chucky XD Of course.)

Some little tid-bits I can/want to share also:

The Bamford Family Line-Up:

Mrs Emily Bamford: The matriarch. A cold-hearted snake woman. She pretty much only loves Edward.

Mayor Richard Bamford: He and Em were highschool sweethearts back in the day but broke up when he left to pursue politics in a big city-- but mysteriously came back and married Emily a few months later despite everyone knowing he was doing so well in the city?? Took the Bamford name and everything. Its rumoured that Emily's parents blackmailed him *cough*. Everyone knows Emily is in charge. Richard always looks kind of like a show pony next to her, despite being actual Mayor.

Carla Bamford: Emily's adopted sister and town journalist. She's kinda lily-livered. The only thing she really stood against the family about was her marriage to Rodney (They didn't approve. He was a damn con), but even that fell apart eventually.

Rodney Hawk (Formally Bamford. They made him take their name but he's got his back, now): I already talked about him XD

Edward Bamford-Brown: THE MAIN VILLAIN. Edward is Emily and Richard's adopted son, the same age as their biological daughter (Winnie. up next) who... well, its no secret- is the favourite. Emily would let him get away with anything. She would help him get away with anything. He can do no wrong, in her eyes.

Winnie Bamford: Emily and Richard's biological daughter. She's an insane freak- they sent her away to boarding school in Georgia but she came back worse, and there are s o many rumours about her in town; Orgies and deviant sexual activity, mostly (most of it is true, too). She has a major thing for 'Uncle Rodney' and makes him very very uncomfortable. On the bright side though?? She's more then happy to fuck things up for her spiteful mother by assisting Maggie to uncover some dark secrets (: She wont make it easy, though 😅 That would be no fun.

Unnamed Bamford Family Member: I cant tell you anything about them, whoops.

And Tom Manning: Richard's best friend, and the town lawyer (Edwards lawyer). So close with Rich and Em (And Winnie and Edward) that he's practically part of the family. I have described him as 'a hot dill pickle in a sharp suit if he was a harvard law graduate'. He's slimy, charismatic and seemingly perfect.

Here are the main characters Looks, if you're interested 😅

(Also another little thing that is really just a convoluted blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of inside joke- Maggie, who has a huge thing for Arthur and constantly describes his eyes as 'brad dourif-blue', is a major Childs Play fan.

... and hallie loves a nightmare on elm street *cough*. she doesnt really interact with rodney, but during the few times they do, they totally have Something. and when she describes her perfect guy?? its the opposite to edward. its rodney. anyway- )

Anyway, thank you for asking! And reading, if you made it this far XDD Sorry for the word-vomit!! I just really really love this story and I really hope one day I can finish it ^^ <3<3<3<3<3<3

I hope you are doing well too- better then before at least ^^ I hope the time away from Tumblr is doing you well! You're right, it can be a very harmful atmosphere and I'm so proud of you for knowing when you need to take a step back!! 💛💛💛💛💛

[nightingaelic]

YOOO I didn’t know you had fallout ocs tell me abt them. Who are their companions what’re their roles etc

Ah, what the hell.

My Lone Wanderer is Paladin Elizabeth Titus, who spent her early 20s trying to help the Capital Wasteland by completing her father's dream of Project Purity and bringing the might of the Brotherhood of Steel to those who most need it. She's been romantically connected to Amata Almodovar, Sarah Lyons, and Point Lookout's Nadine, and she's on good terms with Butch DeLoria, Star Paladin Cross, Fawkes, and a liberated Clover. Post-game, she has become estranged from the Brotherhood of Steel, and she's now doing work with the Abolitionists and Reilly's Rangers despite her activities being a topic of much speculation throughout the Capital Wasteland. She is a field medic and a pilot, she wields heavy weaponry with finesse, and she tends to keep everyone at arm's length in the belief that her own reputation will eventually harm them.

My Sole Survivor is Murphy Olson Kelly, thawed pre-war lawyer who made her way through the Railroad and the Brotherhood before finally settling with the Minutemen to find her son, then bring down the Institute. She's been romantically connected to Mayor John Hancock, Elder Arthur Maxson, and Robert Joseph MacCready, and she considers the rest of the companions close friends. She is a darling of the Commonwealth and is on good terms with nearly everyone besides the Institute, fundamentalist Brotherhood members, and skeptical Railroad agents. She relies on her charisma, persuasiveness, and twin plasma pistols to get by, and she is chock-full of survivor's guilt that sometimes manifests as psyker abilities, but more often results in her getting involved in every problem she finds.

My Courier Six is Fox, a desert enigma who seized New Vegas and the Hoover Dam as her own in an attempt to crush the Legion and fend off the New California Republic. She's been romantically connected to Benny Gecko, Rose of Sharon Cassidy, Red Lucy, The King, Ulysses, Beatrix Russell, and Craig Boone, and she is on good-to-mixed terms with the companions not because of her perceived reputation as a heartbreaker, but because of her inability to stand still and commit. She is generally liked, if a little feared, by the Mojave Wasteland, and she is considered a threat by Caesar's Legion and the NCR, albeit one that will eventually move on in the pursuit of something new. Fox follows whatever trail she is inclined to at the moment, and she wards off most dangers with shotgun blasts. It's unknown whether she still has her memories from before Goodsprings.

My Vault 76 Dweller is Dolores, the daughter of a wartime photographer and a veterinarian who took up residence in the Savage Divide in an abandoned train station that she turned into a home and renowned moonshine distillery. She's connected primarily to Foundation, but she's on good terms with the Crater, the Blue Ridge Caravan Company, and the Responders because everyone in Appalachia loves liquor. Her weapon of choice is a railway rifle.

My other Vault 76 Dweller is Rosalyn, whose last act before the bombs fell was making sure her mob-connected husband didn't make it to the vault in time. She spent some time with Rose and the raiders of the Crater, but recently became fascinated with the ill-fated Order of Mysteries and has been trying to restart the group. She primarily uses the Voice of Set and the Blade of Bastet in combat, but she does occasionally bust out the silver submachine gun of the Mistress's paramour.

With the exception of Rosalyn, my OCs have all made it onto my Archive of Our Own account in some form. Murphy and Elizabeth cross paths in my long-running post-game Fallout 4 series; Fox appeared in a one-off prompt fic that explores her relationship with Boone; and Dolores underwent a name change for some explicit encounters in Appalachia.

[the-delta-42]

Hindsight - Chapter 1

[First] [Previous] [Next]

Hindsight

Chapter 1

Hector Damocles prided himself in his work. College Francis Dupont housed the children of the elite and influential, from the daughter of the mayor to the son of a famous Fashion Mogul. He also prided himself in his skills when handling a delicate situation. One such situation was when a pupil not only cheated on a test but stole from and attacked another student. To Hector, there was only one course of action. Expulsion in front of all her peers.

He didn’t back down from his position, not when the girl’s parents protested it, not when a member of his staff approached him and told him there was no way the student could’ve cheated on a test, not when her score matched up with her previous scores and that the student, she attack was acting perfectly fine. Hector didn’t hesitate when telling Caline to hand in her notice. He had made it clear on everyone’s contracts that they were not to question him on such matters.

To Hector, everything was perfect.

Across the city, at Jeanne D’Arc Creative Arts College, Caline Bustier was openly gaping at her contract.

“There’s no exceptions list.” Said Caline, getting a frown from Arthur Coleman.

“What do you mean ‘exceptions list’?” Asked Arthur, leaning forwards.

“At my previous workplace, there was a list of students that we weren’t allowed to punish.” Said Caline, “The Mayor’s daughter for one.”

“And that was written into your contract?” Asked Arthur, putting his fingertips together, “Well, Ms. Bustier, here at Jeanne D’Arc we have no such stipulations, if a student is misbehaving or bullying another student they are to be treated like any other student and punished.”

Caline was quiet, soaking in the new information.

“Now, if that is everything, I believe we have work to do.” Said Arthur going to stand up.

“Wait!” Gasped Caline, “At my previous workplace we had a student that was expelled based on accusations that didn’t make sense, the principle didn’t investigate the claims and refused to after he expelled her.”

Arthur mulled over the information, before asking the student’s name.

A few hours later, Tom Dupain and Sabine Cheng were at the school doors with their daughter in tow. Arthur looked Marinette over, noting that amount of makeup under her eyes, as well as the slight limp in her left leg.

“Fallen down the stairs recently, Ms. Dupain-Cheng?” Asked Arthur, getting shocked looks from the girl’s parents.

“No, I jumped down a trap door and landed awkwardly.” Said Marinette, making Arthur frown.

“A new member of staff made us aware of your expulsion from your previous school, as well as your creativity.” Said Arthur, as he led the group to his office, “Caline told us about the lack of a proper investigation and how the evidence was circumstantial at best. As well as the schools ‘course of action’ when it came to the bullying of students.”

Tom and Sabine exchanged a worried look at his statement.

“Rest assured, this school has a zero-tolerance policy on bullying and will punish the aggressor as we see fit.” Said Arthur, “As well as a full and proper investigation into the matter. Now, shall we begin with the tour?”

H

Marinette nervously shifted as she waited outside her form room. The receptionist reassuringly squeezed her shoulder, before knocking on the door to the class.

“Alright, everyone, we have a new student today,” Said the teacher, Mr. Stolberg, “She’s a new transfer and I expect everyone, Allan, Claude, to be kind and welcoming.”

There was a half-hearted muttering, before Mr. Stolberg called them in, “Everyone, this is Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Ms. Dupain-Cheng, meet your classmates.”

There was the sound of someone choking, making everyone look at them, a dark-skinned boy was thumping his desk mate on the back.

“I thought I said everyone was to be kind and welcoming, Allan.” Sighed Mr. Stolberg, making the dark-skinned boy sit up straight.

“Hey, this was all Claude!” Protested the boy, as Claude, a light skinned boy with brown hair and eyes coughed up a ball of paper.

“Dude, again with the spitballs?” asked a blonde-haired girl with tanned skin.

“That’s enough, Allegra.” Said Mr. Stolberg, “Now, I’m going to need a volunteer to show Marinette around.”

Allegra’s hand shot up as she practically launched herself from her seat, “I’ll do it!”

Mr. Stolberg looked around, seeing a few hands up, before he turned back to Allegra, “All right, Allegra, since you don’t have a desk mate, you can show Marinette around.”

There was collective groan, as Marinette made her way over to the blonde girl.

“Hi, I’m Allegra Musique, but everyone calls me Allegra, well, since it’s my name and- I’m babbling aren’t I, hehe, Sorry, I don’t meet many celebrities.” Babbled Allegra, giggling nervously.

Marinette quirked an eyebrow, “Oo-kay,” Said Marinette, slowly, “I’m not a celebrity, but, sure.”

“W-what do you mean you’re ‘not a celebrity’?!” Exclaimed Allegra, “You are Marinette Dupain-Cheng, right?”

“Yeah, have been since I was born.” Said Marinette, taken aback by Allegra’s outburst.

“You did design Jagged Stone’s Sunglasses and CD cover?” Asked Allegra, getting a nod from Marinette, “You did design the Messenger bowler hat that was modelled by Adrien Agreste?” Marinette nodded again, “Aren’t also working on a multi-coloured sequin jacket that was commissioned last week?!”

“How’d you know about that last one?” Asked Marinette, as Allegra went red with embarrassment.

“She’s a fan of your work.” Said Claude, leaning forwards, “Personally, I prefer magic tricks to clothes.”

Marinette glanced him over, before her mouth said, “I can tell.” Before Marinette clapped a hand over her mouth.

Allan laughed, “Oh, she’s gonna fit right in.” As he thumped Claude on the back, who cracked a smile.

H

Alya internally groaned as the new teacher went through the lesson, Ms. Bustier never made the class so boring. Alya saw Adrien rub his wrist, before remembering that the Teacher had ordered him to write Lila’s notes for her.

Strangely enough, Lila had walked into the school with a spring in her step, a far cry from how Marinette had supposedly injured her. Alya had made a group chat with all of her classmates, excluding Lila and Chloe. After Marinette was gone, everyone had started to notice how some of Lila’s stories did not add up. They all agreed that they owed Marinette a very big apology.

H

Three months later, Marinette had a new friend group in her new school, she had introduced the trio to her old Classmates, Allan and Claude nearly fainting when they met Nino and Mylene, respectively.

“We’ve managed to convince Marinette to audition for a role in an upcoming production,” Said Claude, leaning back in a chair in Marinette’s living room, “it became a group effort after everyone heard her singing voice.”

“Wait, Marinette can sing?” Gasped Rose, looking at the dark-haired girl.

“It’s not as good as Allegra’s.” Mumbled Marinette, her face going red.

“Bullshit.” Said Allegra, flipping her braid over her shoulder, “You build everyone up and try to make everyone forget about you, if anyone of us is going to be famous, we’re going to drag you to the top with us.”

“What did she sing?” Asked Alya, resting against her arms.

“History has its eyes on you.” Said Allan, through a mouthful of croissant.

“Yeah, we tried to get her to rap once,” Shuddered Allegra, getting a pillow thrown at her, “She bit her tongue while doing it though.”

Everyone stared at Marinette, “I panicked, and my jaw seized up.” Defended Marinette.

“We’re going to try to train her in the art of rap.” Said Allan, throwing his arm around Marinette’s shoulders.

The ground suddenly shook.

“ADRIKINS!” Screamed a high, shrill voice, “WHERE ARE YOU?!”

The sound of a pot breaking, swiftly followed by a thud, made everyone look up, just as Adrien slid into the room.

“Adrien…” Said Nino, as the ground shook again, “What did you do?”

No one noticed Marinette slip out of the room.

A few moments later, Ladybug swung past and landed on the roof.

The giant form of Chloe Bourgeois stomped around the city. Chat Noir landed next to Ladybug and winced.

“Okay, I’ve got to admit,” Said Chat, rubbing his arm, “I did not expect this to happen when I woke up today.”

Ladybug glanced over at Chat, before doing a double take.

“Chat, what happened to your arm?” Asked Ladybug, turning towards her partner.

“A, uh, ‘friend’ gripped it too tightly.” Said Chat, rubbing his hand over the cast.

“That ‘friend’ better not still be a friend.” Muttered Ladybug, readying her yoyo, “Any idea where the Akuma could be?”

“Picture in her hand.” Said Chat, pointing to an over-large piece of paper in Chloe’s hand.

“Okay, I’ll trip her, you get ready to destroy the picture.” Said Ladybug, before throwing her yoyo into the air, “Lucky Charm!”

A second yoyo fell into Ladybug’s hand, who grinned and spotted two Lamp posts standing opposite each other. Ladybug quickly hooked one yoyo around the two lamp posts and then looped the second around Chloe’s legs. Chloe face planted the floor, dropping the picture in her hand.

Char quickly Cataclysmed it, releasing the Akuma within it. Ladybug caught the Akuma, purified it and then cast the cure, restoring everything to normal. Unbeknownst to Ladybug and Chat Noir, a woman glared at Ladybug, before rushing forwards.

Ladybug froze the second she felt someone’s hands on her ears, before the earrings were ripped from her earlobes. In a flash, Chat had the woman pressed against the ground, with the earrings in hand. Chat almost reared back when he recognised Nathalie, before he looked up at Ladybug and his stomach dropped the moment, we saw her. Marinette knelt on the floor, blood coursing from her ears, her hands to occupied to cover her face. The sight of the camera was the cherry on top, letting Chat know Ladybug’s, Marinette’s, identity had just been thrown to the wind. Looking down, Chat spotted something on Nathalie’s chest, a small peacock fan shaped broach. Gently removing it, Chat watched as it changed its shape into the same style of broach, but vastly different from what it had been.

[cannotflyarc]

@soldwrecked's arthur d.onaldson sent: ‘ i’ll make you some soup. ’

it feels silly how she's a victor, yet hides away in someone else's house for no reason other than simple paranoia. johanna survived a brutal event that most children don't, but she can barely confront the judge still. it's only made worse by the fact that she didn't feel very much like herself upon waking this morning. she shouldn't have come over, in case this is a life-threatening flu ( which it does feel like ). if she is to die, then selfishly, she doesn't want to die alone. the judge always told her that she would, but this isn't entirely out of spite. if she were to die with anyone, she would want it to be by art.

the offer of soup after the long, grueling process of getting her to admit she didn't feel well shocks her to her core. johanna sits at the table, blinking. it isn't the sickness rendering her dumb ( not completely, anyway ), simply the shock that someone would do something so gentle for her.

❝ you don't have to. i really don't feel that bad, art. i'm alright. ❞ she says it as if she wasn't just panicking about her own death moments prior. ❝ do you . . . do you even know how to make soup? i'm sorry if you do and i'm just underestimating you! i don't mean to! i just . . . you're the mayor's son. if you grew up anything like me, you didn't exactly learn . . . life skills. ❞

[ghost-qwq]

okay I don't feel like posting these two separately so um,, my Lone Wanderer and Sole Survivor

info about both of them under the cut hehe

Cyrus:

Brotherhood of Steel fan... clearly

#1 fan of Sarah Lyons!!!!

He has a brotherly relationship with both Arthur Maxson AND little Mayor MacCready

Moira is like an older sister to him--

Besties with Amata like he should be

technically part of the Railroad??

His bandana was a gift from Butch after almost dying starting the purifier

he's autistic and his special interest is US history

so obviously he lost his damn mind when he had to walk through museums

oh and the Capitol Preservation Society, he loves that place

bro falls in love with Butch,, he told Charon about it once and almost cried because he was so ashamed--

"I fell in love with him." "...why?" "I DON'T KNOW."

Sirius:

Minuteman general AND Railroad agent

convinced he can fix Gage somehow

He ADORES the Atom Cats

big teddy bear :)

He usually either looks tired or pissed off

When he first heard Gage's voice in the train he out loud said "maybe raiders aren't so bad"

He gets flustered easily

His wife was named Adhara and he misses her so much

I hate fallout lore why did I make SIRIUS and ADHARA name their son Shaun that's so messed up

He's the #1 Nick Valentine fan

Nick and Old Longfellow are like grandparents to him

he hates the BoS

He thinks they're selfish assholes who pretend they're helping people when in reality they only care about themselves

[mermaidsirennikita]

Can you recommend any contemporary romances with cheating? Thank you!

I shall do my best, but give me some leeway lol--cheating is a romance "third rail" and it's hard to find books with like... legit infidelity (to me).

The Art of Scandal by Regina Black. Opens with the heroine, the mayor's wife, finding a dick pic from another woman on her husband's phone. The relationship is effectively over after that, but she agrees to stay married to him through the end of his campaign... Only to have an instant connection with a younger artist guy, who ends up being her frenemy's son. Very emotional and well-written, it gives a cheating vibe to me because, for all intents and purposes in the public eye, she is. Also, her husband DEF cheats lol, he just isn't the hero.

Possession by Adriana Anders. Again, "technical". The hero is an A-list actor and the heroine is a rising star/America's sweetheart type who agrees to a PR marriage to him. They're married, but they agree to zero sexual contact. He then gets caught on camera fucking a woman who looks a lot like her... in a kinky context. So good. The heroine follows him to this kink oasis he frequents, and she's like, determined to get at what he's ACTUALLY into.

Saint by Sierra Simone. M/M, heroes were together before one of them had a crisis and became a monk. The other one comes to the monastery five years later with his new fiancee and.... well, it ain't over. The cheating doesn't go TOO far and is handled quickly, but it does happen.

American Queen by Sierra Simone. First in an MMF trilogy about the president, first lady, and the VP--it's an Arthur/Guinevere/Lancelot situation in the modern day, but like... everyone wants each other. An all time forever favorite. Greer and Ash (President Sexy) begin dating after his wife died, rekindling a flame that never went anywhere before he was married. What Ash does NOT know is that in between Ash getting with his wife and the wife dying, Greer lost her virginity and had a "love at first sight" thing with Embry, his best friend and VP. So throughout this book, while Ash and Greer are together, she's tempted by Embry and they're basically having an emotional affair... with a twist. There is definitely cheating in this one, though it doesn't go too far physically.

Give Me More by Sara Cate. Another MMF contemporary that is so good and might scratch that itch. Hunter and Isabel have been married a while, and Drake is Hunter's best friend since childhood who became Isabel's close friend too. Hunter is a partial owner in a sex club, so the three of them are on a road trip touring the competition, as you do. Hunter catches Isabel and Drake in a compromising moment, and sees that they want each other... but instead of getting jealous, he asks to watch.

Jana Goes Wild by Farah Heron. A "fallout from cheating" book. Jana and Anil have an amazing two week fling wherein she falls head over heels, and thinks he feels the same way... Then she finds out he's married. THEN she finds out she's pregnant. Skip five years into the future where they're co-parents who barely talk, and suddenly find themselves at a destination wedding where she's a bridesmaid and he's a groomsman. WHOOPS.

[hannibalzero]

You got the money honey, I got the time!

Charthur omegaverse sugar baby wip.

Arthur after being replaced by Micha, is itching to leave the gang. But he won’t leave without Hosea. While in Saint Denis at the mayor’s party, Arthur meets Charles Smith a world renowned horse trainer and breeder. Charles offers Arthur a sugar relationship, Arthur is taken aback. Could he really do this? That stupid card is burning a hole in his satchel.

Anywayyyyy here’s the wip!

Things change, the sun sets, flowers wilt. This was the nature of life. Arthur Morgan knew this well, his life had changed so much since his Mother had gone to pick apples with his sisters and never came back. Arthur held his glass of champagne, feeling terribly alone in this grand party. He didn’t belong here, he wasn’t a man of standing in Saint Denis, He didn’t know the plan that Dutch was running. The man only wanted Micha Bell nowadays, Arthur wasn’t useful anymore.

Arthur took a nervous sip of the champagne enjoying the feeling of the bubbles at least. He had trusted Dutch, every time he asked about what needed to be done. He was waved off and told to run jobs. To not worry son, have a little goddammed faith. Arthur did nothing but worry anymore. Even the jobs seemed crazier and crazier as of late. More risks, more bullets, more law. So much so that John had r-u-n-n-o-f-t’ed with Abigail and Jack. John finally found his balls and went after what he truly wanted. What did Arthur have any more?

Mary? No doubt she had loved Arthur once but nowadays? She liked to use him to make her daddy mad and feel the rush of being wild. Hosea? Yeah, Arthur did have his Pa but he could tell that Hosea was having trouble with Dutch as late too. Horses? He had his girls and Silver Dollar. Lenny was gone, and Sean and Karen left to marry. Tilly and Mary-Beth too.

Shaking his head and sets down the empty glass. Arthur was to stupid to be thinking this hard about shit. Why was he here at this party? Just back up? Saint Denis’s elite was swishing around him having a good time at least. But a sound caught his attention, the sound of horses. Very expensive, prized horses that were just begging for treats. Looking around, no one would know Arthur was missing. Swiping a few apples from the Buffet table, Arthur went back to the lovely stables.

[thebaconsandwichofregret]

I always do such a hard double take when Evangelicals start talking about the evils of Gog and Magog because I'm a big fan of British mythology and in the medieval "origin" myth Gog and Magog are benevolent magical giants who are the sons of the daughters of Brutus (yeah the guy who killed Caesar) and also they're somehow related to the city of Troy??? And if anything ever threatens London Gog and Magog are supposed to rise up to defend the City kinda like a much more geographically specific King Arthur myth (honestly parts of the King Arthur tale probably come from the Gog and Magog stories).

To this day there are statues of them in the financial district and at the Lord Mayor's Show in November wicker effigies of them lead the parade through the City pulled by young men in scarlet cloaks.

I do often wonder if Evangelicals would consider this a type of devil worship. The difference fascinates me.

Pointing out that the Rapture as a concept is a little less than two hundred years old - it's originally from the 1833 - that really buries the lede on how recent it is. Bc the modern evangelical take on the Rapture is from a book published in 1970. That predicted the Rapture would happen no later than 1988.